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God, that sounded awful.
I resist the urge to slap my forehead as my face flames up with embarrassment. Being painfully shy makes it hard to communicate with someone I’ve just met.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
A devastating grin tugs at his lips. “Don’t apologize.” He holds his arm out to me. “Ready?”
Nodding, I slip my arm through his while I pull the door shut with my other hand. I feel the spark again, making my heartbeat speed up and a tremor shudder through my body.
I’ve never been in love, because I’m too awkward to talk to boys. Besides, Misha would kill any boy I tried to date.
But the effect Armani has on me is too intense to ignore, only adding to my already overwhelmed state of mind.
When we walk down the corridor, the silence feels heavy, and I struggle not to fidget.
It doesn’t help that Armani is so damn attractive. It makes me more awkward than I usually am.
“Have you seen Misha?” I ask to break the silence.
“Yeah. He’s excited and can’t wait for the ceremony to be over so he can take Aurora on their honeymoon.”
I nod again, not paying much attention to our surroundings as Armani leads me to the garden that’s decorated in greens and whites.
Chairs are separated by an aisle, and people are standing around talking with each other. I see Mr. and Mrs. Aslanhov where they're talking to a younger couple. Mr. Aslanhov seems to be all business, while Mrs. Aslanhov smiles politely.
Out of all the guests, I only know the Aslanhovs, Armani, Aurora, and Abbie whom I met yesterday.
Still, there are easily more than a hundred people here.
Subconsciously, I tighten my hold on Armani’s arm.
“This is why I prefer an intimate wedding. It’s too crowded.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I’m not a people person.”
“Misha mentioned it to me.” Armani leads me to the front row and gestures at a chair. “Take a seat here. That way, you’ll sit right across from where I’m standing.”
I can’t stop a smile from curving my lips as I sit down, then think to ask, “Shouldn’t I greet some of the guests?” After all, I’m Misha’s only family. It would look bad if I don’t, right?
“No, you don’t have to. They’re mainly affiliated with the mafia or bratva. Misha said to bring you to your seat.”
I let out a relieved breath and steal a long look at Armani while his eyes scan over the guests.
Not only is he handsome, but he seems to be a good person.
Well, as good as they come in the mafia and bratva.
My eyes get stuck on his lips which look like they’re frozen in a permanent, hot smirk.
What would it feel like to kiss him?
My stomach erupts with unexpected butterflies. I slap a hand over my stomach, and lifting my eyes higher, it’s to see Armani staring at me.
Intense heat flushes my face, and I quickly look away.
Dammit. Does he know what I was thinking?
Luckily, Misha comes walking up the aisle, and I quickly rise to my feet to hug him. The safety of my brother’s arms calms my overwhelmed emotions.
When we pull apart, I force a smile to my face and try to forget that Armani just caught me gawking at him. “How’re your nerves?”
Misha lets out a chuckle. “I just want to say my vows and get out of here.”
My smile turns real as I tease him, “You’ve always been impatient.”
A man in his thirties walks toward us, and Misha instantly tenses. “Mr. Vetrov, thank you for coming.”
Vetrov.
Hearing the name pours ice through my veins. I instinctively step closer to Misha, which has the man’s sharp gaze landing on me.
“I wouldn’t miss this important wedding for the world. He keeps staring at me, then asks, “Is this Tiana?”
A proud smile forms on Misha’s face as he wraps a protective arm around me. “Yes. Tiana, this is Viktor Vetrov, the head of the bratva.”
Oh, Jesus.
I start to tremble as intense fear engulfs me. My mouth grows dry, and I struggle to take a deep breath.
Surprisingly, Mr. Vetrov’s features soften as he smiles at me.
It takes more strength than I have to shake his hand, then he says, “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Tiana. Your brother is turning out to be one of my best men. If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
There’s no way I’ll ever ask Viktor Vetrov for a favor. The last thing I need in my life is to be indebted to the head of the bratva.
I don’t dare to voice my thoughts and instead reply, “Thank you, Mr. Vetrov. It’s an honor meeting you.”
We’re joined by Mr. and Mrs. Aslanhov, and I can finally breathe as Mr. Vetrov’s attention is pulled away from me.
I don’t know much about the bratva, but I do know Mr. Aslanhov used to work with Mr. Vetrov’s godfather before he handed the reins over to Mr. Vetrov.
