Page 26

TWENTY-FIVE

Inessa

N ot letting go of my anger, I tilt my chin up and point out what Vlad is missing.

“You share girls with your brothers and she’s not a kid, I’m younger than her.”

I already found out her details from the gallery manager, but I don’t tell him that. It would make me seem irrational or crazy and I’d rather not open that box just yet.

He cups my cheek and strokes my lip as he shakes his head like I’m purposefully being ignorant.

“She’s a kid, ask Vitali about her when we get home.”

My lips curl up in disgust at the thought of discussing Vlad’s, or his brother’s, sexual habits. They’re the people I sit with when the brooding devil disappears and I actually like them. I don’t need the image of what they do with their parts. The revulsion weaves through my words as I ask, “You want me to ask your brothers about women they’ve had sex with?”

I move my head back like it could possibly stop him putting his hand over my mouth.

He shakes his head again and exasperation fills him as he frees my hands and hold my thighs.

“She was his best friend, the first kid who spoke to him when we moved here. No one touched her like that in our house, he would have threw a fit.”

Searching his features for a lie is pointless when he’s so good at it, but there’s one weakness he has. His family are everything and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt them. He checks they’re all sleeping safely every night, and even his asshole ways are without any heat with Viktor.

I push away any embarrassment and go to sit back in my seat like my reaction was normal. I’m on my knees with my ass in the air when he pulls on my thighs, sitting me down and reiterates what’s not needed.

“I meant what I said. This marriage will be built on agreements and clauses. But I expect your loyalty, meelaya.”

There’s no love in our world, not between parents and children. Especially not between a husband and wife. But loyalty is more, it’s rooted in respect, and I hold his shoulders, demanding the same.

“Whatever you do, I will give you with interest. You treat me with respect, I’ll play my part so well Grandfather won’t spot the lie. You fuck one person, I fuck ten and make you watch. I’ll even record it, so it plays on a loop whenever I feel like it.”

There’s no lie, I will treat him the same as he treats me. I’ll always give more though, especially if it’s fueled by anger.

Holding my thighs tighter, Vlad doesn’t issue a threat and shakes his head, agreeing with me. I can’t help gloating and flick my hair over my shoulder as pride fills me.

“Told you I was a queen. If you do what I say I’ll make you a king.”

The usually icy eyes warm and there’s an emotion I’ve never seen on his features. It’s not happiness or anything that I can name as he smiles at me and kisses my cheek. He gently lifts me off his thighs and places me back in my seat without being an asshole or making a stupid comment.

Standing in the bridal room of the Cathedral, Stasya touches up her make-up and pops her lips, making sure her lipstick is perfect. She’s the only person, other than Misha, who I grew up with and that child part of me remembered our pact to be each other’s bridesmaids when we were seven years old.

There are no nerves on my wedding day, I always thought I’d be afraid, but I know the biggest monster will be at the end of the aisle. Grandfather comes in, making the usual socialite party girl turn into a respectful junior as she slips out, leaving us alone. There’s emotion in his eyes as he holds my hands and kisses my cheeks.

“You look beautiful radnaya, you’ve made an old man very proud.”

It’s a declaration of love as much as saying the three words and I swallow around the lump building in my throat.

It won’t be looked at as controversial that my father isn’t walking me down the aisle with Grandfather being Pakhan, but the decision wasn’t based on any hierarchy. If we weren’t Bratva, I’d still pick him because he’s the only father I’ve ever known. I kiss his cheek and wipe away the lipstick mark as he stands at my side and holds his arm out for me.

The nerves come as soon as we’re threaded together. I don’t want to walk out in front of the cathedral packed with people and see every face who means nothing to me. He pats my hand as though he can sense my thoughts, and one whispered word has my spine straightening before we step out of the doors.

“Sila.”

It’s the same whisper I got when I’d cry about being left somewhere, the reminder that I’m strong. I’m powerful, and everything my father didn’t inherit skipped a generation, doubling in me.The doors open as I nod and hold my chin up with my shoulders straight.

Misha winks at me from his guard post and Grandfather gestures for the door to be closed with two fingers in a sweeping motion. I don’t know what I could have done wrong, but he waits for us to be cut off from anyone else to turn to me. He’s older, in my head he’s still the same man who would sit me on his shoulders while he worked behind his desk and let me sleep with my cheek pressed against his dark blond, nearly brown, hair. I never noticed that it’s all nearly gray now, and he morphs in my mind’s eye from the strong dedka to an aging Pakhan.

He holds my hands between his and speaks as softly as he’s able to.

“Will you be happy with the Vartanovs, Ineska?”

I try to remove the heat from my reply, and it only weakens my voice.

“We all know I’m doing this to be happy after this marriage.”

He lets out a long breath and taps my hand in his. I don’t expect apologies or remorse, but he lifts my hand and kisses the back of my fingers. There’s a slight pause when he sees the brand that’s poorly hidden under the new engagement ring Vlad gave me. He speaks so low, below a whisper, that I have to strain my ears to pick up the words.

“I don’t think there will be an after.”

I’m not able to ask what that means, and he doesn’t offer me his gun to protect myself as he turns, standing at my side again before knocking on the door for it to be opened.

My grandfather doesn’t think that I’ll survive this marriage. That’s not helping my nerves as we walk out. Misha tries to catch my eyes to check if I’m okay, but if the Pakhan can’t save me what fucking hope is there.

Dariya is already turned around in her seat with tears in her eyes as we walk towards the devil. It’s inappropriate where my thoughts go, not explicit. But I shouldn’t be laughing inside at how the devil hasn’t set aflame when stepping into the cathedral.

Valentin stands beside his brother and Anastasia is waiting on the other side. Everything disappears when I lock eyes with Vlad. There are no teary eyes or soft smile. He’s filled with determination and it’s comforting, knowing how we’ll end before it’s even begun. Hopefully, he won’t kill me like everyone is so fearful of. He’s an asshole and says the wildest shit possible, but he’s never physically hurt me. He plays the gentleman too well and shakes my grandfather’s hand before he carefully takes mine. I can’t feel his touch fully with the long lace gloves, but he strokes between my thumb and forefinger like he can feel my skin through the mesh.

The service is too long for someone that’s not even religious and I make the right sounds in the correct places as we’re guided to the center of the cathedral. Anastasia and Valentin are behind us waiting for their parts as we stand on the cloth and the priest begins the crowning. Turning to Vlad first, there are no nerves in his voice and he speaks with authority as usual.

“I am marrying Inessa Alexandrovna Mikhailovya of my own free will. I have not been promised to another, nor do I belong to another.”

The priest smiles warmly at me, waiting for the same. Swallowing around my nerves I do the same declaration.

“I am marrying Vladislav Marlenovich Vartanov of my own free will. I have not been promised to another, nor do I belong to another.”

I can see the corner of Vlad’s lips twitch. He’s probably going to remind me I said that every day for the rest of our short marriage.

My legs are cramping from being still for so long as the priest goes through each blessing and something strokes my hand. Keeping my head straight, I look down to see Vlad stretching his little finger towards me and he hooks it around mine when I do the same. The prayers come to an end and my neck feels the strain of the crown as soon as it’s placed on my head. Squeezing Vlad’s finger, I try to communicate that I’m a queen and his lips quirk in my periphery like he’s understood. Doing it back as he’s crowned, I feel lighter despite the significant weight added to my head.

I’ve been to weddings and sat mesmerized at the crowns so many times in my life, but no one tells you they’re heavy as fuck. When Stasya and Valentin move forward, lifting them above our heads, I feel better, but I know their arms will ache as we go through the rest of the prayers. The brief moment our fingers unhook while our hands are wrapped in cloth makes the nerves come back with a vengeance, and I relax when Vlad rejoins them as we start the procession, going round in a repetition of three.I wish we could talk to each other so I could give him shit about his favorite number.

My stomach takes flight as we stop in our original positions, and I tense my muscles to get it to stop as we’re officially pronounced husband and wife. He turns to face me fully, the tips of his shoes an inch from the hem of my gown. He slowly moves one hand to my hip, the other on my nape blocking out the crowd, as he leans into me. I close my eyes expecting his lips to touch mine for the first time. There’s barely a brush as they land on the corner, pressing into my cheek. To everyone else it looks like a normal first kiss, but disappointment fills me that it isn’t. Maintaining the facade because he hasn’t actually done anything wrong, I play the part as we turn and hide my emotions.

I should be happy, ecstatic, that he didn’t kiss me. Vlad hasn’t ever kissed me or even touched me fully. There’s always a barrier, even when I was naked and covered in blood his hand didn’t go between my legs. If I’ve been getting out of the shower his eyes don’t dip from my face. But he gets hard, and he made me come without actually touching me. I’m going to fucking hell for my thoughts in a church.

I focus on the guests as we walk down the aisle with our hands clasped, and anger chases away any other emotion. My mother is sat front and fucking center in a white dress. It’s lace and silk, like a wedding dress. For some fucked-up reason, I thought she wouldn’t do that shit. That, for once in her life, she would act correctly. Turning to look at the other side, I want to laugh as Anika is dressed nearly identical. They’re like the same person minus the promiscuity I witnessed on their last visit and Vlad tightens his hold on my hand to get me to move at a normal pace again.

Getting in the waiting car, he puts the privacy screen up straight away and pulls me closer, whispering in my ear.

“What’s wrong?”

Shaking my head because they aren’t worth my time, the violence comes out promising murder in my name.

“You’re a Vartanova now, under my protection and responsibility. Speak, meelaya.”

I sound immature, not liking that someone wore the same color dress as me, but he relaxes and straightens my veil.

“It’s rude to wear white to a wedding, and they both did it. It’s not even like they’re party dresses. They look like bridalwear with lace and silk.”

He raises one brow and waits for the rest. My whisper is barely audible, not wanting to admit it fully.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?”

I stare at the privacy screen instead of his stupid face. It reflects the image back of a picture-perfect bride and groom. Physically he is perfection, and he even has a flower pinned to his suit. His hand moves, coming to my jaw, and he tilts my face up. His voice is low, directly in my ear.

“Because I wouldn’t have stopped.”

Everything inside of me pauses at the husky declaration, my brain stops working, and I nod like an idiot as though it makes sense.

He kisses my cheek, his lips lingering, and my brain shuts down at his declaration.

“Moya zhena vyglyadela ochen? bozhestvenno.”

Being called beautiful is nothing compared to divine, add in calling me his wife and we’ve both been body snatched. Pinching Vlad’s thigh to see if it’s really him, I dig my nails into his skin to cause extra discomfort. His hand wraps around my wrist instantly and I’m even more fucking confused. He’s not a different person with the roughness coming back, but there’s no threat, and he’s being nice in his own devilish way.

The car comes to a stop, and he gets out first, following the etiquette to open my door for me. He even holds his hand out to me, and I hate the gloves stopping me feeling him fully as I take it. He’s gentle as he waits for me to battle the gown and he even straightens out the skirt of it once I’m stood beside him. But he doesn’t keep hold of my hand and puts his hand on my lower back under my veil. He makes three circles with his thumb before gently tapping against my spine as we walk into the ballroom to the guests that are already waiting. I don’t hear people’s congratulations or feel their lips touch my cheeks as he continues making the same pattern.

My body turns cold seeing Pavel head towards us and Vlad curls his hand around my hip protectively. I don’t know if he’s told Valentin and Vitali the little pieces of information I’ve given him, but they become a protective barrier around me. Even Viktor stands in front of me like it’s been orchestrated and Pavel backs away under the threat of all four Vartanovs.

Or five, I’m one too.