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The judge nods. “Then with the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the—”
“No.”
A quiet, bitter laugh rushes out of my lungs. What adick. I mean, it’s not like I want to kiss him, either, but his harsh rejection is more than I can handle right now. Am I really going to have to spend the rest of my days with this jerk? I don’t care if he’s easy on the eyes. If Pyotr is going to keep being this abrasive, I can kiss any hope of a mildly content marriage out the window.
The judge has us sign our names on an official certificate. Pyotr signs it quickly while I take my sweet time. If only I had a longer name, maybe I could have prolonged the inevitable.
Behind me, Mother and Mikhail shake hands like this whole thing was a run-of-the-mill business transaction. Maybe it is. That’s the way it was for Oksana, Nikita, and Yasemin. I shouldn’t have expected anything different for myself.
Before we leave, Mother pulls me into a tight hug. It’s not exactly affectionate, more of a crushing vice grip. She presses her lips to my ear and hisses, “Be a good wife. Do as he says. Don’t fuck this up.”
I glare at her when she finally releases me. Father used to say that most blessings come disguised, but today, I’m not so sure. For all I know, I could be trading the clutches of one monster for another.
“You.”
I look around and find Pyotr staring at me again. His eyes burrow into me, so focused and intent I can’t help but feel exposed. His face is impassable. I don’t know what he wants with me.
Pyotr tosses his chin in the direction of the door. “Let’s go,” he orders simply before heading out first.
I clench my hands into tight fists and grit my teeth.
Do as he says. Don’t fuck this up.
I make zero promises.
Chapter 2
Pyotr
Fuck.
She’s so beautiful I want to claw my fucking eyes out. I’m pretty sure I’ve already freaked her out with all the staring. I swear it was an accident. I just couldn’t look away from that cute button nose, those gorgeous green doe eyes, and those lips… So soft and plush andfrowning.
I never would have agreed to this, but my eldest brother is incredibly convincing when he wants to be. Mikhail explained the situation, the stakes. The Salkov Bratva aren’t to be trifled with. They have a large army of loyal men to rival the Antonovs. They’re resourceful, rich, and well-connected. For the past few years or so, they’ve been encroaching on Antonov territory in Moscow, minor border skirmishes here and there.
War would have been inevitable—and bloody.
I understand Mikhail’s logic. An alliance through marriage is the simplest way of keeping the peace. The only problem is that Mikhail and Dimitri are already married. Their own children, my beloved nieces and nephews, are all much too young to be arranged. And I honestly don’t think my brothers would ever think to use them as pawns. They love them far too much. I suppose Mikhail could have asked Luka, but knowing our youngest brother, he would never have agreed to such a thing.
The only viable option left was me.
I’m not interested in the Antonov Bratva’s business. Mikhail and Dimitri… They’ve grown accustomed to this life. This kingdom promised to us as young boys doesn’t hold any sway over me. If we hadn’t been run out of Russia all those years ago, there’s a good chance I would have grown up to lead at their side, but that’s not how it played out. I have a life in New York, a company to run. So, while I’m loyal to my brothers, I do my best to keep out of their affairs.
Running a multi-million-dollar cybersecurity company whilst having affiliations with organized crime… It’s not ideal. So I keep my distance—both figuratively and literally.
But when Mikhail told me about the Salkovs, the threat they posed, and the army they’ve slowly been gathering right on our doorstep… I knew I had to help. Not out of the goodness of my heart, but out of duty to my family. Conflict with the Salkov Bratva would have spelled disaster for my brothers. If I can ensure peace and prosperity by signing a marriage certificate, then so be it. It’s just a piece of paper.
At least, that’s what I told myself. I forgot there’s a living, breathing woman involved in this equation—a woman who’s now trembling beside me in the backseat of my car, sheepishly glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. Our driver pulls into traffic, headed downtown.
“What?”
It comes out as a grumble.Fuck. I’m not good at this sort of thing. Friendly conversations, easy jokes, welcoming smiles—that’s my twin brother’s thing. Dimitri has always had a knack for making friends, putting people at ease. He got all the charm, while I have enough charisma to impress a gnat.
It’s not my intention to make her uncomfortable, but given the circumstances, I think it was inevitable. I hold no ill will toward her, but I’m not exactly eager to get to know her, either. We’re strangers bound together in the eyes of the law and nothing more.
“Where are we going?” she asks, her voice so soft and sweet the roaring car engine almost drowns her out. I have to turn my left ear toward her to get a clearer sound, but it just makes me look like I’m facing away.
“New York,” I answer flatly. Again, not because I’m trying to be an asshole. That’s just the way I talk. Concise and to the point. In the business world, time is money, and I’d rather not waste it on meaningless pleasantries and flowery language.
