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I don't want everyone to see what she does to me, but I can't kiss her and make it look like nothing. As soon as I find her tongue, I'm lost in the moment, pushing my fingers into the hair at her nape. Her warm mouth flexes against mine, her lips supple, and she moves her hand to rest her fingertips on my jawline.
Sasha coughs and kicks my ankle, and reluctantly, I break the kiss. Someone at the back of the church yells, "nikakogo seksa v tserkvi!" to raucous laughter. The strings start again, playing a traditional Russian folk song, and people get to their feet, dancing in the aisle.
Morgana frowns at me. "What did he say?"
I grin. "He said, 'no sex in church.' Seems a damn shame. I like the idea of giving The Almighty a show."
"Hell doesn't scare you?"
"I already know that's where I'll end up. At this stage, it's go big or go home."
Morgana wriggles out of my grasp. "So let's attend our reception and play nice. I'm sure you'll have other opportunities to prove you're an abomination before God and man."
"An abomination?" I follow her, dodging flying flower petals and rice. "I thought you didn't like me."
"You did your best to convince menotto look past your bullshit." I open the wedding car door, and she dives in, with me behind her. "But you're not what you sell yourself as, are you? You made sure my Mom had her medication. Got my parents here today. Why didn't you tell me you were doing those things?"
"Honestly?" I gather her skirt, trying to pull it into the car so I can shut the door, and she giggles. "I thought you'd run out on me, on the wedding, if you realized I wasn't gonna hurt your parents after all. It wasn't in my interest to lose my leverage."
Morgana waves at her parents as we pull away. "I am sorry about the dress. But your stupid rules got my back up. I thought you were an irredeemable asshole."
"Understandable." I narrow my eyes. "But don't imagine you've got away with it,lisichka. I'll get you back for that little performance."
26
Morgana
The terrace looks pretty decorated with string lights. Dulcie barks orders at servers as they rush around with hor d'oeuvres, and at the far side of the rooftop, the bar is serving expertly mixed cocktails.
I'm helping myself to blinis and caviar when the music fades. I look around, wondering what's happening.
Lilyana sits at a white baby grand on a small stage on the terrace, avoiding making eye contact with anyone. Amazing that these things just happen, but this is what it means to be obscenely wealthy.
Vlad appears beside me and takes the plate from my hand.
"It's time," he says. "David will announce us. Just as we rehearsed—basic steps, no lifts or dips."
"Just as well," I reply. "I doubt I could salsa in this dress, anyway."
"Ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom," David says. He leads the applause, and Vlad and I take the floor.
Lilyana flexes her fingers, and a hush descends on the crowd as she plays. Vlad takes my hand in his, the other at my waist, moving me with more confidence than last night. All around us, strangers' faces soften as they drink in the romance.
And romantic it is. It should feel like a sick mockery, a desecration of something soulful and authentic. But with Vlad's hands on me, I feel truly held. Not just physically, but in my heart.
Isthisthe real him?
Vlad and I are almost cheek-to-cheek. He whispers in my ear.
"Wise men say…"
Tears spring to my eyes.
I'm caught in my feelings, clinging to this man I barely know and cursing my stupid heart. It was bad enough in the church. I hate myself for wishing this beautiful moment wasn't fake, too.
Why must he torment me so?
"Only fools rush in…."
