Chapter 7
Aurora~
As Stefano opened the car door for me, I wasn’t as nervous as I probably should be.
Having been raised as a Catholic, I associated churches with peace, and they were the ultimate sanctuaries in our world.
While most of us were going to end up in Hell for how we’d chosen to live our lives, dishonoring God in His house was not going to be on that list of sins.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” my brother asked after helping me out of the car.
“I’m fine,” I told him. “For the millionth time, I am fine, Stefano.”
“Okay,” he said seriously. “However, if there is anyone other than the priest and the two Korolevs in there, then we are leaving immediately.”
I gave him a simple nod of understanding. “Of course.”
Now, even though the announcements had been made just this morning, security was still the priority, and so we were not entering the front doors of the church like normal.
The agreement was that we’d be allowed entrance through the back, and that only the clergy would be in attendance.
After Viktor and I had agreed to the marriage, arrangements had been made for the ceremony to take place at St. Donovan’s because it bordered both territories, though my father had insisted that our priest perform the sacrament.
Not only did my father trust him to uphold the laws of the church, but Father Joseph O’Toole had blessed all my sacraments to date.
Stefano rang the bell, and not two minutes later, Father O’Toole was opening the door, the sweetest look on his face, and it really was comforting to see him at this moment.
“Aurora, child,” he greeted kindly. “Stefano.”
“Father O’Toole,” I greeted back as he took me into his arms. “It’s so good to see you.”
After he hugged me, he shook Stefano’s hand, saying, “It’s wonderful to see you both. However, I suppose that we should get this moving along, as the Kovolevs have been here a while already.”
Since I wasn’t late, I could only guess that they’d been here for security reasons. “Of course, Father.”
Once he ushered us inside, he quickly locked the door behind him, then Stefano and I dutifully followed him past the church’s rectory and offices until we were emerging from behind the pulpit area, and just as sweet as you please, the Korolevs were standing near the altar, waiting patiently.
Now, because I’d made it my mission to know everything about my enemies, I didn’t have to guess which one was Viktor Korolev.
Plus, even if I’d never seen pictures of them, Kasimir Korolev was well-known for having one bright blue eye and one sinister-looking white one.
Viktor was also the taller of the two, though they both filled out nicely.
It was also clear that Viktor didn’t care about this union any more than I did.
While I’d made the effort to look presentable, dressed in a white blouse, black slacks, black heels, my hair pinned up professionally, and my makeup subtle, Viktor Korolev was dressed in a white t-shirt, black jeans, black boots, and the black leather jacket that he was wearing probably had years of his victims’ blood on it.
Granted, I could appreciate the what-you-see-is-what-you-get approach, but this was still a fucking wedding.
As for Kasimir, he was dressed pretty much the same, which was the exact opposite of Stefano’s tailormade suit. Of course, that was something that was common with our family, and you’d be hard-pressed to ever find a Marchetti not dressed for business.
When we reached the altar, Stefano immediately put his hand out, treating the church with the respect that it deserved. “Korolev,” he greeted as Viktor took his hand, and as soon as he was done, he repeated the action for Kasimir.
“Marchetti,” Kasimir greeted back, though Viktor remained silent.
As soon as they were done shaking hands, Father O’Toole said, “Well, shall we get things started?”
If he hadn’t sounded a bit nervous, I’d take exception to how I hadn’t been included in the introductions, but that was probably going to be the least of the offenses that I was going to have to deal with moving forward.
There was no way that the Korolevs were happy about this, and that included the entirety of their bratva members.
So, I could probably count on being insulted and disrespected on a regular basis if Viktor’s stoney silence was any indication.
Honestly, the best-case scenario would be to live separate lives and only have to deal with each other if the occasion called for it.
Which it never should.
“Of course, Father,” Stefano immediately replied, ready to usher me forward. However, my husband-to-be had other plans.
“I do believe that this is my privilege, Marchetti,” Viktor said, and along with him placing his hand on the small of my back, his voice also surprised me.
Now, while I’d never heard him speak before, I knew that Viktor and Kasimir were second-generation Americans, so the subtle lilt of an accent hadn’t been expected. Though not unpleasant, it told me that Russian was his first language, despite having been born in the US.
He was also as gorgeous as they came, and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
I did not need to be attracted to my husband, and though I’d seen plenty of pictures of him before, they’d been distant captures, and nothing like seeing him in the flesh.
Viktor was easily six-foot-three, and his blue eyes looked like a cerulean color against his dark brown hair and matching dark eyelashes.
In fact, he reminded me of Cutter Gauthier, only a bit more menacing.
Granted, I only knew who Cutter Gauthier was because I ran the gambling section of my father’s empire, and sports betting was huge in the world of betters.
So, I knew a lot about almost every sport under the sun, which was where my photographic memory became a godsend and not a curse.
At any rate, once we got situated at the altar, Kasimir went to stand on the other side of his brother, and Stefano remained by my side as Father O’Toole took his place between me and Viktor.
Yeah, the tension was noticeable, but this wasn’t exactly a festive occasion, and having known me since birth, Father O’Toole had to know that I wasn’t standing up here because of love.
Looking between me and Viktor, Father O’Toole said, “It is my understanding that traditional vows will be used for this union. So, if something has changed, then please speak now.”
When Viktor looked over at me, it was on the tip of my tongue to mention the lack of introductions earlier, but I decided to refrain from doing anything that would drag this thing out longer than necessary.
Besides, the vows-traditional or not-were irrelevant.
Neither one of us was here to honor or love one another until our dying breath.
Sure, this thing was until-death-to-us-part, but everything in between was just gibberish as far as I was concerned.
Ignoring Viktor, I looked over at Father O’Toole, saying, “Traditional vows are fine, Father.”
Gracing me with another kind smile, he said, “Very well, dear. However, before we start, I must ask if both parties are standing before me and God of their own volition? For once you’ve said your vows, your newfound journey as one will be for all time.”
Yeah, that didn’t sound ominous at all.
“I am here freely, Father,” I answered dutifully.
“Good, good...very well, child,” he replied, before looking over at Viktor. “And you, son?”
“I am also here freely, Father,” Viktor repeated, and it was a wonder that God wasn’t striking us both dead, though we really were here by choice...at least, to some degree.
“Wonderful,” Father O’Toole stated sincerely, and my next confession was going to be a bitch. “Then let us get started.”
Now, considering that there were only four people in attendance and that we’d gone with traditional vows, I would have expected the ceremony to last no longer than ten minutes, but because Father O’Toole was not a stupid man, he’d given a small speech about the sanctity of marriage before actually getting to the vows themselves.
It was quite clear that he didn’t care why we were getting married, so much as that he cared that we took our marriage seriously.
If he only knew.
However, what surprised me the most was when Father O’Toole had called for the rings.
While I had expected Viktor to have something to give me, it hadn’t occurred to me that he’d buy himself a matching ring to wear.
Considering that our marriage was a business arrangement more than anything else, I wasn’t expecting loyalty out of the man.
In all honesty, I was still kicking around that whole living separate lives thing.
The ring on my finger was also a bit much.
If I’d had to guess, I’d say that the value was that of a small country, and I had no idea why.
All three bands were rather heavy, which suggested something a little more expensive than just white gold.
As for the two surrounding bands, they were incrusted with blue and white diamonds that alternated all around the rings, and the center band came with a princess-cut diamond that could be seen from space and had no business on anyone’s finger.
Seriously, a tattoo of his name would have been less conspicuous, which wasn’t to say that he didn’t have that planned for later.