Page 5 of Till Death Saves Me

Virginia glides down the aisle, a vision in white that steals the breath from my lungs. Fuck. It's not fair how stunning she looks. Her dark curls are piled high, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. The dress hugs every lush curve, leaving just enough to the imagination to drive a man wild.

I grit my teeth harder. This slip of a girl is going to be the death of me.

As she draws closer, I catch the slight tremor in her hands as they grip her bouquet. Her eyes meet mine, a swirl of emotions I can't quite decipher. Fear? Defiance? Something else entirely?

Virginia takes her place beside me, close enough that I catch the scent of her perfume. Jasmine and vanilla. Intoxicating. Dangerous.

The priest drones on, but I barely hear the words. My senses are on overdrive, hyper-aware of every subtle shift of Virginia's body, every quiet breath she takes.

When it's time for the vows, I force the words past the lump in my throat. They taste like ash on my tongue. This isn't how it was supposed to be. This naive, sheltered girl has no place in my world.

Yet as I slide the ring onto her delicate finger, I can't help but notice how perfectly it fits. Like it was always meant to be there.

I push the traitorous thought aside. This is business, nothing more. A necessary evil for the good of the Bratva.

But as Virginia's warm brown eyes lock with mine, I feel something shift deep inside. A crack in the armor I've spent years building.

My muscles tense as I force my eyes away from her. No. We will be having none of that.

I recite the vows, my voice as cold and lifeless as a Siberian winter. Each word falls from my lips like lead, heavy with the weight of obligation and resentment. This isn't a declaration of love, it's a business transaction.

"I, Ivan Mikhailovich Kozlov, take you, Virginia Faye Sullivan, to be my lawfully wedded wife..."

The words taste bitter on my tongue. I feel Virginia flinch beside me, her body tensing at my glacial tone. For a split second, guilt flickers in my chest. This girl didn't ask for this any more than I did. But I can't afford to let sentiment cloud my judgment. Guilt is a luxury I can't indulge in.

I continue, my voice never wavering. "...to have and to hold, from this day forward..."

My eyes scan the crowd, assessing potential threats out of habit. I catch sight of Lev in the front row. He gives me a pointed look, silently reminding me of our conversation. Don't take it out on her. It's not her fault.

I grit my teeth and force myself to look at Virginia. Her eyes are wide, a mix of fear and determination swirling in their depths. She's trembling slightly, but her chin is lifted defiantly. Despite myself, I feel a grudging spark of respect. Maybe there's more steel in her spine than I gave her credit for.

"...for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer..."

The irony of those words isn't lost on me. Virginia has no idea what she's getting into. The violence, the danger, the constant threat of betrayal. Her sheltered world is about to come crashing down around her ears.

As I finish the vows, I see a single tear slip down Virginia's cheek. She blinks rapidly, trying to hold back the rest. That unwelcome twinge of guilt returns, stronger this time. I push it away ruthlessly. I can't afford to feel sorry for her. Compassion is a weakness in our world, one that can get you killed.

And yet, I reach up and wipe the tear with my thumb like I'm cupping her face. Like I'm a real husband, not trying to hide that my virgin bride is about to lose it at the altar.

The priest prompts Virginia to begin her vows. Her voice wavers at first, but grows stronger with each word. I listen with half an ear, my mind already racing ahead to the challenges we'll face. How am I going to keep her safe? How can I shield her from the ugliness of our world without compromising our operations?

I shake my head slightly, banishing the thoughts. One step at a time. Get through this farce of a wedding first. Then we'll deal with the rest.

I catch sight of Nikolai and Lev in the front row, their presence a stark reminder of why I'm really here. This isn't just a wedding - it's a business deal, a strategic move to strengthen our position in the Bratva. The weight of their expectations settles on my shoulders like a lead blanket.

Nikolai's ice-blue eyes meet mine, his expression unreadable. But I know what he's thinking. This union better be worth it. The pressure to make this marriage work, to use it to our advantage, is crushing.

Lev, on the other hand, can't seem to wipe that shit-eating grin off his face. He's enjoying this far too much. I make a mental note to put him through hell later. Might even get Aleks involved. It's the only way the bastard learns anymore.

The priest drones on about the sanctity of marriage, and I have to fight the urge to snort. If he only knew the truth behind this "holy union."

Virginia shifts beside me, and I feel her eyes on me. I don't look at her. It feels like a mistake every time I have so far. It's making this shit so much more complicated than I expected.

But it's hard to ignore the warmth of her body so close to mine, the scent of her perfume clouding my senses. Fuck. This is going to be more difficult than I thought.

When the priest finally utters those dreaded words, "You may now kiss the bride," I steel myself for what's to come. I turn to face Virginia, my new wife, and for a moment, I'm struck by the vulnerability in her eyes. There's fear there, yes, but also a flicker of something else. Curiosity? Anticipation? I push the thought aside.

I lean in, intending to make this as quick and impersonal as possible. Just a brush of the lips, nothing more. A formality to seal this business arrangement.

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