Chapter 5
LEKS
The thing is interminable. Three hours of rites that didn’t make sense centuries ago and certainly haven’t become any more interesting in the interim.
Candles. Rings. Prayers. Crowns.
All I’m waiting for is for Natalia to say two words, myself to do the same, and instead there’s a priest talking for hours. I go through with it, because it’s my ticket to power, but every second I become a little more restless. Years of hard labor in Siberia have made me bad at staying still.
The only part that’s bearable is Natalia. I can see why the potential suitors have been lining up, even with her reputation for wedding-day embarrassment. I wouldn’t have cared if she was ugly, obviously. This whole thing isn’t about her, it’s about taking everything Maksim Bryusov has.
Not that she’s my type. Not at all. Too delicate, too high-maintenance. A fragile, pretty thing with no real purpose, like all the paintings her family deal in. The softest part of the Bratva you could be involved in. They’re more of a museum foundation than a crime family.
The silk and lace of that wedding dress must have cost enough to feed a family for years.
The thought makes my stomach churn. I know what it’s like to go hungry, I’ve always known, and the Bryusovs would have no fucking idea about that.
Still, maybe the way the ridiculous dress pushes her breasts up together and sweeps over her waist is worth it.
I imagine that standing on your wedding altar fantasizing about titty-fucking your bride is frowned upon in the Russian Orthodox Church. Never was a believer, though.
The only part of the ceremony that I really pay attention to is the kiss.
Something about touching Natalia wakes me up. Probably because it’s been too long since I’ve gotten laid.
She flinches away when I reach for her, but I splay my hand on her waist, feeling her tense with fear. I don’t delude myself that there’s any kind of excitement on her part. Not from Maksim Bryusov’s daughter. That fire flickering in her clear green eyes is hatred.
Her gaze travels past me down the aisle. I’m fantasizing about fucking her and she’s fantasizing about escaping me — of course she is. That’s her reputation, the bride who leaves men on the altar.
Too bad. My first kiss with my wife will not be while she’s staring over my shoulder and thinking about leaving.
I take her chin in my hand and yank her gaze to mine. Her soft green eyes widen, her lips parting on a gasp. I want to make her do that again, in a different context.
My other hand glides up her back to that patch of skin my fingers brushed while I was lacing up her corset.
She’d liked me, then. I can be charming when I need to be.
She shivers against my touch and I pull her closer.
It might be wishful thinking but I think she takes a half-step closer, so that she’s tucked against my chest, staring up at me with those impossibly clear green eyes.
I bend down to kiss her — such a long way to go, because she’s fucking tiny, and brush my lips over hers. The sigh is what gets me. A puff of air that smells like roses and sugar right before our lips meet, drowning me in her scent.
Fuck.
She barely kisses me back, parting her lips beneath mine in the gentlest motion. I lose myself for a minute and lick her upper lip, needing more of that taste and for one second, I forget who she is. Forget that none of this is real. She tastes sweet and pure… and metallic?
Metallic. Like blood.
The sharp pain hits me a second after the taste.
Natalia Bryusova just bit me.
She pulls back and smiles up at me sweetly, as I bring my hand to my lower lip and wipe the blood away.
Those green eyes flicker at me as she turns to the cheering crowd, who don’t know that she’s not the pretty little princess they all think she is.
Confirmed. This girl is going to fight me every step of the way.
That was the most enjoyable part of the whole ceremony.
What I didn’t foresee was the melodrama afterwards.
As soon as we’re out of the chapel and back in that ridiculous fucking mansion — which will be repurposed into a home for children in need as soon as that motherfucker Maksim is where he belongs, in the ground — Natalia’s mother starts up on the waterworks.
Throwing herself at my feet and begging me not to take her daughter. Maksim stands by and watches, incapable of controlling his wife or comforting her.
Natalia just sits quietly in the corner, her cat curled in her lap.
“Wait,” she calls when she sees my men have packed her things. She dashes out of the room and comes back with a crate for the cat.
“Please, can I bring Dasha? She’s well behaved.”
Natalia’s face is absolutely neutral as she looks at me, as though she’s used to schooling her emotions into bland politeness. She’s not matching her mother’s waterworks or hysteria. Which is good, because I’m getting a fucking headache from it all.
There’s no reason to deny her this. She is not Maksim.
“Fine.” There is a rat problem on the docks. From the size of that tabby cat, it should be able to make a dent in the population.
I nod my head to the door to signal that it’s time to go.
Now her mother starts on her, instead of me, shaking her daughter’s shoulders.
“Malyshka… I know your father has agreed to this. I know that you are married to this monster now in the eyes of God. But I beg you, please don’t consummate this marriage. Do not get into bed with the man who killed Fyodor and Pyotr.”
Her face darkens as she glares at me.
“Fight him off. Stay away from him. Make this a marriage in name only and I will find you a way out of it.” She raises her hands to the sky then kisses her crucifix necklace.
Good luck, lady.
God might be on your side after how filthy my mind went during that wedding ceremony…but even he can’t stop your husband being a crook.
“Mama, it’s okay. It will be okay.” Natalia kisses her mother on both cheeks.
She shoots me an uncertain look.
“He will not hurt me.”
I nod my head in agreement.
“You will be safe here,” Natalia continues.
I give a half-nod. I have no plans to harm Maksim’s wife, but if she gets in our way…
“And I’ll still be able to visit you.”
She’s pushing it. I give a shrug at that one. I have no desire to come back here, not until I find a way to get rid of Maksim without risking my newfound seat on the Bratva Council.
Natalia’s mouth tightens at that, but she continues reassuring her mother. “We’ll still be able to talk, Mama. It’s not as if I’m leaving the country.”
I don’t acknowledge that one. I have no immediate plans to leave the country, but I will need to in future. If I choose to take my wife with me, that’s none of their concern.
The woman continues to sob against her daughter’s shoulder. I’ve had enough.
I’m bored of this.
How is it that Natalia is the one being married off to a lowlife criminal and her mother is the one who needs comfort?
I am over this fucking melodrama. I pull Natalia away from her mother. She straightens her shoulders and picks up the cat crate without looking at me.
Maksim stands silently by, not even giving his wife false reassurance. I’ve made clear exactly what’s in store for him. He knows this is not over.
As we leave, her mother’s shriek echoes in my ears.
“Don’t let him touch you, malyshka. Promise me, on your dear babushka’s grave.”
Natalia did so, clutching her mother’s hands as the old lady prayed to some fucking saint to protect her virtue. The prayer didn’t calm her down at all.
I think it was only the look on my face that made her mother let her go. She called after us down the hallway.
“We will find a way out of this madness that your father has agreed to. We will. We must.”
It’s cute, almost.
That they think they can stop me.
That they think taking their daughter’s virginity is the worst of my plans for them.
This pretty little princess beside me is one piece of the puzzle, that’s all.
Irrelevant, even if she is nice to look at.