Chapter 8 - Mikhail
There’s no time to waste.
Not long after Lily agrees, I’m already on the phone making the necessary calls and lining everything up as it should be.
I inform Roman of what’s going on, well aware that I’m encroaching on his nesting time, but also aware that he’d have some choice words for me otherwise. He might’ve given me free rein, but that doesn’t mean he’ll tolerate being left in the dark.
After agreeing on a time, the call ends, leaving me with no congratulations or questions.
He doesn’t need to ask, not when Roman knows better than anyone what our lifestyle takes to maintain. What’s at stake and how letting a single thread go unchecked can unravel everything we’ve worked hard to maintain.
It’s not about romance, but containment and control.
Still, I won’t deny that there’s a flicker of something else beneath it all. The same urge in me pulsing since the moment I spotted Lily standing by the bar.
She was supposed to be a momentary indulgence and a chance for me to unwind.
Yet here I am, arranging my marriage like a business transaction. Because it is.
I can’t pretend like the thought of locking all of this down isn’t satisfying. Knowing I won’t need to pine helplessly over the woman I hooked up with.
Not when she’s mine in every way that counts.
Before long, Roman comes in like my place is an extension of his own, and the priest follows. He looks vaguely uncomfortable in his tight collar, but he’s used to situations like this by now. He keeps quiet, glancing between the small group of us.
It turns out, even a pious man can be bought out if the price is right.
Lily stands off to the side, still staring out the living room window with her arms crossed. She doesn’t move even at the sound of extra footsteps.
I offered her something white to wear just for the hell of it, but she refused. She’s still in her laidback jeans and university sweatshirt from last night, and her eyes are glassy from crying. Her fury is silent but ever-present.
She looks miserable, and while I knew to expect that, it still forces something in me to clench.
Roman stands off to the side with his arms folded, paying attention to every little thing like he’s at a meeting instead of witnessing a union. His eyes slide over to Lily as if seeing something familiar in her.
The ceremony is quick, fortunately. Of course, it’s impersonal, which seems like a double-edged sword.
Either way, the priest mutters through every line, hardly looking either of us in the eyes.
Lily only speaks as she’s prompted, but her words are flat and lifeless. She doesn’t look at me, and she certainly doesn’t smile.
Despite the bitterness in her tone, when I repeat the words, I keep my gaze on her.
It’s not that I’m a romantic by any means, but I mean every word. As much as Lily doesn’t seem to want to acknowledge it, promises matter in my world, and I don’t do most things just for the hell of it.
I might not know her well at all, at least not anything I’d consider beneath surface level, but that doesn’t matter. My intentions are still clear, and that doesn’t nullify my vows.
By the end, the priest says a few blessings in our native tongue, but it means nothing to Lily, of course. The paperwork is signed as easily as a business deal, and the man eventually finds his way out.
Roman puts a hand on my shoulder after the fact and gives me a knowing grin. It’s full of teasing, but there’s no mistaking the hint of something else in it. It’s almost remorseful, surely familiar with the circumstances himself.
He didn’t exactly wed Victoria in the most honest way, either.
“You’re a married man now, Mikhail…and this is only the beginning.”
As much as I normally have something to say in response, I don’t at the moment. Despite myself, I don’t want his commentary.
Luckily, he’s already halfway out the door, likely anxious to get back to Vic and the baby.
Then, we’re alone again.
But this time, we’re husband and wife.
Turning to Lily again, I half expect something. Anything to come out of her mouth. More so than anything, I hope for a glimpse of that spark I remember from before.
But she doesn’t give me anything. Instead, she stands as still as a statue while she continues to stare at the city below. I know she isn’t really focused on anything at all.
It seems like she’s holding herself together with sheer willpower alone.
“You look like you’ve been sentenced to death,” I murmur, attempting to find a moment of levity despite the circumstances.
“Same thing.”
Regardless of knowing how the situation isn’t exactly unfolding in her favor, those words irritate me anyway.
I don’t think she should be celebrating by any means, but I know there was something between us before. At the club…in my bedroom. There had been something in the way she touched me, and how she surrendered her body to me, easier than anything else.
Regardless of the booze in our systems, it wasn’t fake. I sure as hell didn’t make it up.
There had been something real mixed in, and something I’ve been craving ever since.
I know she felt it, too.
But this…it feels almost like a punishment.
Maybe I deserve it for backing her into a difficult position, but I also know it couldn’t be helped.
Attraction aside, I had to find leverage over her one way or another, and I had to make sure she couldn’t give our name up to the authorities.
Hoping to offer her as much comfort as I can, I step closer. “It doesn’t have to be a bad thing, you know.”
She turns away from me, keeping her expression hard and unwavering. “I’m sure it doesn’t need to be, but you’re making it exactly that.”
Carefully, I reach for her arm, wanting and craving that contact regardless of how subtle it may be. But she jerks away as if I burned her.
“Don’t touch me,” she mutters, eyes stern as they meet mine.
“Lily—”
“No,” she interrupts, forcing another gap between us. “You abducted me and forced me into this. Don’t try and make anything about this seem normal.”
My brows furrow slightly, and I try to swallow my pride from being rejected. “I gave you a choice, and you made that decision on your own.”
“No, you didn’t. You offered me an option that was slightly better, but not by much.”
In a bid to stay calm, I pull in a breath and exhale harder than intended, keeping my jaw tight.
I already knew the situation couldn’t be smooth all the way through, and I should’ve anticipated her resistance. But it’s still grating either way.
Like most people, I don’t enjoy being rejected—especially not after I’ve already won. After she is legally mine.
She shares my name now, and she’ll be sharing my space whether she accepts it or not. She’s under my protection, and I mean to uphold my end of the bargain.
That should mean something.
But as of right now, this marriage immediately feels like we’re chained together by our necks.
Without another word, Lily storms off before I can give an honest attempt at stopping her. She disappears out of sight with those furious steps, and after a few moments, the spare bedroom door slams shut.
I move to the bottom of the staircase and go to follow her, but I hesitate.
As much as my ego is telling me to go up there and do what I can to salvage the situation, I stop myself and run a hand down my face.
Don’t…let her have this.
It’s infuriating for some reason, but I can’t crowd her further. She’s already adjusting to enough, and I know I shouldn’t make it worse.
I need to let her sulk and scream, and maybe even throw something if it makes her feel better.
Given how quickly this has all unfolded, I need to give her time. She’ll come around eventually, even if it takes forever.
And when she’s too exhausted from resisting me, I’ll be here.
Even with acknowledging all of this, I don’t like how empty the room seems. Even if she wasn’t exactly the ideal image of warmth just a moment ago, it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
The living room feels cold, becoming a difficult pill to swallow.
I don’t know what it is about her. She isn’t the first woman to challenge me, or to put me on edge, but for some reason, she’s different.
Maybe it’s because she saw me before she knew everything and accepted the outward image I put on. Before she knew I was a Lukov, and before all the baggage that comes with being in my family settled into place.
I had seen her too.
I saw how unsure she had been standing near the bar, and how she seemed almost uncomfortable in her skin despite how willing I was to surround myself with her.
I had the feeling she wasn’t used to receiving that kind of direct attention, but I couldn’t help myself.
She was too appealing to ignore, and that remains true.
She folded for me, even if her head was surely telling her to do the opposite. She touched and kissed me like I was no different from any other man in the room. Like I wasn’t a threat to her life.
During that time, I was just Mikhail, regardless of the luxury around us.
Something like that is rare, but also dangerous. Maybe that’s exactly why I can’t get her out of my head.
She’s a temptation far more sinful than anything I’ve ever had before, and I’d be an idiot to let that go.
Glancing down at the new gold band around my finger, it feels foreign and odd. I twist it once, wondering just how much meaning is truly behind it.
With a sigh, I head over to the liquor cabinet and pour myself a drink. It’s still early enough, but I don’t care—it’s my wedding day, after all. Capping the bottle, I glance out at the city below.
Out there, the clubs are still operating, deals are being made, and with mine or Roman’s blessing, blood is surely being spilled.
But from up here, everything is still and quiet.
And behind the spare bedroom door, I’m sure my new wife is crying and cursing me for ruining everything.
I let her for now.
She may not know it yet, but I always take care of what’s mine, and she is no exception.