Page 66 of Married to the Don (Kornilov Bratva Duet 1)

Staring out at the sun sinking down behind the skyline, I’m not sure I have much of a future anymore.

* * *

I walk upstairs alone.

I try to get to my bedroom, but the emotion of the last ten minutes seems to wash over me all at once, and I have to fall back against the wall to keep my knees from buckling.

I’m married.

I’m a married woman.

I am Molly Kornilov.

The minister Viktor brought with him was clearly a hobbyist. There is no way he had ever done a wedding before. He stumbled through the words of a ceremony he printed out from the web, and Viktor spent half of the process circling his finger, trying to get the man to get on with it.

Because there was no sense in waxing poetic about love when we are not in love. There was no sense in telling us to cherish one another when we haven’t even spoken in days. The minister would have been better served by making us promise not to kill one another. Because truthfully, I was less afraid Viktor would kill me when we weren’t married. Now that we are, he could take out a hefty life insurance policy on my head and have me done away with. He has told me more than enough times that he can do what he likes in this city.

“Marinating in marital bliss?”

I start at Viktor’s voice and jump away from the wall hastily.

Viktor continues like he doesn’t notice my fear and holds out a flute of champagne. “To celebrate.”

I take the glass with a shaky hand and tap it against his, but rather than a toast of celebration, it feels like an alcoholic send-off for my old life. As such, once I bring the glass to my lips, I can’t seem to pull it away until the champagne is gone. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“That seems like a good sign,” Viktor says sarcastically, taking my glass and setting it on a built-in bookshelf behind him.

“My drinking is not going to be what dooms this relationship.” Relationship feels like such a heavy word for what Viktor and I are to one another.

What are we, anyway?

Viktor tosses back the rest of his drink, adding to what I know he already drank earlier in the afternoon. His cheeks are a bit pinker than normal, but he doesn’t stumble as he takes a small step towards me. “What will be the reason, then?”

“Most likely?” I ask, screwing up my face in deep concentration. “Murder.”

Viktor laughs, surprising us both, and with his white teeth sparkling, I can’t help the way my heart leaps.

Our eyes meet, and his smile slips away like a wave being pulled back to sea. I want it to stay because things feel easier when he’s smiling, but the emotion is lost to the depths of him. A flicker of happiness in the unknowable, churning chaos that is Viktor Kornilov.

He takes a deep breath and moves towards me another step. “The justice of the peace is gone. Everyone is gone. The house is empty.”

“But the guards—” I start to say.

Viktor shakes his head. “Gone.”

We’re alone.

I’ve been alone with Viktor many times now. But this feels different. Vulnerable.

“Theo will be back soon, so—” I try to move past Viktor and go into Theo’s room.

“He’s staying with the nanny and a few guards until after dinner. He won’t be back for hours. I just called and arranged it.”

“We’re married for less than an hour and you’re already overstepping your boundaries with my son,” I say. “Because he’s still my son, Viktor.”

“I know,” he says, holding up his hands in a placating manner. “I don’t mean to overstep, but considering the circumstances, I took a few liberties. I can call it off and have him brought back here immediately if you wish. But if I do, you won’t know the reason why I’ve sent everyone away.”

I can’t say my curiosity isn’t piqued. I wish it wasn’t. I wish I could just be angry with him. Being angry with Viktor is so much easier.

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