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“I will discuss it with my family and suggest you do the same. We will announce the wedding once your investment is in and the project is underway.”
“You think I’m a fool? What if I invest and you back out once again when you have my money?”
“I won’t risk my reputation, Mr. Russo. If I do that, nobody will trust my word anymore, and this will become the only project I will ever do. Besides, we will throw in an official marriage contract in the partnership laws.”
Gerald remains silent for a moment before reluctantly responding. "Fine. But this is only temporary, Zolotov. Once our project is complete, I expect you to honor your commitment. Don't forget that I hold the keys to your future success. Cross meagain, and I won't hesitate to bring you and your precious family down."
"Understood," I reply, my voice steady despite the threat. "In the meantime, let's focus on our project and make sure it succeeds. We can revisit this discussion when the time is right."
"Very well," Gerald says, his tone still venomous. "But remember, Boris, I'm watching you. Don't disappoint me again."
Russo ends the call. The minute that happens, Damien and Lev high-five each other, and I break into a wide grin. “Well, I bought you time,” I say just as Lev exclaims, “I say we throw Anoushka under the bus.”
I chuckle. Knowing our sister, I can only imagine how wellthatwould go down.
Chapter 14 - Robin
Standing outside the church, I can't help but feel a pang of loneliness as I think about my parents not being here for my wedding. Mother, dead. Father, gone.
As a young girl, I frequently watched my mother move between boyfriends, her moods changing as the men changed. Adam and I were just kids. So lost. So lonely. I dreamt of my wedding day, and it was everything but this.
I imagined a room full of friends. I imagined embracing his family as my own. I imagined we would plan the whole thing for months, argue over flowers and cake, and arrange our honeymoon.
I haven’t even met Boris’s family. I’ve only seen them in pictures and heard their names in conversation. We aren’t going on a honeymoon.
This is nothing but a gunshot wedding.
The cold wind bites at my skin, and I wrap my arms around myself. The doors would open at any moment.
I wish Adam could have been here. I told him I’m getting married, but he’s still in hiding, and unfortunately, I need to keep him away from this. Tears spring to my eyes, and I wipe them away.
I use mind tricks to focus on the positive. I can’t walk down the aisle crying.Boris. Focus on Boris. He’s been nothing but kind since our one-night stand resulted in this unexpected pregnancy, arranging everything for our marriage, even buying my dress and ring.
And this ring is far too generous. It’s huge. A real diamond.
"Ready?" The coordinator asks me with a warm smile, and I nod hesitantly.
As the doors swing open and the music starts, I take a deep breath and begin walking down the aisle,alone. My heart races as my eyes fall upon Boris, looking strikingly handsome in his black suit and tie. His dark blue eyes meet mine, carrying an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. I barely notice the mostly unfamiliar faces filling the pews on either side, feeling both overwhelmed and out of place.
But focusing on Boris grounds me. When I reach him, he extends his hand. I take it ever so slowly, and he helps me up the step. For some reason, he keeps my hand in his a few seconds longer than needed, giving the edge of my thumb a gentle caress.
My heart flutters like a box of butterflies, and my neck warms at his touch. It really shouldn’t, yet maybe the nerves from today are making me susceptible to the smallest hint of what a normal wedding might have looked like.
"Hi," I say softly, trying to keep my voice from wavering.
"Hello, Robin," he replies, his voice low and smooth. He’s as happy as a man can be under these circumstances, yet I can see a hint of sadness in his eyes, and I wonder if he's thinking about his own dead parents, just as I'm thinking of mine.
"Are you ready to do this?" he asks.
"Let's get married," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
He gives me a warm, bright smile, as radiant and rare as the diamond on my finger.
"Very well," the priest begins, and the ceremony progresses quickly. As we exchange vows and rings, I can't help but think about how bizarre this situation is, marrying a man I hardly know who happens to be part of the Bratva—the Russian mafia.
But despite my reservations, I find myself moved by the words we speak, promising to love and support each other through all the trials life may bring. When Boris slides the ring onto my finger, I feel a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, we can make this marriage work and create a loving family for our unborn child.
“And now,” the priest declares. “You may kiss the bride.”
