Page 28 of Sold to the Bratva
She guides me to the garden doors, now closed and curtained for a dramatic entrance. Music drifts down the hallway, mingling with the excited chatter of guests. I don’t even know who’s here, but I resent every last person who showed up to witness my execution.
Maude peeks through the drape, then turns and gives me a thumbs-up. It was showtime. She swings the doors open, and I step to the threshold, finally seeing my wedding venue.
The garden is drenched in soft, glowing sunlight. It was the kind of flawless weather photographers pray for. Golden rays sift through tall hedges, scattering dappled patterns across theaisle. White chairs flank the stone path, and beneath a rose-covered trellis a string quartet plays something soft and hopeful. Everything is pristine, which only makes me want to ruin it.
At Maude’s cue, I start down the aisle alone. No escort, no bouquet. The crowd gasps the moment I round the hedge and step into view. I hear the reaction ripple, starting with one sharp breath, then another, then an inflow of soft whispers of confusion.
Somewhere from the front, Evie catches my eye and winks at me.
My gown is a simple sheath of silk, molded to my curves and flaunting far more cleavage than any wedding planner would sanction. But the color, a striking jet black, is the real showstopper. It’s my final stand, a public declaration that this ceremony feels like a death sentence. Their shock is exactly what I wanted, exactly what I needed.
I keep moving, slow and steady, heels clicking on the stone, silk whispering around my legs like smoke. I nodded and smile at the horrified guests, savoring every flinch of judgment. Let them judge. This wedding is a farce.
When I finally look at Isaac, disappointment punches me. I had hoped for a disastrous fury, for him to take one look and storm off. At the very least I wanted disapproval, but his face showed none of that.
Instead, he’s smiling. Really smiling. It isn’t the thin grin of a man masking anger, it’s genuine and brighter than the sun. His ice-blue eyes dance with delight, as though he expected nothing less from me.
He wears a perfectly cut black tux, hands clasped in front of him. The formal wear makes him even more handsome, and I hatehim for that, almost as much as I hate him for his total lack of shock.
It’s infuriating. He doesn’t get to win this moment. This was my last big move to stop the wedding, and it has completely backfired. The guests may see my act of defiance for what it is, but Isaac looks at me as if I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
My stride falters for half a heartbeat, but I square my shoulders and keep going. He doesn’t get to break me. Maybe I’m wrong and he’s just masking his fury. Maybe the black dress really did rattle him.
Yet the nearer I draw, the happier he looks. Every step feels heavier than the last, and retreat is no longer an option. When I’m close enough, he offers his hand and, without thinking, I take it. The world tilts, and I finally understand that I’m truly about to marry Isaac. There is simply no way out.
11
ISAAC
Katya thinks she’s so clever.
She wore black down the aisle, convinced it would rattle me, invite gasps, sidelong glances, maybe even a muttered curse. It works, though not for the reason she expects. The instant I caught sight of her, lips painted blood-red, eyes blazing, that sinful dress skimming her perfectly shaped body, I know I could stare at her forever.
She’s absolutely breathtaking, and more than that, she’s mine. In a few minutes she’ll belong to me for the rest of our lives. I plan to see her in and, better yet,outof a thousand scandalous dresses.
She stops at the edge of the altar, chin tipped high in challenge, waiting for me to flinch. I don’t flinch. Instead, I give her a slow, steady smile. She needs to learn she can’t shake me. She can tilt the whole world off its axis and I’ll still be here, braced for the quake.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today.” The priest drones through the familiar script, but I can barely hear him over the thunder in my ears.
I smile at the prescribed moments and repeat the words when prompted, but my gaze never leaves Katya. Marrying her is the easiest yes I’ve ever uttered. Despite her countless attempts to sabotage the day, I can make her happy. More than that, Iwantto make her happy.
As we trade vows, I grin like a kid on Christmas morning. Every scheme she hatched to infuriate me only burrowed her deeper under my skin, and not in the way she intended.
I want her like I’ve never wanted anything. I never dreamed I could have this. When the priest pronounces the blessing, I take her trembling hand. She’s terrified, anyone can see it, but I need her to know we’re in this together. I’m not the brute who bought her at auction, no matter what she believes. I care for her. The pull she exerts on me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt, and I’m tired of fighting it.
“By the power vested in me, I hereby declare you husband and wife,” the priest says, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of her face in my vision, of her perfectly plump lips. “You may now kiss your bride.”
I stop fighting the pull, and so does she. The instant my lips graze hers, fireworks detonate behind my eyes. Time stalls and all that exists is the silk of her mouth and the tentative tease of her tongue.
There will be time for more later. With both our families watching, I force myself to pull back and give her space. I’ve waited this long. What are a few more hours?
The reception is a blur of raised glasses and polite smiles. I’m used to being the center of attention, shaking hands with people who’d probably like to see me dead and pretending to know the names of people I’ve never met in my life. Pleasantries are my unfortunate domain. Katya, on the other hand, looks like she’s ready to bolt at any moment.
She plays the part, smiling when required and speaking just enough to keep up appearances, but her restless fingers and quick glances at the garden tell another story. She could slip into the night without much effort, and that wouldn’t help either of us.
I wrap my arm around her waist and lean in close, whispering in her ear.
“Want to get out of here?”
