Page 1 of Stolen By the Don

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ROMAN

“And do you, Isabella Ricci, take this man to be your?—”

The silence that fills the cathedral as I walk through the large, creaking mahogany doors curls my lips into a satisfied smirk. It lasts only a millisecond and is quickly followed by the sound of guns being drawn, but itpleasesme.

“Please, please—” I click my tongue and shake my head, keeping one hand on the gun tucked into my waistband. “Let’s not resort to hostilities now, shall we? I’m only here for one thing.”

I look around at the collective shock on the faces of the attendants, and the angry expressions on the faces of the men with their guns trained on me.

As if they wouldeverget the chance to fire.

“What do you want, Roman Volkov?” someone asks tightly.

Ah, yes. My smirk widens into a face-splitting grin. “I was starting to think my reputation no longer preceded me.” I pause my march down the aisle to give the man my attention.

I note his appearance—a knife wound down the side of his face and across his lip, giving him a perpetual scowl, and the presence of a limp with one leg placed ahead of the other.

Marco Ricci’s hound dog. One of the men who was so unfortunate as to stand in my way when I went looking for the bastard. I should’ve taken the leg from him altogether.

“You know what I want,” I tell him, stepping in his direction. He moves a step back, fear sharply crossing his face. “Where is he?”

He sneers. “You’re making a terrible mistake. You shouldn’t have come here. Do you expect to leave alive?”

“Why not?” I shrug nonchalantly. “I only came here for one thing today. And that is—” My gaze spins toward the altar, where a dark-haired woman with olive skin watches my every move.

Her eyes are the darkest shade of brown I’ve ever seen. Almost black, except for the way they gleam in the lights above her. The man beside her is irrelevant, so I don’t bother sparing him a glance. “Her.” I point. “I’m here to take my bride.”

“Never!” the hound dog spits.

From the corner of my eye, I see him tilt his head, a subtle sign for his men to attack. I lift a finger, and my men—men I carefully planted in the church before the wedding ceremony began—rise from the pews, slipping their hands inside their jackets.

The soft rustle of fabric is nearly drowned out by the sharp metallic clicks of safeties being disengaged. Gasps of horror ripple through the church as many of the guests fall to their knees, hiding underneath the pews.

The other men hesitate for a second, but that second is all I need to know they’re outnumbered. Outmaneuvered.

“See.” My smile fades into a cold, leveling glare. “I told you. You don’t have to resort to hostilities. You allow me to take what’s mine, and I’ll let you give my message to Marco Ricci. Tell him that I intend to marry his daughter and that she will be pregnant with my heir by this time next month.”

His face turns a shade of translucent pale, and I catch the gasp of shock that leaves the bride’s lips before she quickly masks it.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I address the crowd, continuing my walk down the aisle. “I’m not here to disrupt your day. In fact, I’m willing to get things over and done with. Ten minutes,” I say, keeping my eyes trained on Isabella. “That’s all I ask.”

When I get to where she stands, I hold out my hand. The groom, choosing this moment to prove hismasculinity, cuts in front of me. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Move,” I growl. “Now.”

He takes out his gun, pointing it at my forehead. “No. You move. Or else I’ll splatter your brains across the floor. I don’t know what audacity brought you here, but I’m giving you one last chance to get the fuck out.”

A dry laugh escapes me—one full of disbelief and fury. “You must have a death wish, talking to me like that with your hands shaking.”

He takes the bait, looking down at his hand. I react, hitting him squarely in the elbow. The gun clatters to the ground as he winces in pain, and I kick it away, far from his reach.

“Playtime’s over,” I mutter, turning to Isabella again. A fine sheen of sweat gathers on her forehead, but her chin remainstilted.Stubborn,I muse.Good.I didn’t expect her to be anything else.

It only means I’ll have fun breaking her.

I hold out my hand again. “You’re either leaving here on your feet or—” For some reason, she picks the second option, making a break in the other direction. I sigh, watching her skate on her heels for a moment before I catch up to her in long strides.

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