Page 11 of Betrayal and Vows (Bratva Vows #2)

Lena

B runch is a parade of people pretending to be important.

The Orlov estate has been transformed. Again.

I think it would be more fun to burn the money these people are spending.

The wedding is not just a wedding.

It’s a two-week celebration.

I’m so over it. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to marry Mikhail.

I want Anton.

He’s all I can think about.

His hands on my body.

His mouth.

His cock.

I hear someone laugh and bring my attention back to the moment. I hope no one notices my cheeks are flush.

I stare at the champagne towers, fruit-carved swans, and servers in tuxedos balancing delicate porcelain trays like the fate of the world depends on how many canapés they distribute per minute.

It’s all so elegant.

So curated.

So fake.

I sit like a good little bride-to-be at the center table beside Mikhail. He’s barely said two words to me, which is fine. I don’t want to talk to him. He’s busy charming an oil executive’s wife. If I’m lucky, he’ll take her to bed tonight.

So far, I have avoided finding myself in it, but living under the same roof makes it tricky. I’ve seen the way he looks at me. Like I’m dessert and he’s trying to figure out what part of me to devour first.

The thought sends revulsion running through my body.

Here I am, acting the part of a Bratva princess and inside, I’m dying.

Can no one see?

My eyes scan the room. People see me, but they don’t truly see the real me.

They see my pretty dress. My hair perfectly styled. My makeup done just right. And my fake smile.

What they don’t see is the woman on the inside that’s struggling to draw breath in the dress that’s too tight. My shoes are killing my toes. The makeup feels like it’s choking out my pores.

I absently play with the bracelet on my wrist. It’s one of the only real things I own. My grandmother had given it to me before she died. It’s worth little in a monetary sense, but it’s special to me.

It’s the only thing I wear that didn’t come from the Orlovs. My earrings and necklace were delivered to my room earlier. It’s all about flaunting their wealth. Making sure everyone in the room knows I belong to the Bratva.

I feel the bracelet give. The clasp needs to be replaced but I keep putting it off. I’m afraid to take it to the jeweler. What if I don’t get it back? What if they lose it?

I move to retrieve it, but someone is faster.

Anton.

He’s always close now.

Always watching.

I barely see him approach but suddenly, he’s kneeling beside me, fingers curling around the delicate gold.

Our hands meet for exactly three seconds. It’s nothing more than our fingertips brushing.

But it feels like he’s caressing my flesh.

His jaw muscle tightens. I watch it clench, hard and fast, like he’s angry at himself for touching me. Or maybe just angry that he felt it too.

He hands it to me and then fades away.

I knew he was near, but I hadn’t seen him since I sat down.

There’s comfort knowing he is around.

Comfort and more stress than what is healthy. Because he told me I couldn’t look at him like I wanted to climb him. I’m trying not to but he’s just… hot.

I reach for the champagne glass and happen to glance up and see my mother watching me.

Her eyes narrow. She sees everything. Of course she does. I give her a bright smile before taking a sip from my glass.

After the meal is over, the guests migrate to the garden.

I follow dutifully, my heels clicking against the marble floor before sinking slightly into the soft grass.

The violinist sits beneath a white pavilion, her bow dancing across the strings in a melody that's supposed to be romantic but sounds full of melancholy to my ears.

Waiters are there with more champagne. It’s not even noon and the alcohol is flowing. After one, the champagne will be switched out for vodka.

It’s not a bad idea. Maybe I can just be drunk for the next two weeks. Once I’m married, I plan on staying drunk.

"Lena, darling!" Mrs. Baranov approaches with her arms outstretched. She's the wife of one of Vadim's business partners. And I hate her. And her nasty daughter. "You look absolutely radiant."

"Thank you," I say, accepting her air kisses. "You look lovely as well."

She beams and launches into a story about her daughter's recent engagement. I nod and smile at all the right moments, but my eyes keep scanning the garden. Where is he?

A group of younger women cluster near the fountain. I excuse myself from Mrs. Baranov and drift toward them, playing my part. The perfect bride-to-be. Happy and carefree.

"Lena!" Katya waves me over. "We were just talking about honeymoon destinations. Where are you and Mikhail going?"

"Italy," I lie smoothly. I have no idea where we're going. Or if we're going anywhere at all. "The Amalfi Coast."

They all sigh appreciatively and pepper me with questions about wedding details. I answer automatically, my attention divided. Still no sign of Anton.

The champagne from brunch sits heavy in my stomach. I need a moment. Just one moment away from all these watching eyes.

"Excuse me," I say to the group. "I need to powder my nose."

I make my way back toward the house, careful to keep my expression pleasant and relaxed. Just a bride stepping away for a moment. Nothing unusual.

I smile and nod at my mother who is still watching me. Her and my father are so afraid I’m going to do something to make Mikhail not want me.

If only that was an option.

I step onto the cobblestone with grass and what I think might be thyme growing between the cracks. When someone steps on it, I’m certain I smell something herbaceous.

I don't hear or see him, but I feel him. That familiar presence that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

And then he’s there.

Anton falls into step behind me, close enough that I can smell his aftershave. It’s very unique. Eucalyptus. He’s always clean-shaven.

Just thinking about that square jaw has my heart racing.

"You shouldn't have left the garden alone," he says quietly.

"I'm not alone," I murmur without turning around. "You're here."

I can practically feel his jaw clench at that. Good. I'm not the only one struggling with this impossible situation.

The powder room is just ahead when disaster strikes. My heel catches in the hem of my dress—this ridiculously long, flowing thing that cost more than most people's cars. I stumble forward, my hands reaching out to break my fall.

But I don't fall.

Anton grabs my elbow with his hand on my lower back. “ Solnyshko,” he whispers.

His sunshine. I’m his sunshine. His pet name for me almost has me weeping.

I turn to face him. I just need one look.

His hand stays on my back, his other sliding to take my hand.

I see a flash. And then the photographer. He snaps a picture.

And then another.

Anton turns and sees the man. He immediately drops his hands away and steps back. “Govno.”

Shit is right.

I turn and act like nothing untoward has happened.

Anton says nothing as he follows me to the bathroom and then waits outside.

When I emerge, I feel like I’m put back together.

I return to the party and once again, Anton fades into the background, but I know he’s there.

An old childhood friend, Lev, approaches.

He wraps me in a warm hug. “I knew you were going to grow up and be pretty.”

I laugh and slap at his chest. “You made fun of my big teeth and skinny legs.”

He winks. “I was testing you. Building character." His grin is infectious. "Look how well you turned out."

I feel genuinely happy for the first time in weeks.

Lev and I grew up together before his family moved to St. Petersburg. He's one of the few people who knew me before I became this polished version of myself.

"How long are you in Moscow?" I ask.

"Just for the wedding festivities. My father insisted I come pay my respects." His expression grows more serious. "Are you happy, Lena?"

The question catches me off guard. “Of course!” I blurt out.

I can’t risk anyone thinking otherwise.

He reaches up and brushes away a strand of hair that has fallen from the elaborate updo the hairstylist did for me. “Are you sure?” His voice is low as he looks into my eyes.

I hear a sound and actually look down to see if a dog has snuck into the garden.

It’s a low, dangerous growl.

Anton is standing behind me. Jaw stone. Eyes murderous.

Lev glances over my shoulder and looks confused.

“Security,” I answer.

“He looks like he wants to tackle me.”

I laugh awkwardly. “He’s… thorough.”

Anton doesn’t say a word.

Just stares at Lev like he’s already buried him in six different ways in six different places.

Lev nods but looks nervous.

“It’s good to see you, Lena. I’m glad you’re happy.”

He drifts away to talk to someone else. I’m pulled into another conversation but notice Lev keeps looking my way.

Ten minutes later, Lev disappears.

Gone .

I only notice when I remember something funny from our childhood and want to ask him if he remembers.

My eyes scan the crowd but don’t see him.

I spot Anton near the hedge wall, arms folded, watching the crowd like a wolf at a petting zoo.

I sidle up beside him, keeping an appropriate distance.

“Where’s Lev?”

He doesn’t even blink. “Left.”

“Just like that?”

“He wasn’t on the guest list.”

“That’s a lie.”

“I didn’t like him.”

“Anton.”

He shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal he removed one of my friends.

He got rid of him for me.

And that should scare me.

But it doesn’t.

It makes me feel safe.

Like no one can touch me without answering to him.

“Be good,” I say and walk away.

The rest of brunch passes like that.

Another guest tries to flirt. Anton suddenly blocks the view with his broad frame.

A server trips near me.

Anton is shoving him away from me like he’s personally responsible for any stain removal on my ridiculous dress.

Touch-her-and-die is not just a mood. It’s his mission.

It thrills me.

And kills me.

Because I can’t keep him.

As the party slows, I reach for another glass of champagne, because if I don’t drown myself in something fizzy and French, I might scream in the middle of Vadim’s rose garden.

Anton is beside me again.

“That’s enough.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve had three.”

“Now you’re counting?”

“Someone has to.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one.”

His words hit like ice.

I turn slowly, ready to let the man have it. I’m in a pissy mood, and he’s right there. A target I didn’t know I needed. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

“I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“I’m trying to survive this damn brunch without crying in public.”

He doesn’t even look at me.

I take the glass anyway. Sip defiantly.

He doesn’t stop me.

But he doesn’t leave either.

“Darling,” my mom says, with that velvet voice and that surgically polite smile that means someone’s about to bleed. “We need to talk. Now.”

My stomach drops.

“You’ll stay here.” The comment is directed at Anton.

He turns that steely-eyed gaze on her.

“Five minutes,” Mom says.

I almost want to laugh. Even she isn’t immune to his lethal stare.

Mom leads me through the maze of guests and into one of the empty side salons. I almost want to laugh when I catch a hint of eucalyptus.

Anton is following.

Mom notices and says something under her breath before she closes the door and leaves Anton standing outside the door.

She whips around and pins me with one of her icy looks.

“I saw you.”

“Everyone has seen me today.”

She narrows her eyes. “I. Saw. You. And him.”

I cross my arms. “I don’t know what you think you saw?—”

“I’m not blind, Lena.”

I shrug.

“I see the way you look at Anton.”

“So what?”

“Vadim and Lenoid will kill him. You know they will. If they don’t, Mikhail will.”

I open my mouth to argue—then stop.

Because… that’s not fear in her voice.

It’s panic.

Protective panic.

“You’re on his side,” I whisper.

“I care about you , ” she snaps. “You’re going to get yourself and him killed.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“Then why are you being so reckless?”

“Because I’m tired of pretending I’m fine!” My voice cracks. “I’m tired of everyone making choices for me, of being the sacrificial lamb in designer shoes!”

She sighs, her shoulders that are always held back slump forward.

“I didn’t choose this. You and Dad just offered me up like some sort of twisted peace offering. Do you know how heartbreaking it is to plan a wedding you have no desire to survive?”

She opens her mouth. Closes it.

“I’m marrying a monster to keep this family safe. I have given everything, and I don’t even get to look at someone who makes me feel alive?”

She’s silent for a long beat. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Then stop suffocating me.”

I brush past her and storm out before she can say another word.

Anton falls in step behind me.

I grab another glass.

“Lena,” he growls.

I whip around, daring him to stop me.

He doesn’t.