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Mrs. Aslanhov comes to stand next to me, and I quickly whisper, “You look beautiful, Mama.”
“Thank you.” She gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I haven’t seen you since we arrived. Are you at least having some fun?”
I nod. “I spent yesterday with Aurora and her friend Abbie.”
“It’s good that you’re trying to be friends with Misha’s wife. Family is important.”
I nod again, then take a seat. Alek takes his place next to Armani, where they’re standing up front.
“We’re leaving first thing tomorrow,” Mrs. Aslanhov informs me.
“Okay.”
All the guests take a seat, and I almost have a panic attack when Mr. Vetrov comes to sit on my right. I know it’s because he’s representing the head of the bratva family, but damn, I won’t be able to focus on the ceremony at all.
My eyes remain glued to my brother while my hands clutch the purse containing my phone and all the tissues I could fit into it.
Needing something to do, I check that my phone is turned on silent even though everyone I know is here.
“Are you happy for your brother?” Mr. Vetrov suddenly asks.
Having no choice, I force a trembling smile to my lips and turn my head so I can look at the most dangerous man in our world. “Yes, sir.”
“Call me Viktor. After all, we’re family.”
The bratva family.
I grip my purse tighter as I nod.
His eyes narrow slightly as he says, “Soon, it will be your turn to get married.”
Dear God.
It feels like I swallowed sand as I nod again.
“Don’t worry.” Viktor gives my trembling hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll make sure whoever you marry is a good man.”
Are there any good men in the bratva?
“Thank you,” I whisper.
The background music stops, and a second later, the piano notes of Pachelbel's Canon in D start to fill the air.
Instead of looking at Aurora, I watch Misha struggle to control his emotions. When his features tighten and his eyes mist with tears, I fail to keep my own from falling.
I really hope she’ll make you happy, Misha. You’ll finally have the home we’ve always wanted. Even though I’m sad to share you with Aurora, I’m very happy for you, my brother.
When Aurora reaches Misha, and I watch my brother stare at his bride with all the love in the world, I say a little prayer that whoever Viktor chooses as my husband will look at me the same way.
But deep down, I know the odds of that happening are slim to none.
Misha and Aurora turn to face the priest, and as they say their vows, I’m truly happy that my brother has found love.
After Misha and Aurora are pronounced husband and wife, they make their way down the aisle, and Armani moves toward me. Needing to get away from the head of the bratva, I quickly stand up and hook my arm through Armani’s.
Walking to where the photos will be taken, I let out a sigh of relief.
Armani leans slightly down, then asks, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It was just scary sitting next to Viktor Vetrov. I’ll have a panic attack if I have to sit with him at the reception.”
He lets out a chuckle. “Don’t worry, you’re seated next to me at the table.”
Thank God.
Reaching the bride and groom, I wait for Abbie and Alek to finish congratulating them before I hug Misha. “I hope you’ll only know happiness and have a big family.”
“Thanks, Tiana.”
He pulls away and I step closer to Aurora. “Now you’re a Petrov,” I say with a wide smile. “Welcome to the family.”
We share an emotional hug before she replies, “Thank you for sharing your brother with me.”
Tears flood my eyes, and we hold each other for a minute longer before the photographer starts giving orders.
Chapter 4
Armani
I’ve been glued to Tiana’s side, and as we listen to the last toast being given, I lean into her and whisper, “Once Misha and Aurora have opened the dance floor, we’ll join them.”
Tiana’s hair brushes against my cheek as she replies, “I can’t dance.”
I let out a chuckle. “We’ll just stand in one spot and sway.”
Christ, she smells so fucking good.
She reaches for her glass of water but accidentally bumps it over. “Pizdets,” she snaps, quickly grabbing the napkin to wipe up the spilled water.
Picking up my own napkin, I help her clean the mess. A grin plays around my mouth from hearing her curse in Russian. I’ve heard Misha use the word several times and picked up that it means ‘dammit.’
“I’m sorry,” Tiana mutters. “I’m clumsy.”
“It’s just water.” I gesture for a server to come to us and order, “Bring us more napkins and another glass of water with ice and lemon.”
When the server rushes off to carry out the order, Tiana gives me a sheepish smile that tugs at my heartstrings. “At least I didn’t spill the water on us.”
