Page 25 of The Bratva's Forced Bride

The bridal party waits for us to leave and then follows. I see Penny has tears in her eyes, which is strange since she knows this is just for show, mostly for my mother.

We all get into our respective vehicles and drive to Afanasy, where the reception is being held. It’s decorated to the nines.

Balloons, streamers made of ribbon, not paper, proper tablecloths, and napkins all folded fancy into animals. You wouldn’t get a more luxurious wedding thrown together so quickly if you tried. I’m surprised because it looks like everyone turned up.

There’s a mountain of gifts as we enter and move to a secluded spot from which we will be introduced as Mr. and Mrs. We have to wait for everyone to take their seats. I lean down to Asher. “You’re doing a fantastic job.”

“I’m sleeping in the guest room if you get drunk,” she murmurs back, refusing to look at me.

Once we’re introduced, and everyone is seated, I stand to make my toast.

“Everyone, I would like to thank you all for coming on such short notice to celebrate my wedding. I promise there was no pregnancy involved.” Everyone chuckles at that stupid joke. Predictable. “Asher and I are simply so in love we don’t want to wait a single moment more to start spending the rest of our lives together. So, a big thank you to Mama Milov for organizing this amazing wedding on such short notice. Asher,” I turn to look at her, “the day you agreed to marry me is the happiest day of my life. I couldn’t dream of something I wanted more. You are the sun in my dark world, and I hope to always make you happy. To Asher.”

Everyone choruses. “To Asher.”

We eat. We drink. We’re very merry. But Asher grows quieter and quieter as the night goes on. I send Penny to the bathroom with her to ask her what her problem is, but when she comes back, everything seems fine.

At last, the night is over, and we are herded out of the club with grains of rice flying everywhere. I smile at Asher, who is smiling, but it’s a cold smile, unfeeling. I can tell she’s not happy. I mean, I expected her to be unhappy, but I thought we had agreed she would pretend for today at least.

We get in the limo, and I turn to her as it starts to drive off. “Out with it, why are you full of sour grapes? The last two hours of that party was like pulling teeth from chickens with you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she says quietly. She refuses to look at me, opting to stare out the window instead. I don’t want the driver to spread rumors, so I keep quiet until we’re in the house. As she walks ahead of me, I grab her arm and turn her around. “Do not disrespect me, Asher. I am not a pleasant person when you do.”

“What are you going to do to me? You said you won’t hit me or rape me, so how are you going to punish me.” She tears up. “Isn’t being married to you punishment enough.”

I frown and hold both her arms. “I will make sure you never see the light of day again. Do you understand me?”

“Let me go. I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight.”

“Like hell, you are,” I roar. “Get to the bedroom now. I don’t care if you don’t like it.”

She goes a bit pale in the face, and I let her go. “Asher.”

She turns and hurries up the stairs. It was not exactly what I wanted for our wedding night; I wanted it to be at least friendly. Confound that woman.

I give her time to change and wash up before entering the bedroom. I go in, and she’s already slipped into bed and curled up. The duvet is pulled over her head, and she’s shaking. I can hear the small sobs escaping. I take a hesitant step toward her, but I can’t make myself look weak. Not now.

I get showered and change into boxers before I climb into bed. I don’t try to hold her this night. Instead, I have my back to her, hugging my pillow. The crying doesn’t seem to stop. She keeps going on and on. I can’t take it.

After what feels like half an hour, I get up and head out of the bedroom. “I’m going to get work done,” I mumble.

I go downstairs to my office and shut the door. The guards will keep an eye on her if she tries to leave. I pour myself a glass of whiskey and sigh. I open my laptop and start reviewing some reports the accountant sent me. These would look like legitimate accounting reports to anyone else, but to the trained eye, you can see where the money is.

I work until six, then I go back upstairs and shower again. I’m a little head drunk, and I gulp down some breakfast to try to break it. I’m exhausted, but I can sleep on the plane. Asher doesn’t come downstairs for breakfast, and when I go upstairs, she’s sitting on the bed.

“Come on then, we’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.” I sway slightly, and she eyes me out. “The luggage is already in the car.”

She gets up and walks past me without a word. I follow her, stumbling slightly.

God, I can’t spend my whole marriage like this. I’ll die from alcohol poisoning. She’d be happy about that.

Silence. There is complete silence as we travel to the airport, and then she completely shuts me out on the plane, so I throw a sleep mask on, recline my business class chair, and probably snore for the entire flight.

I honestly don’t give a flying fuck. I’m exhausted from my wedding night, and not for the right reasons.

We land and I check us into our hotel room. She unpacks her clothes quietly, and we go downstairs to dinner. It was a long flight to the Maldives and then a boat to a nearby island, but it’s like paradise here. There is nothing like spending your time on a tropical island to try to smooth things over with your wife.

We don’t speak during dinner. I don’t want to push her. I don’t want to hurt her more than I have. I want her to trust me, to grow to like me. Maybe I can’t convince her to love me, but perhaps we could be friends, which would make this a hell of a lot easier.

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