Page 17 of Velvet Chains
George’s jaw clenches, hatred burning in his gaze. But he knows he’s beaten, knows he has no choice.
“I’m…I’m sorry, Laur,” he grits out, the words sounding like they’re being ripped from his throat. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”
Laura nods, her expression unreadable.
George’s jaw clenches, but he knows he’s beaten.
With a final, venomous glare in Laura’s direction, he lets the bodyguards escort him away. As I watch him, I catch a flicker of movement from the corner of my eye. A shadow darting behind the towering marble statue of the Virgin Mary. My instincts flare, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
Who the hell was that?
But before I can investigate further, Ksenia strides up to us, her stilettos clicking against the polished floor. She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow, her lips pursed in disapproval.
“What was that little display of machismo?”
I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “It was hardly machismo, Ksenia. The man was disrespecting my wife. I simply put him in his place.”
Ksenia moves in close, her voice dropping to a low, serious whisper. “Don’t fall for her, little brother.” Her eyes, usually so cool and calculating, hold a glimmer of genuine concern. “She doesn’t belong in our world.”
“I hate weddings,” I mutter, fingers clumsily attacking the tie that’s been a noose around my neck all morning. Behind me, the door shuts with a soft, final click, the sound oddly loud in the silence that follows.
Laura stands a step behind me, her scent teasing me in ways it shouldn’t. My body is ruined, blood soaking into the thick layers of bandages near my shoulder.
“Is that why you planned a mafia operation the night before our wedding?”
Turning to face her, I catch the way her gaze sweeps over the room. Her eyes move like she’s memorizing every detail, every shadow cast by the dim lighting, every plush cushion, and the rich, velvety drapes that frame the windows. This suite, the best the hotel has to offer, boasts a history as deep and complex as our family’s. We’ve owned this place for a century, its walls witness to countless secrets and silent deals.
“Are you worried about me, little firecracker?” I ask, moving closer to her, forgetting the tie that’s suffocating me.
She stands still, gazing into my eyes. Her jade-tinted eyes, flecked with blue, surprise me. I thought she’d be scared, but instead, she just looks at me and replies, “Yes, I was.”
She swallows, her lips pressing together as her gaze travels from my bruised shoulder to my face. Her fingers gently touch my cheek, making me feel something I can’t quite name.
Don’t look at me that way.
I fight the unfamiliar emotions stirring inside me.
She’s just here for a year. Nothing more.
I specifically asked Andrew, my lawyer, to add a clause stating that no emotional involvement shall occur.
But this woman… she’s making me feel weak.
I catch her hand and move it aside, clearing my throat to change the mood. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your side of the bargain.”
“You promise me, Victor,” she says, her tone serious. “You’ll never, ever put Ser and her family in danger.”
I meet her gaze steadily. “I told you, little firecracker, I’m a man of my word. As long as you hold up your end of the deal, your friend and her loved ones are safe.”
Relief washes over Laura’s face, the tension draining from her shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispers, and for a moment, I’m struck by the vulnerability in her eyes.
I nod curtly, uncomfortable with the guilt gnawing at me. Using her best friend to force her into this marriage—it’s a new low, even for me.
Blackmailing an innocent woman, exploiting her love for her friend to trap her—it’s not sitting right, principles or no principles. Bratva life means doing what needs to be done for the family, but this feels different. Dirtier.
Suka!
But first, I need to get this damn jacket off without blacking out. One problem at a time.
