Page 18 of Merciless Union
“Maxim,” Kira says, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around me. “Are you happy?”
I hug her tight. “As happy as I usually am.”
She pulls back, smiling at me. “Arina is nice.” She glances at our mother before lowering her voice. “So please be nice to her.”
I blink, startled by Kira’s words. I’ve been nothing but respectful and a gentleman toward Arina. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
She pats my chest. “Just … don’t be so cold towards her.”
Cold? I may keep my emotions to myself, but I wouldn’t have considered myself cold. I glance at our mother. Maybe it runs in the family.
“All right,” I say, looking around. “Where’s Alexei?”
Mother sighs. “He’s not here.”
“What?” I hiss.
“He’s not here,” she repeats.
“Well, then, where is he?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. That boy is wild. He never listens.”
“Fuck,” I seethe. Kira’s eyes widen, and I soften my tone. “Someone needs to find him. How will it look to my men if my brother doesn’t show up to my wedding?”
She holds up her hands. “I’ll send a guard out to search for him. Hopefully, he’ll arrive soon.”
“He fucking better,” I mutter.
Another knock at the door. This time, it’s the wedding planner. “You should come down soon,” she says.
I nod. “I can’t wait. This marriage needs to happen sooner rather than later.” I look at my mother. “If Alexei shows, just make sure he’s in his place as soon as possible.”
I storm out of the room, following the wedding planner to the wedding hall. My sisters and mother trail after.
I reach the wedding hall. Beyond those doors, I’ll be married. I doubt my life will change very much. Arina will be a useful tool on my arm. Nothing more.
Music begins to play as the doors open, and I walk down the aisle, my mother on my arm. My sisters follow behind. I reach the dais steps, no brother beside me. Where the fuck is Alexei?
My mother and sisters take their seats. The music lowers as all of my guests—over a hundred of them—shift in their seats, waiting for the bride to enter.
I notice Oksana in her seat, looking frail. After Arina told me about her mother’s cancer, I felt bad about judging her. My father liked to get around, and I’d assumed Arina’s mother was no exception. But maybe I was wrong. And I don’t like being wrong.
The music swells again as the doors open, revealing Arina, her father at her side. She’s a striking vision in her sleek wedding gown as her red hair tumbles down her back in soft waves. Even though this marriage is political, I’m still excited to get Arina alone and officially make her mine.
She walks down the aisle with confidence, her head held high. George is beaming next to her.
I hold out my hand once she reaches me, helping her up a couple of steps. George gives me a nod before he takes his seat next to his wife.
Arina meets my gaze head-on—her soft brown eyes make her look like a deer. And I’m the predator who’s about to ravish her.
The officiant reads off the vows as I grip Arina’s hands. She’s not even trembling. A part of me wishes she were more afraid of me. But I’m glad she’s strong. It’ll help her as my wife since all eyes will be on her. All the women in the Bratva will follow her lead. All the men will covet her. And yet, she’ll be mine.
When it comes to say, “I do,” I speak without hesitation.
Arina repeats the words with clarity.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant says. “You may kiss the bride.”
