Page 6

The air was filled with the savory aroma of roasting meats and freshly baked bread, wafting from the nearby kitchen. It teased and invaded my senses.

Impeccably dressed in an ash-colored suit, my polished shoes, glistening in the lights, clicked against the marble floor.

Exuding an aura of confidence, I glided toward the private dining hall in Pakhan Artem's grand estate—a masterpiece of opulence and refinement. The warm, golden glow of the crystal chandeliers that hung from the high, vaulted ceilings enveloped me. Rich, dark paneling adorned the walls, seeming to absorb the light, creating a sense of exclusivity.

The dining table, a long, polished mahogany, dominated the center of the room. It was set with fine white linens, delicate crystal glasses, and elegant silverware.

The soft hum of quiet conversations filled the air, and smiling faces occupied their seats at the table. My brother and a few other close relations were already present, as was Pakhan Artem himself.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” a sweet, familiar feminine voice came from behind.

I turned to face the speaker, and there she was, as beautiful as ever. Her long, dark hair was styled in a bun on top of her head, and her sparkling green eyes crinkled at the corners as her lips curled into a smile. Her knee-length flare gown hung loosely over her graceful curves, with a diamond jewel glistening around her neck.

“Sierra,” I greeted, a small smile playing on my lips as I sketched a brief, courteous bow.

As the wife of the Pakhan , her presence commanded the same respect as her husband's. But beyond the rules of power, I personally had so much respect for her as an individual.

“Tonight's meeting is about you,” she said, her voice smooth and endearing. “Showing up late isn't a good sign of a serious husband,” she teased, tapping my shoulder.

“I bet he'll be late for his own wedding,” Lev chipped in from his seat, his cutlery digging into his meal.

A scattered laugh rose from the immediate family members at the table.

“Very funny, Brother,” I replied, my tone playful and sarcastic.

“Take a seat, Erik,” Pakhan Artem said, gesturing at a reserved chair. “Our guests will be here soon.”

I did as instructed, beaming a smile at Zoya before settling in the chair beside her. “You look amazing,” I whispered to her, adjusting in my seat.

“Thank you,” she replied with the same tone, a smile spreading across her face. “And you look dashing.” Zoya leaned forward and added, her voice falling below a whisper, “She'll love you.”

Yeah, I'm not so sure about that, I thought to myself but retained my small smile.

Zoya seemed elated tonight, curious and excited to meet the man arranged for her. I hadn't seen her smile this much before, and quite frankly, the girl beside me didn't look eighteen.

For some reason, she appeared a lot more mature tonight than on a regular day. Perhaps it was the makeup and the elegant dinner gown that accentuated her curves. Liam would be pleased to meet her.

Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same about myself. The O'Brian girl and I had already started off on the wrong foot. She had shown herself to be arrogant and sassy, and while she was intelligent, I was convinced that she would make a terrible wife.

However, I hadn’t agreed to do this on an emotional basis. No. This arrangement was strictly business, and the alliance between my family and hers would be beneficial to both parties.

It didn't matter what I wanted. As long as the Bratva demanded something of me, I'd obey without complaints. My loyalty was first to the Tarasov family before my own personal gain. If spending the rest of my life with a spoiled little brat was the only way to help the Bratva ascend to greater heights, then that was a price I'd gladly pay.

A familiar perfume invaded my senses, though the scent was faint in the air, as though the owner was in the living room. I just wasn't sure where I'd smelled it before or whose perfume it was.

Less than ten seconds later, the O'Brians arrived, the full squad heading toward the dining table.

Patrick O'Brian led the way, his wife by his side, both scanning the room with discreet glances. Patrick's impeccably tailored black suit exuded confidence, wealth, and power, as did his wife's elegant dress. Two of his bodyguards flanked them, their chiseled features accentuating their ruggedness.

Liam and his right-hand man, Connor, walked side by side, both dressed to impress, their muscles bulging from underneath their blazers. A few other unfamiliar faces accompanied them, and then there was her.

I felt my heart skip a beat at the sight of Tessa O'Brian, and it was as if time itself stood still. Her presence turned heads and raised eyebrows, and even Zoya had her jaw dropped—literally. I heard one of my relatives whistle under his breath, and I could tell he was looking at her.

Her long red dress clung to her like a second skin, highlighting her curvature and hugging her in the right places. The daring slit at the base of her gown revealed a tantalizing glimpse of her alluring legs as she glided gracefully toward the table.

Her light makeup matched her skin tone, and her long, dark hair was styled in effort waves that cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall. Tessa stood out from her entire family, her elegance drawing everyone's attention.

“Is that her?” Zoya leaned closer, her tone a low whisper.

I was wondering the same thing, struggling to recognize this drop-dead gorgeous diva, this goddess. Was she the same sassy and fearless young woman I’d met back at the poker game?

I'll be damned.

Zoya took her eyes off Tessa and looked at me, beaming. “She's gorgeous.”

“It appears you got yourself a hot woman,” one of my relatives whispered to me, chuckling softly.

“Artem Tarasov,” Patrick greeted our Pakhan with a warm smile.

“O'Brian.” Artem rose to his feet, the two men shaking hands.

Lev and I left our seats and strolled over to greet the guests, shaking their hands with warm smiles—plastic but warm. It would take some time to get used to this alliance.

I could sense the hesitation from their side as well, but this treaty was essential, and it demanded that we set aside our differences.

As we exchanged pleasantries, my attention remained focused on Tessa. We hadn't spoken yet, and she was still occupied with Sierra. Both women chatted and smiled. Their conversation, although brief, appeared to be the most genuine, and their broad grins were sincere and authentic.

“Erik,” a deep, husky voice cut through my thoughts.

I turned to face the speaker, my expression stoic. “Liam.”

He extended his hand, and I did the same, shaking his. “She'll be all yours soon enough.” His lips curled into a sly smirk, stealing a glance at his sister. Liam patted my shoulder and made his way to the table, where he was introduced to Zoya, the girl with an infectious smile.

A faint smirk twitched at a corner of my mouth as my gaze met with Tessa's for a fleeting moment. Her eyes squinted ever so slightly, a fiery glint flickering in their depths.

I headed back to my seat, and she settled in a vacant chair across from mine. Her brows furrowed when she realized that I was directly opposite her, and her subtle discomfort gladdened my heart.

“We meet again,” I said, holding her gaze, drinking in beauty.

Her palm smoothed down the fabric of her dress, her fiery eyes never leaving mine. “How fortunate.” Her enticing red lips curled into a plastic smile, her voice polite but laced with sarcasm.

I leaned back in my chair, watching her, knowing how uncomfortable my piercing gaze made her feel. She wore a mask of confidence, her expression blank, but I could see right through her, and I could tell that she didn't want to be there.

Perhaps she wasn't in agreement with the plan our families had for us. Her skepticism was understandable, considering the intense outcome of our last encounter.

Her large, dark eyes seemed to hold a deep sadness, shrouded by the veil of confidence she wore. Her pale skin simmered in the lights, her full lips red, sexy, and inviting. The very first time I’d set eyes on her, I knew she was beautiful. But tonight, she wasn't just beautiful; she radiated like a goddess.

To my left, Zoya's soft giggles caught my attention. Her smile was broad, and she seemed engrossed in a conversation with Liam. His eyes crinkled at the corners, his voice soft and delicate. He addressed her with nothing but respect, a glint of passion dancing in his gaze.

Perhaps luck had smiled on the both of them, and the fact that Liam treated Zoya with respect meant that he was an honorable man. Maybe I'd give him the benefit of the doubt and lower my guard around him.

They seemed happy and were getting along just fine, unlike Tessa and me. My attention drifted back to her direction, but she'd left the table. Lev caught my eyes and nodded toward the balcony, indicating her present location.

Everyone else was carried away with one thing or the other. Pakhan Artem and Patrick O'Brian were having a private discussion at the head of the table. Ms. O'Brian and Sierra were talking about God-knows-what, their tone hushed, with smiles on their faces.

Connor and Arlo sat facing each other, staring with unmistakable skepticism. Neither trusted the other, and the tension between them was palpable.

Lev and a few of our cousins focused on their meals, while the others dared to engage with the O'Brian associates.

The air buzzed with the soft hum of conversations and the clinking of glassware. In silence, unnoticed by many, I stood up and glided over to the balcony, curious about why she had left everyone at the table.

She stood, bathed in the moon's ethereal glow. Her skin shimmered in the soft light, and the cool night air blew her hair back. Her high heels added to her overall look as she gazed across the horizon.

The city was awake, sprawled before her, its lights twinkling like the stars in the celestial canvas. Sirens wailed in the distance, a shooting star traveling across the night sky.

“Make a wish,” I said, tracing her gaze to the shooting star.

With one hand in my pocket, I approached her and leaned against the polished handrail.

Tessa turned her gaze to my face, her expression softening just a bit. “If I did, I’d be a million miles away from you, trust me,” she replied, meeting my eyes, a flicker of sincerity shining in their depths.

“Fair enough,” I muttered, turning to cast my gaze across the city unfolding before me. “But the reality is, we're stuck with each other,” I added without looking in her direction.

She took a deep breath, stepping closer, her heels clicking against the floor. “And you're okay with that? Is that what you want?” she asked, her tone tinged with exhaustion.

I turned back to face her, my voice calm and smooth. “It doesn't matter what I want, Tessa. It is what it is.”

She scoffed, her manicured fingers rubbing her eyes. “Well, I'm not on board with this arrangement; in fact, I hate it,” she blurted out, her voice indignant. “You wanna know the truth, Erik? This isn't gonna work.”

“You don't get it, do you?” I began, maintaining my calm demeanor. “It's not meant to ‘work’.” I air-quoted the word. “It's meant to stabilize and strengthen both our families. It just so happens that we're the—”

“Sacrificial lambs?” she cut me off, her brows arched.

I hesitated for a moment, holding her intense gaze. “For lack of a better word, yes.”

She let out a dismissive scoff. “You're sick…all of you.” The slight pause came when she paced back and forth with slow steps.

“Maybe,” I said, leaning my back against the handrail. I kept my gaze fixed on her. “Or maybe we're just loyal to our course and willing to do whatever it takes to stand up for what we believe in.” My lips curled into a sly grin as I spoke, my voice calm yet dripping with condescension. “From the way it looks, you're not familiar with that concept, are you?”

Her eyes narrowed, forming faint creases between her brows as she glared at me. My remark had stung her like a bee.

In my defense, she’d started it during our last conversation when she said my family lacked honor. Her words had lingered since that night, and I'd waited patiently for the best time to retaliate.

Her expression darkened momentarily before her eyes widened slightly, as if a light bulb had gone off in her head. “I have an idea,” she said, a faint grin tugging at the corners of her lips.

I arched my brows, curious to find out what she'd cooked up. “Humor me.”

“Okay, so my brother is supposed to marry Zoya, right?”

“Yes, but she's not of age. Their union isn’t due for two years,” I replied, a bit dismissive.

But obviously, she hadn't even made her proposal yet.

“Hear me out,” she began, drawing closer, her voice falling to a soft whisper. “Since we both know this isn't going to work and the plan is to strengthen both our families, why not do it this way? We stay married for two years until Zoya's mature enough to be my brother's wife.”

I squinted, realizing where she was going with this.

“In the meantime, I'll be yours; I'll do my part, be your wife, and fulfill whatever role is expected of me,” she explained, her eyes locked onto mine. “But the moment Liam and Zoya get married, we’ll divorce.” She paused, anticipating my response. “This way, we'll kill two birds with one stone; our families will get what they want, and so will we. In the end, it's a win-win.”

Initially, I thought it wouldn't make sense, but after exploring the idea further, I realized that it might actually work. Two years was sufficient to cement our control over the Irish territory and secure the success of our alliance.

Although the Russian tradition frowned upon divorce, her suggestion was a strategic decision. Unlike Zoya's and Liam's engagement, ours wasn't based on sentiment or tradition. Letting her go once the alliance was secured was smarter than risking everything with an unhappy partnership.

This would work if we both played our parts well. Her plan was a clean exit we could take after the goal of our marriage was achieved.

My lips curled into a sly grin as I stepped forward and extended my hand. “Fine. But until then, you're my wife in every sense of the word.” My eyes wandered over her incredible body. “Deal?”

She drew a deep breath, her chest heaving slowly as she took my hand, sealing our fates. “Deal.”