Page 48 of Deceitful Vows

This is his third incident today.

There is pushing the limits, and then there is completely overriding them.

His interference today is the latter.

My answer comes from a woman who needs to learn her place. “We figured with the media in surplus from your father’s first visit home in years, that it would be the prime opportunity to announce your engagement.” Dina, Arabella’s mother, curls her hand over the one I left hanging before tugging Arabella in closer like she has more say than my soon-to-be wife. “Kolya is confident it will increase your father’s lead in the latest polls by two percent.”

She gleams like I should be impressed.

I am far from it.

Her response is the exact reason I want to return my family name to the notoriety it once held. My ancestors didn’t hold press conferences to settle a debate on who is the most powerful. They battled like Vikings and siphoned enough blood from their enemies’ veins to fill the rivers of Russia.

They could marry who they wanted, when they wanted, without the absurdity of multiple events in the lead-up to the exchange of vows they had no plan to uphold.

It wasn’t about giving constituencies something to discuss around the watercooler with the hope of securing their vote at the next election.

They did what they wanted when they wanted.

So as you can imagine, it took everything I had to pretend I’m fine with the federation’s decision to refuse to acknowledge any paperwork I endorsed this morning until my family’s dynasty receives some sort of shebang from my fuckup, and that a future presidential puppet wasn’t conceived last night.

The only reason I agreed to go along with their suggestions was because Zoya was leaving my premises faster than my sleep-deprived head could come up with a better solution.

My smarts dip when I’m tired.

They’re wholly obliterated when my dick takes over the reins.

It wants Zoya as much as I do, and although my “marriage” will have her vying to deny her attraction to me, she won’t ever pull the wool over my eyes.

Betrothed or not, she wants me.

Her thirst is as obvious as the front row of journalists hoping they’re misreading the brief my grandfather’s head of staff is giving them. They’d rather I announce a bid for candidacy than an alteration to my relationship status.

Though I doubt either revelation will simmer their efforts for an exclusive for long. I’m propositioned more by members of the media than by any other field.

Freebies from high-end prostitutes is a close second.

Desperate for two seconds of peace so I can work through some of my confusion, I head for the podium-like stage my father’s team would have ensured was covered with his campaign flyers seconds after being erected.

Arabella and her mother fall into step behind me when I tap the microphone to announce the start of the conference I was unaware would be occurring this morning, much less with the scent of another woman’s arousal on my cock and lips.

With my thoughts immediately veering to how delicious Zoya tastes, I keep my statement as brief as the one Dina issued earlier in my office before I step back to allow the press the opportunity of adding images to the featured stories they’ll run within the hour.

When the flash of cameras doesn’t reach one tenth of the glare Zoya and Mikhail’s entrance caused, my grandfather’s chief of staff leans into my side and mutters, “It needs to look authentic. If it doesn’t, call this off now and tell your grandfather you’ve changed your mind. A loveless marriage will turn voters off even more than your father forever knocking up his mistresses.”

Word to the wise, don’t mock a man who has nothing to lose.

It never ends well.

Kolya is seconds from learning that the hard way before he distracts me by nudging his head in the direction Zoya went. “Let’s just hopetheydon’t blame her for the first out-of-wedlock bastard birthed into the Dokovic realm if the procedure last night was effective.”

He doesn’t need to announce who is behind his underhanded threat. The shakiness of his voice tells me everything I need to know.

He fears the wrath of the federation and believes I should depict the same trepidation.

I will never bow at the feet of an organization so cowardly they refuse to show their faces. But since I can’t announce that yet, against the protests of my cock and the small snippets of morals my mother drummed into me before she was forcefully removed from my life, I band my arm around Arabella’s slim waist and tug her into my side.

A vein in her neck thuds louder than Kolya’s relieved sigh when I tilt our hips with an intimacy only someone who has bedded her would have before I brush my nose against hers.

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