Page 40 of Bound Vows
My stomach drops to my stilettos at the mention of Max’s arrival. Seeing him at this ceremony will either provide comfort or make everything exponentially worse, depending on what he’s planning. “How does my brother seem?”
“It’s difficult to say. He’s positioned himself near the exit with clear sightlines to the altar. Vincent has kept his hand near his jacket pocket since he arrived, though our security has already identified and noted every weapon on the property. We asked for none, but we understand that your brothers will expect… certain privileges. We’re willing to abide so long as they keep them holstered.”
I take a steadying breath while the stylists make final adjustments to my veil. “Anything else I should know about the guest list?”
“Frankie Benedetti brought his entire family, including the grandchildren you charmed at dinner. I’m sure they won’t recognize you outside of your disguise. The Torrino organization sent its new leadership after the recent… restructuring. Chicago and Philadelphia families are represented, along with several Russian organizations that have pledged loyalty to your husband.”
The way she says “your husband” makes my skin crawl, but I swallow it down. Today requires the performance of my life, and showing weakness now could endanger everyone I care about.
I stand and let the stylists arrange my train. “Magnificent. A gathering of killers and criminals to witness my matrimonial sacrifice. Shall we proceed to the slaughter?”
“The ceremony,” Katarina corrects icily. “This is your wedding day, Maya. Try to look happy.”
“I’ll try to contain my overwhelming joy.”
The walk from the bridal suite to the estate’s formal gardens feels like a funeral march, though the setting is undeniably beautiful. White roses and lilies create elegant arrangements throughout the area, and string lights suspended between ancient oak trees provide romantic ambiance that would be perfect if this were a love story instead of a criminal power grab.
Two hundred guests rise as the processional music begins, and I catch sight of faces I recognize from surveillance photos and other gatherings. These are the most dangerous people in organized crime, and they’re all here to witness my transformation from Mastroni princess to Volkov bride.
Max stands near the back with Vincent at his side, and the rage in my brother’s eyes fills my chest with dread. My brother-in-law looks equally dangerous, though he maintains better control over his emotions.
“Beautiful ceremony,” Vincent comments as I pass their row, though he makes no effort to smile.
“Thank you for coming,” I reply, maintaining my forward momentum. “Your presence means everything.”
Max says nothing, but his stare burns into my back as I continue toward the altar where Andrei waits in a black tuxedo that makes him look like a prince from some dark fairytale. Father Bianchi stands beside him with a leather-bound Bible, ready to perform the ceremony that will legally bind me to my captor.
“You look stunning, Piccola,” Andrei breathes as I take my place beside him. “Though I can see the murder in your eyes behind that beautiful smile.”
“Just practicing for the honeymoon,” I reply sweetly while Father Bianchi begins the traditional ceremony.
The priest’s voice carries across the garden as he speaks about love, commitment, and the sacred nature of marriage. Every word feels like mockery, but I keep up the performance while internally counting the exits and assessing which guests might be sympathetic to my situation.
“Do you, Andrei Volkov, take Maya Mastroni to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, until death do you part?”
“I do.” Andrei’s voice carries conviction as he slides a platinum wedding band onto my finger. The ring is beautiful and looks as though it costs a fortune, but it feels like a shackle.
“Do you, Maya Mastroni, take Andrei Volkov to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, until death do you part?”
I look into Andrei’s eyes and see satisfaction blending with a backend affection I catch there every so often. The man I should hate but also can’t seem to stop wanting smirks at me, waiting for my response.
“I do,” I choke out before slipping his wedding ring into place.
“By the power vested in me by God and the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Father Bianchi closes his Bible and smiles at us. “You may kiss the bride.”
Andrei frames my face with his hands and kisses me with surprising gentleness, though the gesture is as much about claiming ownership as expressing sentiment. When we breakapart, applause erupts from the assembled guests who’ve just witnessed the political marriage of the century.
“Mrs. Volkov,” Andrei muses against my ear, and his voice carries a possessive edge that makes my stomach flutter despite my resentment.
“Mr. Volkov,” I reply, maintaining my smile for the photographers who capture every moment. “I hope you’re prepared for everything that comes with being my husband.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
As we turn to face our guests, I catch Max’s eye across the garden and see him nod once in what might be approval or acknowledgment. Whatever he’s planning, my brother has just watched his sister marry the enemy without interfering, which means either he’s accepted defeat or he’s preparing something that requires me to be legally bound to Andrei first.
The receiving line forms quickly as family representatives approach to offer congratulations and assess the new power dynamic this marriage has created. Frankie Benedetti kisses my cheek and whispers something about family loyalty, while the Torrino heir makes vague comments about future cooperation.
“Congratulations, Maya,” Max manages when he reaches us, but I can make out the fury underneath. “You make a beautiful bride.”
