Page 18

It’s my wedding day.

Yep, time went by like a blur, as if the universe itself was eager to ruin my life. Everything happened so fast, and I’d barely even registered what the actual fuck was going on. All I knew was that today was the day I got joined in holy matrimony to a man I knew little to nothing about.

Story of my life.

The room smelled like roses and power as I stood before the full-length mirror, holding a bouquet of flowers. I wondered what people would see when they looked at me: a woman ready for marriage or one about to bury a part of herself.

I drew a deep breath, blinking back the tears that stung my eyes.

My makeup—light and perfectly blended with my skin tone—masked the bags under my eyes, a testament to my sleepless nights.

The white silk lace was impeccably tailored to hug me in all the right places, accentuating my curves and contours.

My hair was styled into an elegant bun with a few neat strands escaping to frame my face.

In a few minutes, I’d officially be part of the Bianchi family—Lucas’s wife and his pride.

The man had been excited about this union since the inception of the plan; I bet he must really feel good about himself now.

My father was, at last, pleased with me, considering how well I’d been cooperating for a week before the big day.

I’d accepted defeat, accepted my fate, and there was no going back now. This was the day I would throw away my whole life just to please my parents and secure the family’s future. Mom had said that I was doing the right thing, that it was what was best for the family.

At this point, I was done fighting a losing battle.

And so I convinced myself that it wouldn’t be as terrible as I thought.

Besides, Lucas was a cool guy, gentle and brilliant.

We’d gone on a few dates before now, and although he wasn’t Sergei in any way, he wasn’t too bad either.

The man was respectful and also interested in how I spent my evenings: racing.

At first, I thought he was only into the whole biking thing just to get me to trust him.

However, as time passed, I realized that there might be a possibility that he was indeed a fan of my work.

It sort of felt good to be appreciated. We hadn’t kissed yet, although he’d tried a couple of times, but I politely turned the other way.

Lucas was nice enough to respect my decision and the boundary I set.

He hadn’t tried that again. Lucas was perfect.

Too perfect. The man was gentle, nice, and way too understanding.

I wasn’t trying to be a cynic or anything, but he was too good to a fault.

He was every woman’s dream. But sadly, he wasn’t mine.

I once read somewhere that the nicest people were often the darkest. “The more perfect someone is on the outside, the more demons they have on the inside.” Sadly, this wasn’t the case with Lucas; the man checked all the boxes, and honestly, that was fuckin’ scary.

However, no matter how much I tried to deny it, my heart still beat for only one man.

Sergei.

I hadn’t heard from him since that night at the diner. And after many failed attempts to bury his last words to me, they still echoed in my head. “Oh, trust me, sweetheart. I’ll be there.” It wasn’t just the words; it was the way he said them and the mischievous grin that played on his lips.

That night, I’d felt a cold shiver run down my spine, goosebumps crawling over my skin. It was as though I’d just heard the voice of the devil assuring me that he’d be at my wedding. Everything about that statement felt off—like a threat.

Interesting how my fleeting moment of victory, after watching the rage and pain in his gaze when he found out about the wedding, was short-lived. He managed to flip the table around and steal my thunder. I was supposed to have had the last laugh that night, but he made sure that I didn’t.

Now, I couldn’t help but wonder what he was up to.

He’s up to no good, and it’s kinda your fault, the calm, sensible voice in my head whispered.

No, it’s not, the bitter voice replied.

Sergei apologized that night.

Well, technically, he didn’t. He just explained himself.

Yeah, and he also mentioned that he couldn’t stop thinking about me.

What’s your point exactly?

My point is that this is a bad idea, and because Sergei is obsessed, he might do something stupid, said the sensible voice.

I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly, whispering to myself, “I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy, I’m not crazy.” I repeated those words over and over until the voices fell silent.

However, there was a disturbing truth in this conversation: what Sergei was up to. He did reach out and tried to explain what happened the other night at the club. Clearly, he did that because he assumed letting me in on his thoughts would somehow make it all go away, the pain and hurt.

That was Sergei’s lame attempt at trying to fix things between us. And then I broke the news about getting married to another man. I reveled in the anger in his eyes for just a moment before he switched it up, replacing his displeasure with something more sinister.

No man in his position would be cool with watching the woman he wanted tie the knot with another man. Yet, Sergei acted so calmly, as if he had something evil brewing in his head.

I shook my head, brushing off these negative thoughts sneaking into my mind. It wasn’t my fault things didn’t work out; Sergei had his chance, and he blew it. He was my past now. Lucas was my future.

Oh, yeah, say that like you mean it. I dare you, the sensible voice returned.

I ignored the voice and the hostility it carried. However, one thing was certain: I needed help, and I needed it fast before I’d completely lose my damn mind.

Today was my big day—the day that would essentially alter the course of my life. I should be more focused than distracted. In just a few hours, all of this would be over, and I’d face my reality in peace.

I took one last look at my reflection in the mirror, my jaw tightening in an attempt to keep my emotions in check. “It’s for the greater good,” Mom’s voice echoed in my head.

In a bit, I’d say “I do” to Lucas, and we’d seal our union with our first kiss. Boy, what great joy would fill my parents’ hearts, knowing that both their daughters were now married into powerful families.

Maeve’s wedding had been a huge success, and my parents expected mine to be just like hers. Or maybe even better. Nothing short of perfect. As for me, all I cared about was getting through the day with my sanity intact.

It wasn’t every day you threw your life away for the sake of your family.

I managed to squeeze out a smile and heaved a deep, long sigh, letting out all of my anxiety and pain.

It was time.

The church doors parted, and the serene notes of the classic “Wedding March” filled the air, blended with the soft murmurs of our guests. Dad’s elbow locked with mine, his head held high, pride flickering in his gaze.

“You look amazing,” he whispered, walking me down the aisle.

My lips parted into a faint grin, my eyes fixed on the man in a black suit at the altar, his back turned to me. I could feel the stares as heads turned our way, some smiling while others watched with blank expressions on their faces.

Maeve and her husband sat on the pew closest to the altar, fingers intertwined. They looked like lovestruck teenagers in high school with those beautiful smiles on their faces. My sister waved slightly at me, a glint of relief dancing in her eyes.

My gaze shifted to my mom sitting close by, beaming with pride, a hand resting on her chest. My brothers were present today, and they both nodded at me, pleased that I’d made the right decision.

Our guests were all impeccably dressed, sporting fancy suits and elegant gowns paired with expensive accessories that enhanced their overall appearance. It was a beautiful day, and I was surrounded by stunning faces and influential people—some of whom I didn’t recognize.

“I know that I haven’t exactly been Father of the Year,” Dad began, his voice calm and gentle, in sync with each slow step he took, “but I’m so proud of you, Ayla.” He stole a glance in my direction, grinning widely.

In his eyes, all I saw was sincerity, like he truly meant every word he said to me. It was both satisfying and scary at the same time.

I curled my lips into a small smile. “Thanks, Dad,” I muttered.

My heart paused as we drew closer to the altar, my eyes squinting. Lucas’s men, all dressed in black, stood sentinel on one side of the altar, beside the groom—the groom who still hadn’t turned to look at his approaching bride.

Strange.

It didn’t seem like something Lucas would do.

Discreetly, my eyes swept across the men beside my husband-to-be, and something just didn’t add up. I didn’t know Lucas’s men and couldn’t identify them in a crowd. But I knew those weren’t Italian faces. No. These guys looked more…Russian.

My breath caught in my throat, and my pulse quickened with each passing second. I observed all the men in black, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest as I tried to dispel the thought creeping into my mind.

I wasn’t tripping. Those were Russian Bratva.

To make matters worse, a familiar scent invaded my nostrils—a signature cologne that I knew belonged to only one man. I didn’t know Lucas well, but I did know Sergei well enough to recognize his stance and posture even from behind.

“No,” I muttered, almost hearing the sound of heart beating loudly like a fucking drum.

That’s not Lucas.

Slowly, the man at the altar turned around. And while in motion, it was as though time itself stood still, offering me a clear look at the mysterious being before me.

A loud gasp escaped my lips, and I stopped in my tracks, reflexively dropping the bouquet in my hand. My heart sank into my stomach, and my breath ceased completely.