Page 70 of Bratva Prince
She stared at our reflections and smiled warmly, patting my shoulder before she walked away. “I’ll let Willow know you got the tie on correctly,” she said, lightly chuckling.
“Well, if she would’ve let me wear the damn clip-on, she wouldn’t have to send you in to check on me.”
I hated ties. Whenever I wore a suit, I avoided wearing a tie with it. And on the rare occasions I was forced to wear one, I opted for a clip-on. But,no. This is our wedding,so Willow insisted I wore a real one.
Anya laughed, shaking her head. “On this one, I’m taking Willow’s side. Besides, you look handsome with a tie on, and you need to look handsome for your wedding day.”
She closed the door behind her, and just when I assumed I’d have a moment of peace, Misha and Dimitry showed up, pestering me in the way older brothers do.
Dimitry raised his hand to rub it through my hair but I grabbed his wrist. “Do it and you die,” I threatened.
He barked out a laugh and took a seat on the chair. “The last of the Koslov’s to be born, and the last to get married. How are your feet?” he asked, sharing in on a joint joke that him and Misha had going.
“Are they cold?” Misha asked, snickering with Dimitry.
“Shut the fuck up. If you’re not here to help then get the fuck out of my room.”
Misha feigned hurt as Dimitry cackled. “Ouch. A prickly little asshole, isn’t he?”
“Don’t poke the bear,” I warned. straightening my tie for the fifteenth time.
Dimitry stifled his laughter as Misha chimed in, “You mean, don’t poke the Viking.”
They relentlessly teased me about that nickname, but I wore it with pride.
Though they were irritating the shit out of me, I was happy to have them here. Dimitry and Gemma flew in from Brazil just to be here, along with Misha, Mia, and my niece and nephew. All were cooing over the baby.
Aside from owning my own island for us all to stay on, my fantasy had lived out pretty well. Besides, I think I’d had enough island experience to last a lifetime.
“I can’t believe that you’re finally getting married after waiting for an entire year,” Misha said, turning the conversation to a more serious note.
That night after I’d killed Arman, I asked Willow to marry me. Well, begged was more like it, but I was determined to have her as mine, and I didn’t want to wait any longer. She agreed, but wanted to wait until after the baby was born so we could get to know each other better.
Though, I always teased her that she didn’t want to take wedding pictures with a big, pregnant belly.
“Willow wanted to wait,” I answered with a shrug.
“Ah, and like any married man, she has his balls in a vice.”
The two cackled some more, but I simply rolled my eyes and fixed up the final touches of my attire.
Turning around, I stretched my arms wide in display. “How do I look?”
“Like a bastard who’s excited to get married,” Dimitry answered.
* * *
The ceremony was perfect—notoutrageous or over the top, but beautiful and sweet. The touch was subtle and pure, with only our closest friends and family present.
The reception, on the other hand, was a bit rowdier. But what does one expect when they throw a bunch of Russian men into a room with vodka? We didn’t get too out of hand, though, and our security was keeping a tight reign over the place.
Willow rested her head against my shoulder as we danced like we were the only two people who existed in the room.
Though I knew we weren’t. I could hear Viktor squealing over Timur, fighting with Anya over who would hold him. “You hold him every day. I don’t,” Viktor whined. Little did he know, he had to get past Misha’s and Dimitry’s families to hold him.Good luck with that.
It was all so endearing, and I could see from Willow's glossy eyes that the entire night had touched her heart, in many ways healing her from the torment of the past.
Misha and Dimitry stood in the corner, their faces pulled into a frown as they glanced over at me. Misha shook his head but Dimitry was walking closer.
