Page 9 of Arranged to Marry the Bratva

With Boris by my side, we step into the church. The scent of fresh flowers fills the air—roses, lilies, and peonies, colors blossoming all around. My eyes sweep through the crowd, filled with familiar and strange faces, as everyone jumps to their feet, gasping and cooing.

I can barely make out the faces of our friends and family as they sit in the pews, their eyes fixed on me, as my senses run in all directions, unable to focus on anything and anyone. It all feels like a dream, and I'm simply floating through it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel like the Wedding March is being played for someone else.

"Walk slower," Boris guides me, attempting to reassure me with his steady presence. “They’re all dying to catch a proper glimpse of you.” I nod, forcing a smile, though my mind is clouded with anxiety.

At last, I look up straight ahead at the altar and finally catch sight of Nikolai at the end of the aisle. He stands there, tall and proud, and for some strange reason, the world comes back into focus. His eyes remain unwavering upon mine as though he’s encouraging me to take just one more step and then another. A child cries in the background, and there’s a sound of someone getting up and walking out, but I keep walking forward toward the man who watches me like a hawk.

It’s his eyes, brown and earthy, which calm me. He looks devastatingly handsome in his tailored black suit which looks like it was stitched to his frame, his dark blonde hair slicked back. For a moment, I forget to breathe, caught in the intensity of the moment, as the realization dawns upon me: This devastatingly handsome man is going to be my husband.

Of all the men I could have wedded in an arranged marriage set-up, at least I won in the looks department.

I blush as that thought crosses my mind, momentarily averting my gaze, finding myself in the haze of the moment I almost lost reality in.

Stop it, Anoushka, I tell myself. I remind myself to stay strong. This marriage is a business arrangement, nothing more. I can't let my guard down, no matter how alluring Nikolai may be. I need to maintain a level head and keep my emotions in check.

Once we reach the altar, Boris places my hand into Nikolai's, his touch firm yet gentle. Our eyes meet, and I see a flicker of something in his gaze as it trails away to my face, down my neck, and back up again with a small smile at the corner of his lips—admiration, perhaps? But I don't have time to analyze it further as the ceremony begins.

The ceremony passes in a blur of traditional vows and exchanged rings. I barely register the meaning behind words. I chant what I’m supposed to chant, word for word, almost like I’m being graded on a test. During the ceremony, I look at the priest and the priest alone. From the corner of my eye, I notice Nikolai’s face turning toward me a few times, but I force myself to stare right ahead.

It’s best to establish boundaries from the start itself. This wedding is one on paper only, nothing more.

As the priest pronounces us husband and wife, the moment I’ve been dreading falls upon us.

"You may now kiss the bride," the priest announces, and my stomach clenches with nervousness. If he’s smart, it’d be a peck and nothing more.

With eyes downcast, I turn to face Nikolai. Then, I feel his hand upon my chin. I part my lips in a gasp as I look up to see just what he’s playing at. A slight smirk plays on his lips. He strongly, assuredly pulls my chin up, my blazing eyes staring into his. And then, he bends down, leaning in for our first kiss as a married couple. I brace myself for a brief, perfunctory peck. Instead, he delivers something entirely different.

Our lips meet, and I’m prepared to pull away when his tongue glides over my upper lip. In an instant, his hands cup my face, and he leans in further, placing one hand on my lower back. My knees almost buck below me as I feel a sudden pool of pure desire I never thought I could feel in kissing a stranger. All thought fades away, and I part my lips for air, and his tongue glides right in, tasting like sin.

I moan, and he pushes his hand into my lower back, bringing me closer, setting me on fire, and leaving me momentarily lost in the sensation. It's as if he's trying to claim me, assert his ownership over me, and why the hell am I okay with this?

When he finally pulls away, I'm left stunned, breathless, dazed, and disoriented. The sound of applause brings me back to reality, and for the first time, I turn to look at my husband, anger simmering beneath. I search his eyes for an explanation, but all I find is a glimmer of triumph.

As we turn to face the applauding congregation, I realize that my carefully laid plans have been thrown into disarray. What the hell was up with that kiss? I’m going to have to set things right.

***

The reception is a whirlwind of activity, with guests milling about, eager to congratulate us on our nuptials. Nikolai keeps me close, his hand resting possessively on the small of my back as we navigate the crowded ballroom. His touch sends shivers down my spine, and I find myself struggling to maintain my composure.

At last, when we find a moment alone, I turn to him. “You don’t have to stand quite so close,” I hiss, pulling away from his touch.

“The world needs to see we’re strong together,” he tells me, smiling down at me, his eyes just on me and me alone. “They can’t sense there’s trouble in paradise now, can they?”

“Fine,” I say through gritted teeth, though I wear a smile.

Just then, a beautiful, thin blonde with poker-straight hair walks up to us. “You ready for your first dance?” she asks Nikolai, barely glancing in my direction.

“Anoushka, meet my sister,” Nikolai nods in her direction. “Sofia.”

“Your sister,” I gasp with genuine delight. In my family, we sisters stick together. “It’s so nice to meet you!” I tell her warmly.

“Likewise,” she says, not even bothering with a smile as she barely glances in my direction before she looks back at Nikolai. “So? That dance?”

“Sure,” he says, frowning slightly as he watches her walk away.

I stand there, feeling out of place, knowing through that one interaction that I’m not wanted.

“Sorry about that,” Nikolai shakes his head, now leading me toward the floor. “She can be a bit… slow to warm up.”

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