Page 160 of Deceitful Vows

I just have to hope Zoya feels the same way, or I’m fucked.

When the crowdahsin sync, I try to shift my eyes to the end of the aisle—to move them to the woman I am marrying. I fail.

I can’t take my eyes off Zoya for a single second. It isn’t solely her beauty that demands the attention of any man with a pulse. It is how fast her lips move when a man wearing a backward baseball cap butts shoulders with her.

Whatever he whispers in her ear pisses her off and balls my hands.

That should be the end of my reaction. It isn’t, however. After slanting my head to hide the movement of my lips from the people in the front three pews, I ask, “Who is he?”

The earpiece in my ear crackles before Konstantine murmurs, “No fucking clue. I ran him through facials after he approached her at Le Rogue. Nothing came up.”

I accept Arabella’s hand from her mother before guiding her onto the podium where the celebrant is waiting for us. Her veil and puffy white dress should be enough incentive to let this go, but Zoya’s agitation grew the further Arabella walked down the aisle, which means mine tripled.

“What about in the other system we’ve been utilizing over the past few months?”

“I wasn’t sure it was worth the hassle.” My jaw tightens when Konstantine says, “You said you were done with her.”

“I am done with her. But I still want to know who he is.” I glare down at Arabella while saying through clenched teeth, “Since she is my soon-to-be sister-in-law, I should probably look out for her.”

Konstantine’s shocked huff announces my exchange with Arabella in the elevator last night wasn’t monitored. “All right. I’ll run it now. It may take a bit.”

“You have five minutes.”

He calls me an asshole before the strokes of his keyboard are drowned out by the celebrant commencing proceedings. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the legal union of Kazimir Andrik Dokovic and A?—”

“I object!”

As everyone’s eyes snap to Zoya, the celebrant says, “We haven’t reached that part yet, and you better have a very valid reason for the interruption, young lady.”

I hope he kissed his family goodbye this morning. The derogative tone he uses to publicly dress down Zoya ensures it would have been for the final time.

“I have a good reason,” Zoya murmurs as her eyes shift from her sister to me. “I’m pregnant, and from what I read last night, there hasn’t been a Dokovic child born out of wedlock in over a hundred years. I’d hate for my child to be the first.”

Although everything she is saying is true, I scoff before gesturing for the celebrant to continue. The “I’m pregnant” ruse is the oldest in the book. I’ve dodged it numerous times in the past twenty-plus years without incident.

Though it is a little harder this time since I’m aware her next comment is true. “We had unprotected sex more than once. That comes with a risk, An”—Zoya recovers quickly from her near fumble of my name—“Kazimir. One you failed to adequately assess before you decided tofuckwith me.”

“I didn’tassessthe situation adequately because you’re infertile,” I argue back, hating that she’s airing our dirty laundry for the world to see, but too fucking furious she is placing her anger before Zakhar’s life not to snap back. “We met at a fertility clinic.”

“Exactly!”

Zoya fights to get out of one of my father’s goon’s hold before Maksim ends her struggle with a threat. It sees the goon stepping back with his hands in the air, confident he is seconds from death.

I hate that Maksim is defending her, but not as much as the turmoil her following sentence instigates. “I was at a fertility clinic seeking treatment. You can ask anyone who has suffered from endometriosis. The chances of conceptionincreasetenfoldafter laparoscopic ablation.”

I shake my head, too sickened to even consider the possibility. A month ago, I would have banged my chest. But now…fuck.I’ll be seen as a mockery.

This is not something I will ever live down.

“She’s telling the truth,” fires up her best friend. “I’ve also been pumping her with fertility supplements over the past six months.” Nikita shifts on her feet to face a still and slack-jawed Zoya. “I didn’t mean to snoop. I just wanted to lessen your pain. I was trying to help.”

The crowd loves the tension the sheer honesty in Nikita’s eyes offer.

I fucking hate it.

So much so, I dismiss Zoya with an edge of arrogance I am certain she is growing to loathe. “It doesn’t matter. I love Arabella, and I want her to be my wife.”

I also love my son, and I refuse for my foolish mistakes to end his life.

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