Page 90 of Seduction (Wicked Vows)

I wonder which one of them will marry my sister. I grin when one of his brothers places a gold crown on his head. I take mine as well, and even though we laugh, I feel the weight of that symbolism.

Queen. King. Rulers.

Nikko holds my hand in the air like a prized fighter, and the next thing I know, I’m swept off my feet. “I present to you our newly married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Romanov!” I squeal with laughter, and he practically runs with me to the reception area just as the clouds break open again and our good luck rain pours down in buckets. He’s absolutely soaked but manages to shield me from the downpour so I’m still mostly dry as we make it to the main home.

Uniformed staff stand waiting by the bar, and large round tables are filled with coordinating flowers. “So that’s it,” I say, grinning up at Nikko as he stares down at me. His hair is soaked, and there are large splotches of water all over his dress coat. He shrugs it off and tosses it on a chair. I let my eyes feast on his chiseled body that’s been practically poured into a tailored dress shirt.

“Mmm,” I say in a low whisper. I fist his tie and yank him over to me. “Tell me we can skip the ceremony, husband?”

It feels natural to call him that after pretending for all this time. It’s hard to believe that he is, indeed, my husband now. I’d guess it’s going to take me a while to fully embrace that.

We’re soon pulled into the festivities and let them do all their traditions. We break our dishes—a strange tradition, but one we follow nonetheless. It isn’t until we’re picking the pieces up together, also a part of the tradition, that the symbolism of our actions really hits me.

Picking up the broken pieces, we clean up the mess. . . together.

We start again. . . together.

We tie the literal knot in a handkerchief to strengthen the marriage bond, and Mikhail presents us with a loaf of bread and salt, supposedly a symbol of hospitality and prosperity. We take a bite together to signify our willingness to break bread together.

By the time we get to tossing the bouquet and garter to the crowd, one of the only traditions familiar enough to me, I feel like I could fall asleep standing up. Just like in traditional American weddings, whoever catches it is the next to marry. Though the single women nearly push each other out of the way to catch it, the bouquet lands squarely in Viktor’s large, rough hands.

He and Nikko share a look. Ekaterina’s eyes go wide. Mikhail only nods.

We will see about that, then.

The celebration continues with music, dancing, and a lavish dinner featuring gourmet, traditional Russian dishes, as well as decadent American fare. Even the cake looks like it was taken out of the pages of a glossy catalog—tall, immaculately white, and decorated with shaved chocolate.

We take our first dance in the center of the room under a canopy of twinkling fairy lights. It feels. . . magical.

As the evening transitions into night, the garden is illuminated with soft lighting, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. Though this is by no means a typical wedding, it feels. . . homey. Familiar. Comfortable. Guests begin to leave, and soon, it’s mostly family and close friends who remain.

“It’s time,” Nikko finally says.

“Time?”

I hear a horn blare outside the large window. I turn and laugh out loud at the sight of the car elaborately decorated with ribbons and flowers, even a little plush teddy tied to the antenna and two large golden rings hanging by ribbons in the back window.

“My brothers really outdid themselves,” he says with a groan. “And yes. It’s time for us to head to our honeymoon. We need some time to ourselves.” He reaches for my hand. “We’ll have to come back here again soon, but for now, I want to take you somewhere where just the two of us can finally rest.”

I smile at him and whisper in his ear, “You’ve never said anything sexier.”

My mother approaches us. “Come and visit?”

“Of course I will,” I tell her. “We’ll likely only spend half our time in Russia anyway.”

She smiles. “I’ll take it!”

“Plus, someone has to help you get ready for Lydia’s wedding.”

She sighs. “Indeed.”

Ekaterina kisses Nikko, then me. “Thank you,” she whispers in my ear. “He loves you so.”

Polina, Aria, and Harper all give me huge hugs and their cell phone numbers, and Harper hands me a bag she’s packed with “all the essentials.”

“I want you to tell me all about that research you’re doing when you come back,” Polina says. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

“You can count on it.”

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