Page 96 of Devil's Vows
“But Ivan has tattoos?” Which he hides.For my eyes only.
“Uh huh. You saw them? He’s hot, isn’t he?” she says, cheeky tease in her tone, without a doubt trying to lighten the atmosphere.
“But they don’t mean the same, do they? Because they’re not the same as the finger ones?”
She hitches a brow with a small smile. “You should ask him. It would be a great way to break the ice tonight.” Concern floods her eyes as she reaches for my hand. “You’re not scared, are you? You’re a virgin, no? Oh, God, I’m not thinking. It’s going to be your first time…or? No wonder you’re a wreck.”
I bark a nervous chuckle. Let her think that’s my biggest worry right now, but it’s been the last thing on my mind. I’m sitting on a giant hurdle I have to cross before it comes to that. “I’m not scared.”
“Good.Good. Ivan will take care of you, or I’ll skin him alive.”
“Big words from a woman who is marrying a man she’s never seen or spoken to before.”
“I can handle your brother,” she says with a smirk as she picks up the eyeshadow again, bringing me back to the business of getting married in a couple of hours. “He isn’t touching me with a ten-foot pole. Unless I want him to. In any case, nothing a man can do can surprise me anymore.”
Her trauma and my trauma seem to slowly weave together, but a pile of secrets stops us from really getting close. What’s it going to take for us to really open up to each other?
48
IVAN
I pivoted a hundred times with this wedding. I’m still skittish, and even with my new-found alliance, the trust isn’t there yet. It’s going to take time forIl Consiglioand the Petrov Bratva to be comfortable around each other, and in the end, I laid down the rules to minimize risks for both sides.
What the women don’t know is that we’ll be helicoptered out to a neutral setting in Montauk. I’ve booked three luxury houses currently on the market for the day just to keep everybody guessing. It’s extreme, but fuck it, money isn’t the issue—security is. I need to control this. Nobody needs fiddling with the wedding venue before our arrival, and as much asIl Consigliocan sway power with their dollars, they need to understand we’re on equal footing. I can throw money at any problem, but money can’t replace people.
Now I’m all dressed up in a suit, the girls are running around in little white dresses, already with a grubby marks, and outside, the helicopter’s noisy rotors are signaling its arrival. In an hour, we’ll be married, and the deal sealed.
I wait for Gabriella in the foyer, holding her bouquet. None of this is by the book, but who the fuck cares. I just want to bedone now so I can have her in my arms. I check the time again. When I knocked and poked my head into Milana’s room half an hour ago, she was still in her robe, Milana doing the final touch-ups to her hair. My sister shooed me out, grumbling that it’s bad luck or something to see the bride before the wedding.
Well, at leastshewon’t be fucked. Milana didn’t even insist on a phone call with Luca Scalera before the wedding—that’s how desperate she is to get out.
We’ve kept the numbers equal and to the minimum required to make these marriages legal. Three on each side, the couples and one witness each. I’m not messing around with this. I have Yuri, and Luca Scalera is bringing only Matteo, their Don. Then there are my girls, too excited to realize this is weird.
Down the corridor, a door opens and closes. Soft voices travel over, but I can’t decipher what they’re saying. The women are done. I’m holding my breath, because while this might be my second time, I am planning to treat Gabriella like the queen she’s becoming in my life. The queen my first wife could never be for problems of her own making.
Milana comes first into view, and I have to double-take. Earlier, I didn’t pay attention to what she was wearing, too focused on Gabriella. Now I cringe but sigh in relief, too. This isn’t the woman who was slowly fading away in front of me for weeks. She’s still delicate, but she’s by magic returned color to her face with makeup. The dress makes her look like a model on the runway. The color might be a problem, but I’m beyond caring. Let her rebel in her own way.
But Gabriella?—
By breath catches. She’s gorgeous. Her white dress is simple, with a wide band around her waist, accentuating the fall of the full skirt. Her arms are bare, but the shoulder straps are wide, and the bodice high enough to only hint at her cleavage. It’s virginal temptation in the perfect package. She’s playing me, knowing how to bait me with her innocence.
As she walks down the corridor, I already see her walking down the aisle to me. I take in her hair, gathered in gentle waves from her face, a few little flowers scattered as if in a field. This is what Milana was busy with when I interrupted them.
I reach for her hand, taking a few steps up to her, wanting to touch her already, wanting to kiss her, but her fingers tremble in mine, and she averts her gaze, turning her face away.
Soon, moya ptichka. Soon.
“There’s a helicopter?” Milana says, slicing through the tension. “Can’t stick to a plan, can you, Ivan?”
“Nope. And you know why,” I tell her as I guide my bride-to-be outside to the massive patch of lawn that’s always served as a helipad.
Yuri is in control of the girls and has them each by the hand, pink daisies losing petals like confetti along the way. For now, the rotors have stopped, allowing us to ascend the helicopter without issue. I help Milana in, then Gabriella, taking turns to hold their flowers and giving them a steadying hand.
When I take my seat, I glance at Gabriella where she’s fumbling with the harness. Fuck it. Didn’t think about the dress and the flowers and the bridal hair and headsets when I arranged this.
“Here,” I say, leaning in to help her.
“I’ve never done this before,” she whispers, fingers fumbling.
