Page 13 of Accidental Bratva Daddy

I want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Alright? My father is dead, my uncle is apparently a crime lord, and I've just agreed to marry the man responsible for turning my world upside down. But instead, I just nod.

"I'm fine," I lie. "Just... processing things."

Luka studies me for a moment longer, then seems to come to a decision. "Come on," he says, taking my hand. "Let's get you out of this basement. You'll stay in one of the guest rooms from now on. It's more fitting for my fiancée."

The word sends a jolt through me. Fiancée. What have I gotten myself into?

As Luka leads me up the stairs and into the main part of the house, my mind races with the implications of what I've just done. I've tied myself to a dangerous man, a criminal, a killer. But I've also secured protection for my family, a shield against whatever storm is coming our way.

And deep down, in a part of myself I'm not ready to examine too closely, I can't deny the thrill that runs through me at the thought of being Luka's wife. The attraction between us is undeniable, a force as powerful and dangerous as Luka himself.

As we reach the top of the stairs, Luka pauses, turning to face me. His eyes search mine, filled with an intensity that takes my breath away. "Thank you, Natalia," he says softly. "I know this isn't easy for you. But I promise, I'll make it worth your while."

The double meaning in his words isn't lost on me. I swallow hard, heat pooling low in my belly despite my best efforts to remain detached. "I'll hold you to that," I manage to say.

Luka's lips curve into a predatory smile that sends shivers down my spine. "Oh, I'm counting on it."

As he leads me deeper into the house, towards my new life as Luka Volkov's fiancée, I can't shake the feeling that I've just made a deal with the devil himself. But whether it will be my salvation or my damnation remains to be seen.

7

Luka

The soft strains of a string quartet fill the air as I adjust my cufflinks, standing at the altar in a fitted tux that's a departure from my usual dark attire. The deep mauve fabric catches the light, giving off a subtle sheen that speaks of wealth and refinement. It's all part of the illusion we're crafting today.

I scan the small, intimate venue I've rented for this charade. Every detail has been meticulously planned, from the lush floral arrangements to the soft glow of candles scattered throughout the space. The scent of roses and lilies hangs heavy in the air, almost cloying in its sweetness. The guests—all hired actors playing the roles of our closest friends and family—mill about, chatting and laughing as if this were any normal wedding.

But there's nothing normal about this day.

I insisted on making it look as real as possible. If people were going to believe our story, we had to sell it. And I'm nothing ifnot thorough. The venue, a converted mansion on the outskirts of Moscow, is picture-perfect. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the polished hardwood floors. Garlands of white roses and baby's breath adorn every surface, their delicate petals a stark contrast to the danger that lurks just beneath this facade of romance.

A hush falls over the crowd as the wedding march begins. I turn, my breath catching in my throat as Natalia appears at the end of the aisle. She's a vision in white, her A-line gown hugging every curve before flaring out at her hips. Delicate lace sleeves cover her arms, and a gauzy veil obscures her face. The dress is a masterpiece, clearly designer—I made sure of that. Nothing but the best for my bride, even if this is all for show.

She's breathtaking. And she looks like she'd rather be anywhere else in the world.

As Natalia glides down the aisle, I can see the tension in her shoulders, the tightness around her eyes. To anyone else, she might look like a blushing bride with a case of nerves.

But I know better. Every step she takes is filled with reluctance, maybe even resentment. Her eyes dart around the room, taking in the elaborate decorations, the faces of our "guests," and I can practically hear the scathing commentary running through her mind.

It should bother me, her obvious distaste for this whole affair. But instead, I find myself oddly amused. Her fire, her stubbornness—it's part of what drew me to her in the first place. And now, watching her approach with that barely concealed irritation, I'm reminded of just how captivating she truly is.

Natalia reaches the altar, and I offer her my hand. She takes it, her grip just a little too tight to be comfortable. I have to suppress a smirk at her small act of defiance. Even now, in front of all these people, she can't help but push back against me.

"You look stunning," I murmur, pitching my voice low so only she can hear.

Natalia's eyes narrow slightly. "Let's just get this over with," she replies through gritted teeth, her smile never wavering for the benefit of our audience.

It’s all brimstone and fire with this lovely woman, but that translates well to the bedroom. I already know she’s attracted to me physically, at least, as I’ve had a taste of her passion before our next unfortunate encounter.

But although there’s a stark disadvantage to killing a woman’s father in front of her, a benefit has come out of it that’s simply undeniable. I get to marry her, and even now, it all feels like a dream.

The officiant begins the ceremony, his voice resonating through the space with practiced solemnity. I tune out most of it, my focus entirely on the woman beside me. Natalia stands ramrod straight, her posture almost militaristic in its rigidity. Every few moments, I catch her stifling an eye roll or biting back a sigh.

It's entertaining, really. Here we are, surrounded by the trappings of a fairytale wedding, and my bride looks like she's enduring some form of medieval torture. But even in her obvious discomfort, she's mesmerizing. The sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows catches on her auburn hair, setting it ablaze with golden highlights. Her skin seems to glow, thecreamy expanse of her neck and shoulders a temptation I can barely resist.

I find my mind wandering to our night together in the hotel, before everything went to hell. The memory of her soft skin under my hands, the taste of her lips, the sounds she made as she came undone beneath me—it all comes rushing back, sending a jolt of heat through my body. I shift slightly, trying to focus on the present moment.

When it comes time for the vows, I turn to face Natalia fully. Her eyes meet mine, a challenge burning in those emerald depths. I begin to recite the words we'd agreed upon—flowery declarations of love and devotion that sound hollow even to my own ears.

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