Page 16 of Paved in Hate

“You’re not the first man to say that and have it turn out to be a lie,” I say before I can think better of it.

“I’m not lying, and when I give my word, I mean it, Katya.”

Hearing him say my name feels both intimate and foreign. This whole moment is so surreal. This man standing right in front of me is my husband, and I’ve never even held his damn hand. I don’t know anything about him except that he’s gorgeous and deadly and quite possibly as sadistic as my brothers.

“You are safe with me,” he repeats.

If he’s expecting me to cry in relief, he’s going to be waiting a while. I’ve heard my brothers promise shit like this more times than I can count. Words are nothing more than words. They don’t mean shit. They’re just another way to manipulate people into doing what you want. When I don’t say anything, he sighs and is just about to say something when we hear Konstantin yell my name. I swear I see a flash of anger in those whiskey-colored eyes before he hides it and steps away from me so he can open the door.

“She’s in here,” he tells my brother. “I was just helping her fix her veil.”

Konstantin laughs like he thinks that’s code forI just fucked your sister in the bathroomand says, “Well, as soon as you get her presentable, supper is ready.”

“We’ll be right there,” Vitaly tells him, shutting the door again.

He waits for me to take another couple of breaths as I get myself under control so I can go back out there and face everyone as we sit through a meal. When I’m as ready as I’ll ever be, I give him a nod before he opens the door. He surprises me by offering me his arm. I take it, keeping my touch light on his as we walk down the hall and back through the open French doors. The guests are all seated at the tables that have been placed on the lawn under a giant, white tent, and there are so many faces that I don’t recognize interspersed with my brother’s men. It looks like the assigned seating had a purpose behind it. Forced socialization between the Bratva families. I’m sure they’ll all be besties by the time dessert is brought out.

Vitaly leads me to the table that’s front and center and reserved for the wedding party. The three women I met earlier are sitting next to their husbands, along with the man who’d been standing behind Vitaly during the ceremony. My two brothers are also already sitting with Oksana between them. Vitaly pulls a seat out for me and once I’m seated, he takes the chair on my right.

“Katya, I’d like you to meet my brothers,” he says, and then points at the man sitting next to Emily. He goes down the line, introducing each brother and reintroducing their wives. They smile at me, and I do my best to return it. The last man, Matvey, is by himself, and his smile isn’t nearly as big as the others. His eyes are so dark they look black, but there isn’t anything cruel in his look. He seems sad more than anything else, and I have no idea what to make of the Melnikov brothers. When Konstantin taps a fork against his champagne flute, everyone’s attention is pulled to him. My oldest brother stands and gives the same boyish, disarming smile he’s always given when he wants to appear human and put people at ease.

“I just want to make a quick toast to my beautiful sister and the man we’re thrilled to welcome into our family. Vitaly, take good care of my sister. She means the world to us,” he says, and I almost bark out a laugh from pure shock before he continues. “Osip and I are looking forward to working with you and your brothers in the coming years.” Giving a soft laugh, he adds, “I have a feeling it’s going to be very profitable for both our families.”

He smiles down at us, and I use all my years of pretending everything is fine to make my face a blank mask that would give Oksana a run for her money when she’s successfully snorted herself off to a happier place. I smile and raise my glass in a toast, drinking to a future I didn’t ask for and I sure as hell never wanted.

The guests smile and cheer and shout out their congratulations, and it’s absolutely fitting that a bunch of murdering, sex-trafficking assholes are toasting my forced nuptials. I down the champagne, hoping it’ll dull me enough to get through the next few hours. I smile as best I can, take drinks whenever a toast is given, and force my dry throat to swallow the food in front of me. By the time the wedding cake is brought out, I’m not sure how much more I can take.

My brothers are dead set on continuing the façade, so I bite back my groan when they insist Vitaly and I cut the cake together. The photographer that’s been hovering around on the outskirts starts clicking away again while I paste my smile on and follow my husband to the table that’s been set up.

He grabs the knife and looks over at me, raising a dark brow. “I think we’re supposed to do this part together.”

Reaching out, I place my hand on top of the tattooed one holding the large knife. I keep it there while he cuts the first slice. I pull my hand back when he’s finished, but I keep standing next to him. Thankfully, Konstantin seems content with that and doesn’t insist we feed one another. While the servers start cutting the rest and delivering it to the waiting guests, I stay where I’m at. Even with the heaters that have been set up, it’s still chilly, and when I start to shiver, Vitaly looks down at me, immediately noticing.

When he starts to remove his suit jacket, I quickly say, “It’s okay. You don’t have to do that.”

“You’re cold.”

It’s all he says, like that’s explanation enough, and within seconds his jacket is draped over my shoulders and I’m cocooned in his warmth. His body heat and cologne surround me, and I want to hate it, but it’s oddly reassuring. No one’s ever lent me a jacket because I’m cold, and I know he’s probably only doing it out of habit or to put me at ease so I don’t start crying and ruining the nice charade we have going on, but it’s still nice, and I still appreciate it. I’m not stupid enough to think this means he’s a nice guy, but it at least means he doesn’t want me to stand here freezing, and that has to count for something.

“Thanks,” I say, slipping my arms in the sleeves and pulling it closed across my chest.

He nods and leads me back to the table. After another hour that feels like it lasts an eternity, Roman looks at his wife, noticing the yawn she tries to hide. He kisses her forehead and looks over at Vitaly.

“I need to get her home. I think all the excitement has worn her out.”

“Same here,” Danil says and then turns to smile at Konstantin. “I don’t know how you managed to put all this together so quickly, but I’m glad you did. Let me know when you’re free to go over a few things.”

Konstantin laughs. “Always thinking about work,” he says with a small nod of approval. “I’m the same way. I’ll be in touch soon. I see no reason to wait.” He looks over at Vitaly, his smile growing. “I imagine the happy couple will be indisposed for a few days, but I’m ready to talk business when you are.”

“We can start anytime,” Vitaly says. “Like you, I see no reason to wait.”

His callous dismissal of our early marriage bonding does not bode well. Although, I guess it’s to be expected, and it’s probably for the best. I’ve never had a fairytale idea of marriage, and being a wife isn’t going to change that. It would be nice to have some idea of the man I’m married to, though. I was hoping for at least a polite conversation before I’m expected to get naked and spread my legs.

Konstantin studies Vitaly for a second before letting out another laugh and giving a shrug. “Sure. Give me a call tomorrow then. We can set up a time to meet.”

“Sounds good,” Vitaly says, rising as his brothers do the same. I stand while they shake hands. I’m completely caught off guard when Osip pulls me in for a hug.

“Keep him happy, Katya,” he growls in my ear. “And keep your fucking eyes open. We want to know more about these men.”

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