Page 42 of Dark Desires (Chicago Bratva #1)
“Offering a bride is the only way to settle his debt without bloodshed. Lukyan Ivanov agreed to the terms. On top of it all, this marriage will put a potential alliance with the Bratva in play. It's an advantageous match for everyone involved.”
Everyone involved but me. I feel like a sacrificial lamb, offered up to appease the monsters at our door. The very idea of being handed over to a man as dangerous as Lukyan Ivanov, all to clean up Carter's mess, is both terrifying and enraging.
“And what if I refuse?” I ask, even though I know the answer.
Sharon's smile is thin and cold. “You don't have that luxury. This marriage is happening with or without your consent. It's for the good of the family.”
Her words sealed my fate, leaving me feeling helpless and trapped. I have no choice, no voice in this decision that will alter the course of my life forever.
“You have ten minutes before the ceremony begins. Freshen up as best you can. And don’t get any ideas about leaving; there’s no way out of this room. Besides, Rory’s waiting just outside to make sure you don’t scamper off.”
“You won’t get away with this,” I snarl at her.
“My dear, I already have.”
With that, she’s gone.
Alone once more, I step in front of the full-length mirror that dominates one side of the dressing room, gazing at the reflection staring back at me.
For a fleeting moment, the urge to rebel surges through me, to mess up my carefully styled hair, to smear the makeup that adorns my face. But then I think of Carter.
Despite his foolishness and the trouble he's caused, I can't shake the knowledge that his life no doubt truly hangs in the balance.
He may be an idiot, and I may be furious with him, but I can't bear the thought of his life being snuffed out because of this mess.
My hand falls away from my hair, the moment of rebellion passing.
Before I can dwell any longer, the door opens, and Rory stands there, his imposing figure filling the doorway.
"It's time," he declares, his voice a deep, unyielding echo devoid of warmth.
The world blurs into a dreamlike haze as my stepmother's enforcer, guides me back to the transformed hall.
Tonight, the masks fall away—this is no mere celebration. It's my coerced wedding.
The crowd parts, revealing an impromptu chapel setting, complete with a grim altar and an officiant whose grave demeanor mirrors the gravity of the occasion.
My heart thunders, a frantic drum in the cavern of my chest.
With each step toward that grim altar, the chains of my impending fate grow heavier, pulling me deeper into the nightmare.
Then, I catch my first glimpse of my husband-to-be.
Both terrifying and mesmerizing, capturing my attention in a way that is spellbinding.
Despite the horrific situation, I can't deny how undeniably handsome he is.
Like a statue carved from stone, his presence commands the attention of everyone in the room.
Tall, his posture radiating confidence and power.
Black hair neatly styled, and his piercing blue eyes scan the crowd with a sharp intensity.
Intricate tattoos adorn his neck and the right side of his face, adding to his menacing allure.
His strong jawline is set, and the tailored cut of his suit accentuates his broad shoulders.
The lines of his face are sharp, his expression serious, revealing a man who has lived through countless battles and emerged unscathed.
His maturity only enhances his intimidating aura. He must be older by at least fifteen years.
As I'm led closer, the reality of what's happening hits me once again. I'm about to marry a very dangerous man. Standing before Lukyan, the air feels thick, almost suffocating with a heavy, unspoken tension.
He towers over me at least a foot and a half taller, his expression unreadable yet intensely commanding.
A strange thrill courses through me, an unsettling heat that makes my heart race and my skin tingle.
Lukyan leans in, his voice a soft, dangerous murmur at my ear. “Be a good girl and do as you’re told.” The words send a chill down my spine.
My eyes catch on the scar that runs from his temple to his jaw—a stark reminder of his ruthless past. It should scare me, but on Lukyan, it adds to his allure, casting him in the light of a dangerous, irresistible rebel.
The officiant starts the ceremony, his voice barely penetrating my whirlwind of thoughts. Lukyan’s vows resonate in a deep, clear tone, his "I do" sounding more like a vow of conquest than of love.
Then the kiss.
Charged with an intensity so powerful my cheeks flush with heat.
His lips crash against mine with an intensity that completely contradicts the briefness of the kiss. It's a deep, searing connection that jolts through me, sending a surge of electricity straight through my veins.
Everything else fades into a blur—there’s only Lukyan, and the overwhelming force of his lips ravaging mine. He slides his tongue between my lips, causing a strong sensation between my legs. The magic of his touch takes my virgin mind to the filthiest places.
Finally, his lips depart mine, leaving me yearning for more.
His expertise is evident, but for me, it's a thrilling first encounter.
He slides a ring onto my finger with a purposeful, confident gesture, sealing our vows.
Just like that, it’s official.
I am Mrs. Ivanov. My heart pounds with a wild, chaotic rhythm, and a terrifying realization dawns on me—I’m tethered to a man as enigmatic as he is feared.
With each thunderous beat of my heart, a desperate thought takes hold:
What the hell have I done?