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Eventually, Yuriy spots someone in the crowd and, with a tap on my arm, points at the man entering the room. “There’s Nikolai, your father-in-law. I think it’s time for you to meet him.”
With a quick farewell nod at Riccardo and Elena, Yuriy walks away from them, and I have no choice but to follow him. I can’t say that I’m thrilled to get to know the person who kept Sasha almost as a prisoner in his own house, but there’s no way around it. At least he’s not as crazy as Gerardo, so I guess I lose to Paolo who has an even worse father-in-law.
“Kolya,” Yuriy calls him as soon as we step closer, and they exchange wide smiles and hearty handshakes. “Has our beautiful bride arrived?”
“Yes, Alexandra is getting ready.” Nikolai waves a hand at the door before his gaze darts to me. “And you are—”
“Louis.” Yuriy doesn’t skip a second to introduce me, giving my back a few mighty pats. “A new addition to the family, huh?”
Both of them laugh, leaning toward each other like brothers, and for some reason, it makes me tense up. But Nikolai quickly turns to me and holds out his hand with a friendly chuckle. “Good to meet you, Louis. Your proposal came up just in time, you know?”
Nikolai turns out to be similar to Yuriy in demeanor and appearance, even though they aren’t blood relatives. Maybe all Russians just keep the same lifestyle that turns them into boars by the time they reach sixty. Unlike Yuriy, who at least keeps himself in shape, Nikolai is overweight, smells of cigarettes, and constantly tries to keep Yuriy’s attention on himself.
It takes me less than a minute to decide that I don’t want him anywhere near my house and my future wife ever again.
We talk about Sasha and the upcoming ceremony for a few more minutes when the first ring of the bell reminds us to take our positions. The whole entrance hall comes to life as people start to flow into the ceremony hall and take their places. I leave Yuriy and Nikolai to find their seats on their own and join the crowd, looking around.
Riccardo, Paolo, and Matteo are my best men, and I’m starting to feel nervous without any of them around. It was only the first ring, so we still have plenty of time, but the tight feeling in my stomach starts to grow.Everything’s gonna be alright, everything’s gonna be perfect, I only have to focus and—
I notice Riccardo and Elena in the corner of the entrance hall, far behind everyone else. Why are they here? My first reaction is to raise my arm and call them, but I catch myself halfway when I realize that they’re still talking to Olga. Unlike before, their faces are serious, they keep glancing around, and it looks like they are discussing some business matters this time.
But why now? Why so far away from everyone else? It looks almost like something secret, and I can’t help but stop in my tracks with a frown. It’s probably none of my business, but am I not a part of the whole deal with the Bratva now?
“Here comes the groom!” Matteo suddenly interrupts my thoughts, squeezing my shoulder. He’s the youngest among us, but he’s always been the calm and responsible type, and I feel some of my nervousness let up in his presence.
“Hey.” I chuckle and, with the last glance Riccardo’s way, nod for Matteo to walk with me to the aisle. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since we arrived.”
We talk about Romeo, his son, and the decline in the Mexicans’ activity lately when Paolo joins us at the altar and the second bell rings through the wedding hall. The remaining guests take their seats, and Riccardo finally makes his way down the aisle, fixing his tie on the way.
The scene from before flashes through my mind, but I have too many worries on my mind to care about his conversation with Olga. The tightness in my gut gets stronger, my palms are sweaty, and even though this wedding is nothing but a performance, I feel as nervous as if it’s real. With the third bell, my heart starts beating faster, and I have to take a deep breath to release the tension in my fists.
It’s nothing, Louis. Come on. It’s nothing—yet it feels like this day is everything to me.
My treacherous heart stutters when I finally see Sasha in her snow-white beautiful dress, with white lilies in her hands and the fire of her red hair under the veil. Something about her appearance makes my mind click, and I realize that this is the wedding I’ve always dreamed of. Even when we dated, I knew Sasha would be my wife someday—and who could’ve known that my life would turn out like this?
I can’t take my eyes off Sasha as she walks down the aisle, holding her hand on Nikolai’s elbow. I see a glint of steel in his eyes when they look at each other at the base of the altar, and something in me flares up in annoyance.Just let her go.But Sasha doesn’t seem to pay attention to her father. She bows her head slightly before turning to me—and I can finally see the features of her face through the veil.
Accompanied by the mellow music from the live orchestra, Sasha comes up to the altar, stops next to me, and it’s time, isn’t it? My throat suddenly turns dry when I reach for her veil, and my chest feels tighter around my lungs. God, she’s beautiful. Her lips are a soft red color, her hair is styled into perfect red waves, and when she looks up at me, her eyes are bright, clear…and full of hatred.
Yes, I almost forgot about that part. My wife desperately wants to kill me.
“Dear family and friends,” the officiant starts a moment later, and Sasha looks away from me, keeping her lips slightly pursed. Oh well, no wedding is perfect, right? “We have gathered today to celebrate the marriage of Louis Messina and Alexandra Pushkova and witness their first step…”
The officiant continues reciting the words of the wedding script, and my focus drifts back to Sasha. She stubbornly refuses to look me in the eyes, keeping her gaze on the officiant, and I can feel annoyance oozing off her. God, I can’t believe she’s still mad at me. I’ve already apologized, haven’t I?
“Are you ready to exchange your vows?”
The officiant’s words are the cue for me to take Sasha’s hands in mine. She knows it’s part of the script, so she allows me to take hold of her hands. Her eyes are cold as ice, but even that doesn’t stop my heart from growing warmer as I repeat the words from the script.
“I, Louis, take you, Alexandra, as my wedded wife. I promise to honor and protect you, to love and cherish you on good days and bad days, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, till death do us part.”
They should mean nothing to me—but for some reason, I feel my throat closing up around the words and my grip on Sasha’s hands tightens. The vow is just a part of the game, so why does it feel so real?
I don’t know if Sasha can feel it, but something in her eyes melts. She looks almost unsure, as if she doesn't know whether to trust me or not, and I squeeze her hands tighter. For some reason, I want her to believe me—but it’s not the time for that, and the officiant turns to Sasha and gestures for her to do her part.
“I, Alexandra, take you, Louis, as my wedded husband...”
She repeats the same vow, holding my gaze, and I can see the distant look in her eyes. Her voice is steady and emotionless, and I’m sure the words of the vow are empty to her—or at least, she really wants me to think so. But I can feel Sasha’s grip on me tighten as she reaches the end of her vow, and as soon as she’s done she looks away and takes a deep breath as if trying to calm herself.
