It’s done.
Lia is now my wife, bound to me for life, whether she likes it or not.
If I wasn’t so pressed for time, I would’ve done this under different circumstances, after her leg was healed. It would’ve happened anyway, but my methods could’ve been gentler.
However, not only did she fall pregnant sooner than I expected, but I also finally have an alliance with Lazlo Luciano without having to get her involved.
I planned it for weeks on end, creating the perfect circumstances so I’d somehow end up in the same club as Lazlo during a meeting with one of the other Italian families, the Rozettis.
I had to make Yan into an assassin, have him kill one of the other Italians to save Lazlo, who’s always been at the crux of territorial wars. Even though the Lucianos have been ruling with an iron fist, they have a bloody history with the Rozettis, so it wasn’t a first that one of them would try to kill him.
By killing one of their capos and saving Lazlo’s life, I assured myself a direct line to the Don of the Lucianos. One he confirmed when he invited me to his house over a phone call.
Today has been productive.
My gaze flits to Lia, who’s sitting beside me in the car. She stopped pleading and trying to escape her fate, the desperation replaced by quietness. Maybe tying the knot has made her realize that there’s no way out for her.
Though I doubt she’ll accept it that so easily. She’s never really gotten used to having me in her life, and now, I’ve taken it a step further. But as I said, she’ll have all the time in the world to process it. After she’s safe from everyone—aside from me.
I take my time observing her as the lights outside reflect off her soft features. Her hands lie limply on her lap. They’re as delicate as the rest of her—breakable, even.
Just like her leg.
When her dream shattered in front of her, I felt a twisting in my gut. One I haven’t experienced since Aunt Annika’s death. I wanted to shield her from the world and everyone in it, and I knew that the only way to do that would be to bring her under my protection—officially.
She’d become a target, too, but as long as she’s in my sights at all times, I’ll be able to take care of her. Because there’s no way in fuck anyone is taking her away from me.
I may not be able to fully grasp the extent of my obsession with her, but the need to protect her and own every inch of her is a raging, insatiable beast.
Lia is still that delicate flower. However, there’s always been a simmering strength behind her apparent fragility. An inner energy humming under the surface, waiting for a chance to burst free. I’ve felt it when she’s underneath me while I’m fucking her, and also during her nightmares.
She bottles things up until they eventually explode, whether in the form of passion or bad dreams, no one knows.
The dress is a perfect fit, hugging her soft curves and enhancing her elegance. This look is probably my favorite of hers, not only because of the wedding dress, but also because of what it signifies.
She’s my bride.
My wife.
Fucking mine.
A dark sense of obsession takes hold of me, urging me to rip off that dress and sink inside her tight heat.
It takes everything in me to stop such thoughts and focus on what’s left to do tonight.
“This isn’t the way to my apartment,” she says meekly, her voice quiet.
“We’re not going back to your apartment. Ever.”
“What?”
“The lease is ending in a month, anyway. Besides, as my wife, you’ll live in my house.”
Her hands ball into fists. “When were you going to inform me of such facts?”
“I just did.”
Her sharp glare cuts to me like a double-edged sword. “What if I said I don’t want to leave my apartment?”
“Then you’d be lying, and I told you not to do that. You’ve been suffocating in there for the past couple of weeks, getting more depressed by the day because it reminds you of ballet.”
“And your house will be the magical solution?”
“Probably. It’s also better secured.” And I can leave her without obsessively watching the cameras and splitting up my guards all over the place to keep her safe.
Her lips purse as if she wants to argue more but thinks better of it. “I want my things from my apartment.”
“They will be in my house tomorrow.”
“Why can’t we go now?”
“Because we have somewhere else to be.”
A delicate frown creases her features. “We’re not going to your house?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“You need to pay respects to my Pakhan first.”
Her face pales and her throat bobs with a gentle swallow as her voice lowers. “Do I have to?”
“Yes. We already got married without his presence and we can’t forgo this step. You don’t have to talk. Just kiss his hand when he offers it—that’s all.”
“Does this mean I’ll be part of your organization now?” She sounds spooked—terrified, even—but what she doesn’t understand is that her taking this step was merely a matter of time. It would’ve happened anyway, and the sooner she accepts it, the better.
“You’re part of me, Lia. That’s all you need to worry about.”
Her lips part as if to say something, but she purses them again and stares out the window until we reach Sergei’s house.
I help her out, then lift her in my arms when she struggles with her long dress and the crutch. I expect her to fight, but she doesn’t, her tiny body remains inert against mine as I carry her inside.
Only Kolya follows us in as Sergei’s guards nod at my entering. Lia watches her surroundings like a cornered animal searching for an escape, her brow creasing deeper the farther I stride up the stairs and down the hall.
While her arms are around my neck, her attention is elsewhere. I will have to deal with her attempts to pull away from me whether in body or in mind later.
I put her to her feet a few steps away from Sergei’s office, and Kolya hands her the crutch. Before I can say anything, the door opens and Vladimir steps outside.
He pauses at the sight of us and runs his gaze over Lia in a mechanical observation. Even though there’s no other intent behind it, I’m tempted to poke his eyes out.
Lia steps into my side and I relish in the fact that she’s chosen me as protection. In her eyes, Vladimir is a bulky bearded man with a permanent scowl, who appears as if he’s ready to murder everyone in his path.
Since I’ve known him for many years, I don’t see him as a threat. However, this is Lia’s first encounter with him, and the initial impression people usually have of Vladimir is that he’s deadly, probably the most dangerous-looking among the elite.
“Is this why you asked for a meeting with Sergei?” he asks in Russian.
“Yes, but I don’t see why you should be here,” I answer in the same language.
“I came for other matters.” He stares at Lia one last time, then shakes his head and leaves.
I take Lia’s frigid hand in mine and lead her to the door. “Not a word,” I remind her before I knock.
“Come in,” Sergei says in Russian.
I push the door open and she hobbles on her crutch, following me.
We stop in the middle of Sergei’s grandiose study which was originally his brother’s, the late Pakhan, Nikolai. He hasn’t changed a thing about it, as if he’s keeping Nikolai’s memory alive through the grim decor and the countless book editions in Russian.
Sergei is sitting in the lounge area with Igor across from him. I called him over, too, because he needs to see this for himself.
After I broke off the engagement with his daughter, Igor demanded my punishment from the Pakhan, but since I’m Sergei’s ‘golden boy,’ as Kirill likes to call me, he gave me a chance to explain myself.
I prefer action over words.
Igor’s features contort with obvious displeasure as he studies Lia in her wedding dress and the bands around each of our fingers.
She remains in place, but her features pale when she recognizes him.
“I thought you didn’t know her?” Igor doesn’t hide his accusatory tone as he speaks in accented English.
Lia’s fingers stiffen in mine.
“I didn’t,” I lie. “We had a one-night stand.”
I can sense Lia peeking at me, but thankfully, she keeps her words to herself. Any misstep in front of these men and everything will be over. It doesn’t matter that I put a baby in her or married her. Any show of disrespect, and they will take that baby and kill Lia.
“How dare you?” Igor slams his glass of vodka on the coffee table.
“Kristina said it was fine if I had any mistresses at the time,” I say. “You can confirm that with her if you like.”
“So what, Volkov?” Sergei’s critical gaze slides to Lia, measuring her up like she’s a maid he doesn’t approve of. “You chose to marry your one-night stand instead of Igor’s daughter. Is this your explanation?”
I can tell when Sergei gets angry. He turns eerily calm, like right now. That’s the difference between him and Nikolai. The late Pakhan would go on a killing rampage, but his younger brother will kill you with silence.
His point is logical. Sergei is taking offense on behalf of Igor, whom he hasn’t only known for the past forty years, but is also the closest of friends with in the brotherhood.
“No,” I speak in my signature composed, even tone. “I married her because she’s expecting my heir.”
Both of their gazes flit to her stomach, as if they can see a child there and question him about his origins. The attention causes Lia to squirm, so I retrieve the envelope from my jacket and hand it to Sergei. The sooner we’re done with this, the faster I can get her out of here.
The Pakhan places his drink on the table and studies the sonogram and the doctor’s report, then sighs. “Is this truly yours?”
“Why would I even give her the time of day if it wasn’t?” Lia flinches as if I’ve slapped her across the face.
I struggle to keep my cool. I don’t want her to think she’s nothing to me, but if she believes it, so will they.
And I fucking need to get her off their radar. It won’t be easy, considering the position I hold in the brotherhood, but if they think she’s only here because of the child, they won’t have any expectations of her and I can keep her safe from this life. Even if it’s only partially.
“I didn’t want to disrespect Kristina by forcing her to raise a child that isn’t hers, Igor,” I tell him. “She deserves better than that.”
He takes a swig of his drink, refusing to answer me, but both he and Sergei know my views on raising a bastard child. I lived it and would never, under no fucking circumstances, put my son or daughter through that fate.
“At least Kristina is Russian.” Sergei doesn’t hide the disregard from his voice. “This one looks American.”
“Don’t worry, Pakhan. My child will be brought up the Russian way.”
“That goes without saying.” He studies her crutch. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I broke my leg,” she says with a clear voice.
I tighten my hold on her hand so she’ll stop talking. She really doesn’t want to attract their attention—at all.
Sergei raises a brow. “So you do have a voice. We went out of our way to speak English for you, and you’re only now delighting us with your words.”
“Adrian said it’s better not to speak, but I dislike being talked about as if I’m not in the room.”
Fuck me.
The strength that’s always lurking inside her bursts out, and even though her fingers are trembling in mine, betraying her fear of the two Bratva leaders, she still holds her spine upright and stares at them head-on.
I really need to keep her contact with the brotherhood to a minimum. I’ve seen that look before, the determination and stubbornness in a world filled with men.
My mother had it as soon as she got rid of Aunt Annika and married my father.
There was greed, too.
But her ambition was snuffed out before she could do anything. Anyone who challenges the Pakhan is sentenced to death, no matter who they are.
“I see Adrian has a lot to teach you,” Sergei says in a grim tone. “She’s better when mute.”
Lia opens her mouth, probably throw a retort, but I squeeze her fingers until she winces.
“Will do, Pakhan.”
He nods me away, and I nudge her so she hobbles in front of me as we leave the office.
Time to teach my bride her first lesson.
