Page 8 of The Pakhan's Arranged Bride
I follow Jadon down stairs and across the road from the hotel. There is a gorgeous old church, a beautiful building, one of the few non-commercialized churches left in Las Vegas. Not a single Elvis in sight, thank goodness.
The church is full. Allies and friends and business partners line the rows of seats, waiting to witness my fiancée and me say our vows.
My mother and sister are in the front row on my right. My mother smiling, but still annoyed that I’m marrying my chosen bride instead of hers.
Belle is grinning at me. I wink at her and she scrunches her nose. She’s been begging me to tell her about my fiancée, but I couldn’t; I don’t know anything about Ulyana. So I told her it was a surprise, and she will meet her today.
Jadon stands behind me, his arms folded. I shove one hand into my pocket and notice how hard I’m clenching my jaw.
Nestor walks in, smiling, but clearly still on the fence about this situation. I nod in greeting to him and he takes a seat. His mother comes in next; looking excited, she sits next to her son. They both watch me with curiosity. I throw a bold, confident smile towards her mother. If you win their mothers over, it makes your life a lot easier.
The music starts and I push my shoulders back as my heart flips with nervousness. The guests stand, the church doors open. My chest is tight. I flex my fists and lift my chin, waiting to see her.
Ulyana steps onto the red carpet leading towards me and my jaw drops.
Her dress is simple, no lace, no glitter, no diamonds—just a simple, fitted dress that sits tight around her breasts and waist and flows out wide over her curved hips. Pure, white silk, smooth as it contours her body.
The thin, elegant straps show off her long neck and delicate collarbones. A soft veil covers her face, but it’s sheer, and as she walks towards me, her beauty has me mesmerized to the point I can’t string a single thought together.
She comes to a stop in front of me, and I can’t move.
I’m spellbound.
She whispers, “You can lift my veil.”
I clear my throat, mildly embarrassed as I step towards her, taking the edges of the delicate fabric and lifting it, pulling it back over her head to float around her shoulders.
Fuck me.
Who the hell created such an impossibly beautiful creature?
Every shred of tension and nervousness disappears.
She is even more beautiful than what I thought I saw on the video call.
“We are gathered here today…”
The priest begins the ceremony, and I’m standing here smirking at her, my eyes exploring every inch of her beautiful face, down her body, up again. I can’t believe I got this lucky.
She narrows her eyes and stares at me, confident, with a hint of challenge in her soft smile.
“You may now kiss your bride,” the priest says, and I don’t waste a second wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her close.
Our lips touch, and my heart leaps; I press my mouth harder over hers and she politely pulls back.
Nothing anyone else would have noticed, but it bothers me.
I want more. I want everything. She is my wife now. She belongs to me.
That was a flicker of a taste of her. It only served to tease me.
I clench my jaw and smile as we walk arm in arm out of the church, my head is spinning, my lips still brushed with a touch of hers.
The wedding planner has us pose in the church for a few photographs, then ushers us into a car. We have an hour set aside for couple photos—very important for the media release—and then the reception will be hosted back in my hotel across the way.
Our guests will be waiting there, entertained by dancers, appetizers and drinks.
Ulyana is a representation of elegance and beauty as we are guided through our photos together, using the colorful lights of Las Vegas as our backdrop.
