Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
And then there are the people.
I don’t know most of them, though I recognize Yana and Zoya, as well as Rodion’s brothers Semyon and Rafail. I’ve always struggled to remember names, so I didn’t make myself memorize more than those few.
For now.
Yana stands beside a man I don’t know, with dark skin and snappy black eyes. He has a wide, handsome, friendly face. She holds his arm with elegance. Her husband.
Zoya fiddles nervously with the red velvet edge of her sleeve. She offers me a small, hesitant smile and a little wave.
“She’s sweet,” I whisper to Rodion.
“Somebody has to be,” he mutters back.
Behind Zoya, Rafail stands like a shadow, broad and imposing. His expression is thunderous as if the permanent scowl he wears is carved into his features. Semyon lingers just a step behind, his eyes flicking between me and Rodion as if cataloging our every move.
He probably is.
And then there are the guards.
Armed men stand at every corner and entrance, their black suits pressed and sharp, not even bothering to hide their guns.
Well, then. I guess this is how we roll now.
They’re not subtle. Neither is the Bratva wealth that exudes from the entire setting as well as every person here—the stretch of imported cars, the perfectly curated lawn, even frozen in mid-winter.
Rodion steps out first and adjusts his tie. My god, why is that so sexy? My romance-cultured brain short-circuits at the sight of him dressed in a tux I had barely processed before now. We were so rushed, and I was so nervous. He fills out the suit with perfection, his tall, lithe, powerful form barely contained. The tiniest hint of a tat peeks out from under his collar, his eyes somehow both serious and dancing.
My heart swells. I love that about him. I love that so much.
He holds a hand out to me silently, palm up. It feels oddly symbolic. I wish I could capture it in a picture. For now, I’ll have to commit it to memory.
His hand is rough as I place mine in his. The warmth of his touch is the only thing grounding me as I step into the cold air.
Every eye is on us. I know somewhere out there, Shawn takes in every detail.
I hope he notes my future husband in detail.
Rodion’s grip tightens as he leans down to whisper in my ear, “Smile, little queen. Everyone’s watching.”
I lift my chin, my heart pounding against my rib cage, and let him lead me forward.
“Ember. I’m Ekaterina Romanova. Welcome.” A woman with a swath of silver hair tucked into a bun smiles at me, her eyes stern yet welcoming. Ah. A woman with a spine of steel but with heart. I like that. I suppose it’s a combo that would serve a woman of the Bratva well.
She extends a hand, and I take it gratefully. Next, she turns to Rodion. “And welcome, Rodion. I’ve heard you two have quite the circumstances surrounding this whole ordeal.” Stepping back, she leans into my ear. “I love romance too, Ember. It’s so… escapist, isn’t it?” With that, she turns and gestures for us to follow her.
“Fortunately, we were in full preparation for tonight’s gala, so a simple wedding ceremony was easy to pull off.”
She goes on about flowers and food, a simple guest list and plans, while I follow Rodion, his family trailing behind us.
I can feel the tension beneath Rodion’s calm exterior, his pulse rapid.
“It’s freezing out here. They didn’t all have to come out,” I say in a small voice to Rodion as he opens the door.
“They came out in case they’re needed.”
Ah. So beneath those elegant, sleek clothes, they’re all armed to the teeth.
Yana winks at me, and little Zoya squeezes my hand as Ekaterina leads us into an elegant living room. I barely notice the details.
I’m about to be married.
“Aren’t there… legal things we need to do?” I ask Rodion.
“Taken care of.”
I give him a half smile, and he snorts under his breath. “Competency porn?” he whispers.
“Mhm.”
At the sight of the officiant, however, I freeze.
This is real.
I’m going to be married. In real life.
Into the Bratva.
Rodion’s wealthy and charming and dangerous as hell, and I have… mixed feelings.
Shawn is breathing down our necks like the predator he is, but the Kopolov family presses in on all sides, reminding us of who they are and what we promise.
This is real.
But as the officiant drones on, I hardly hear them.
Is this really how it ends?
I glance at Rodion, uncertainty swelling in my chest. I feel like I’m waiting for a sign that, at any moment, he’ll give me the signal to run or drop another bombshell on me.
But there’s nowhere to run.
And this is all too real.
We take our vows in a rush of whispers. This is nothing like the formal weddings I’ve read about in the books, but fast and pragmatic.