Page 20

I stand at the altar, my eyes scanning the room, taking in the familiar faces. Business partners, allies, and a few family members fill the rows. My mother is there, seated near the front, holding Tyler in her arms. She’s cooing at him, trying to keep him quiet. He’s a restless kid, always moving, always curious. I don’t know him well, haven’t spent much time with him since I found out he existed, but everyone can see he takes after me. It’s obvious—the sharp eyes, the furrow of his little brow, even the dark hair.

I feel something stir in my chest as I watch him wriggle in my mother’s arms. I’ve faced countless enemies, built an empire from nothing, and controlled my life with precision. Being… being a father, though? It feels foreign, something I can’t quite grasp. I’m not sure how to bond with him, how to be what he needs. I know one thing for sure: I’ll protect him, just like I protect everything that’s mine.

The soft music begins, and my attention shifts. Jennifer is walking down the aisle. She’s beautiful, draped in a simple, elegant dress. Her hair is pinned back, and even from this distance, I can see the nerves in her eyes, the uncertainty in her steps. She doesn’t want this, not really. I know that, but she’s here, and that means something.

As she approaches, the tension between us is palpable. It’s been building since the day I found her again, and it hasn’t gone away. Her eyes meet mine, and I see more than just fear or hesitation. There’s something else—something deeper, something we’re both trying to ignore.

Jennifer stands before me, and the officiant begins speaking, guiding us through the vows. I barely register the words, my mind focused solely on her. The way her lips move, the softness of her skin, the curve of her neck. I’ve kissed her before, tasted her before, but something about this moment feels different. It’s official now.

When it’s time to exchange vows, her voice wavers slightly, but she pushes through. She looks at me with a mix of determination and vulnerability, like she’s trying to make peace with what’s happening. My vows come out steady, my voice low, my words simple. I don’t need to say much. This marriage is about more than words—it’s about power, protection, and control.

The officiant gives us the final cue, and I take her hand, pulling her close. As our lips meet, a rush of heat shoots through me. It’s been too long since I’ve kissed her like this, too long since I’ve felt her under my touch. The kiss is firm, lingering, and I can feel the tension in her body as she responds. She might not want this marriage, but she can’t deny what’s between us.

For a brief moment, everything else falls away. The guests, the ceremony, the business deals—it all fades. There’s just her and me, standing at the altar, our future sealed in that kiss. I pull back slowly, my hand still gripping hers, my eyes locked on hers.

There’s no turning back now.

As we turn to face the crowd, I glance over at my mother and Tyler again. He’s still squirming, his little hands reaching out, oblivious to the significance of the moment. I can’t help but wonder what kind of life he’ll have, growing up under my shadow, inheriting everything I’ve built.

Jennifer’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as we prepare to leave the ceremony. She’s been quiet for most of the day, tense, almost withdrawn. I watch her closely as she stands a few feet away from my mother, Katya, who’s cradling Tyler in her arms. The boy is Staring at me again, expression curious but calm. Jennifer, on the other hand, looks anything but at ease.

“I need to be with him,” she whispers, her voice trembling as she watches our son sleep. “He’s never been with anyone else. He’s only ever been with me.”

Katya steps forward, her expression soft but firm. Her gray eyes, sharp with wisdom, meet Jennifer’s with a steady calmness. “You don’t need to worry,” Katya says in a soothing tone, gently swaying Tyler in her arms. “I raised three boys—Timur, Maxim, Serge—and trust me, I can take care of your son for one night.”

Jennifer’s eyes flicker between Tyler and Katya, her anxiety palpable. I know she’s torn, the protective mother in her at war with the reality of what our lives have become. My mother, Katya Sharov, is not just anyone. She’s the matriarch of our family, a woman who has faced horrors Jennifer couldn’t imagine, yet raised us in the shadows of that violence. If anyone can be trusted with Tyler, it’s her.

“He’ll be fine, Jennifer,” I say, stepping closer to her. My voice is low, controlled. “He’s with my mother. She knows how to handle him.”

Jennifer bites her lip, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over. I know how hard this is for her, but I also know that she doesn’t have a choice. Not anymore.

With a reluctant nod, she finally lets go, wiping her tears quickly before they can fall. She steps closer to Katya, placing a gentle kiss on Tyler’s forehead. “Good night, baby,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Katya gives Jennifer a reassuring smile, then looks at me. “Don’t worry, Timur. He’ll sleep through the night. I’ll have him fed and rested by the time you return.”

I nod, trusting her completely. “Thank you, Mama.”

As we turn to leave, Jennifer hesitates, glancing back one more time before following me to the car. The tension in her shoulders is visible, but I don’t press her. Not yet.

The drive is quiet at first, the air between us thick with unspoken words. I glance over at her, taking in the way she stares out of the window, her mind clearly somewhere else. Probably with Tyler. I get it, but she needs to adjust. This is our new reality.

“We’ll be staying at the mansion,” I say, breaking the silence as I focus on the road ahead. “It’s big enough for the three of us, and you’ll have everything you need there.”

Jennifer doesn’t respond immediately, her eyes still fixed on the passing scenery. Her silence grates on me, and I grip the steering wheel tighter.

“You’ll have your own space, of course,” I continue. “A place to raise Tyler, to live comfortably.”

Still nothing. She’s distant, closed off. It’s starting to piss me off.

“Jennifer,” I say, more sharply this time. “This is happening whether you like it or not. You’re my wife now. You and Tyler will live with me. End of story.”

Her gaze finally shifts to me, her eyes full of emotions I can’t quite read. “Why bother telling me? It’ll happen either way.” she murmurs, her voice low.

I don’t answer immediately, because she’s right. She didn’t have a choice. It’s not about that anymore. This is the life she has now, and she needs to accept it. I’m not going to let her wallow in pity or regret.

“We’re a family now,” I say simply, my voice firm. “That’s all that matters.”

Jennifer turns back to the window, but I catch the way her hands grip the fabric of her dress, the way her jaw tightens. She’s holding something back, something she wants to say but doesn’t. I know she hates this situation, hates me for what I’ve forced her into. Deep down, there’s a part of her that doesn’t completely hate it.

The attraction between us is still there, simmering beneath the surface. I can’t deny that I enjoy knowing she’s mine, even if she resents it. She belongs to me now, and I’ll make damn sure she remembers that every single day.

The car pulls up to the mansion, and I glance at her once more before stepping out. “Welcome home,” I say, holding the door open for her.

Jennifer hesitates for a moment, then steps out, her eyes taking in the sprawling estate before us. I can see the apprehension in her expression, the uncertainty. She’s nervous, and she should be. Life with me isn’t going to be easy, but it’s the only life she has now.

As we walk toward the entrance, I glance back at her. “Tyler will be here tomorrow. You’ll see him soon enough.”

We climb the wide, spiraling staircase, the quiet between us punctuated by the sound of our footsteps against the polished wood. The mansion looms around us, grand and imposing, but Jennifer’s tension is palpable. I can sense her unease as she glances around, taking in the grandeur that is now her home.

“Your things will be delivered from Italy soon,” I say as we walk down the long hallway toward the master bedroom. “For now, you’ve got your essentials… and that red dress.” My lips twitch into a smirk. That dress is imprinted in my mind—sexy, lacy, and leaving very little to the imagination.

Jennifer casts me a sidelong glance, but she doesn’t respond. I know what she’s thinking—what I’m about to make her do—but she’s smart enough not to argue. Instead, she nods, her eyes darting away, and the silence returns between us.

We reach the bedroom, and I push open the door. The sheets are perfectly pressed and inviting, lush curtains drawn.

“You’ll shower in there,” I say, motioning to the en suite bathroom connected to the bedroom. “Put on the dress.”

Jennifer’s fingers tighten around the strap of her bag, but she nods again, obediently walking toward the bathroom. I watch her disappear behind the door, the tension clinging to her like a second skin. The game we’re playing isn’t lost on me, and I can’t deny the thrill it brings, seeing her submit to my will.

I walk out of the bedroom and head across the hall to the second bathroom. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I step inside, peeling off the jacket of my wedding suit. The black suit clings to my frame, perfectly tailored to fit every line of my body. The crisp white shirt beneath is unbuttoned at the collar now, the tie hanging loose around my neck. The jacket had been a symbol of power during the ceremony, but now I discard it with ease, letting it fall over a chair.

My reflection stares back at me, cold and composed. Sharp jawline, dark hair swept back, and piercing blue eyes that betray none of the chaos inside. I splash some water on my face, letting it cool my skin. The gold wedding band on my hand feels heavier than I expected, a constant reminder of the commitment I’ve just made, whether Jennifer likes it or not.

I run a hand through my hair, straightening myself before slipping off the shirt. The muscles of my chest and arms flex beneath the light, the result of years of rigorous training, both physical and mental. In this world, appearance is everything, and weakness—whether physical or emotional—is never an option.

I pull on a clean pair of black pants, leaving my chest bare for the moment. There’s no need for formality anymore, not in the privacy of my bedroom. Not when Jennifer’s about to walk out in that red dress.

I dry my hands and head back into the hallway, my mind already focused on the woman waiting in the en suite. She’s probably trying to stall for time, nervous about what comes next. She should be.

I push open the bedroom door again, stepping inside and making my way toward the bed. The soft fabric of the sheets crinkles beneath me as I sit down and then stretch out, lying on my back with my arms crossed behind my head. I’ve never been one for patience, but tonight, I’m willing to wait.

This moment is inevitable, and soon enough, Jennifer will understand that fighting me is useless.

I glance toward the bathroom door, the faint sound of water running behind it. My pulse quickens slightly, anticipation building as I imagine the moment she steps out in that dress, the way it’ll cling to her body, the way she’ll look at me with a mixture of defiance and submission.

It’s been a long day, and the night ahead promises to be even longer. I’m ready for it. For her.