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"Don't do this to me," I say, my voice breaking.
Vlad's lips brush my earlobe. "But I can't help…"
I hold my breath, but he doesn't complete the lyrics.
I'm falling for him.Too hard, too fast, but I'm powerless to stop it. Just like the song says, I'm a fool. I'm well on the way to loving this complicated, dangerous man. His arms already feel like home.
Vlad is looking at something behind me, and as we turn, I realize it's Sergey. The old man's expression is pure venom as we spin past him.
Vlad's father sees something, just as Lili does. But if Sergey looks for beauty, it's not so he can appreciate it. If he had his way, he would snuff out our burgeoning feelings for no reason other than malice.
I cling to my husband and wonder what's to become of us. I thought love camebeforeheartbreak, but the way I feel now, I'm not sure. We already know we will walk away from one another. Whatever this is will end before it begins.
The song is over, but Vlad holds onto me. Dulcie is handing out shots of vodka to every guest.
"No," Sergey says, still glaring at us. "David,nyet. I don't wanna see it."
David waves his hand dismissively. "Oh, shut up, Sergey. It's happening."
"See what?" I frown at Vlad. "What does he mean?"
Vlad wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer. "Someone will take the first shot and shout'gorko.' This means the vodka is bitter. We have to kiss for as long as it takes for everyone to drink." He grins. "The sweetness of our union is supposed to take the foul taste away."
"Wow. Has the vodka ever turned to cyanide?"
He laughs. "Bratva couples rarely marry for love. This tradition is a sick joke."
"Gorko!" someone yells. Guests knock back their shots, adding more and more voices to the chorus.
“Gorko! Gorko! Gorko!”
Vlad smiles at me. "Gotta play to the gallery,lisichka."
He takes my face in his hands. If he feels the tears on my cheeks, he doesn't show it. He lowers his lips to mine and kisses me tenderly, to whistles and hollers from the crowd.
* * *
I sit with Mom and Dad, watching the party. Now and then, someone stops and says how happy they are for us. I smile graciously and make the right noises. What else can I do?
Mom is nursing a small glass of Chablis. I haven't seen her drink her favorite wine in years, and I can't remember when she last seemed so alive, either.
Vlad is shaking hands with his guests and sharing jokes. He takes the hand of a middle-aged woman, kissing it, and she gives a tinkling laugh.
"That man is a goner for you," Mom says, nodding at my new husband.
"He already told me he doesn't do love." I pick the olive out of my Martini. "Vlad is a red-blooded man. He knows what he wants, but that's no foundation for a marriage. When his father dies, I'll be free and a millionaire."
We fall silent. I watch Vlad smile as Sasha hands him a drink.
"Oh, Morgana," Mom says, putting her hand over mine. "I know you went through a lot of bad stuff with Jack. But he never looked at you like Vlad does." She lowers her voice. "If you put more effort into making it work rather than fighting it, things might end differently. Or not end at all."
"Mom, he's bratva. He's done terrible things and doesn't feel a scrap of remorse.ShouldI love a man like that?"
Mom glances at my dad. He's tucking into canapés and paying no mind to our conversation.
"Your father was a hellion in his younger days." She sips her wine. "And he was a tough nut to crack, too. But let me tell you this, Morgana. If a wicked man grows a heart for you, that's it. You own him. The love of a villain is hard to come by, but it's for keeps."
I'm not in control here, Morgana. No fucking way.That's what Vlad said.
