Page 38 of Forced Marriage Vows

The blushing bride is, in fact, not blushing. I’d say she’s more of an angry bride. Anastasia hasn’t looked me in the eye since our kiss two days ago—a kiss I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. Anthony walks her down the aisle and she looks like a vision in her dress.

But the frown on her face makes it clear to everyone that she would rather be anywhere else. As is customary in weddings like this, the entire Bratva have made it their business to attend, to watch and observe. Some members of the Cosa Nostra are here as well, including the Don.

“Smile, Anastasia,” I say to her when she’s in front of me.

If anything, her frown deepens even further. I tried to talk to her before the wedding but she made it clear she has no interest in speaking to me. She seems to be harboring a grudge. Which is beyond me because from what I remember, the kiss was consensual and she seemed to enjoy it. If the sounds she was making were any indication.

Those sounds… fuck. The way her body responded to mine. The way her nails raked across my skin. The woman is like my own personal torture device. And I would forever subject myself to her mercy if she’d only let me kiss her again.

I want to claim her as mine. But first I need to break down all the walls she seems intent on building to keep me out.

The ceremony goes by in a blur. When the priest announces that I may kiss the bride, Anastasia turns her cheek, letting me place a kiss there instead. I chuckle as I pull away. There’s no doubt in the mind of anyone present that she’s not a willing participant in the wedding. I wonder if that’s exactly what she’s trying to accomplish.

At the reception, she makes a point of avoiding me. I have to cut into a discussion between her and Ivan’s wife, Lucia, to get her to speak to me. She turns to me with a sigh once the other woman leaves.

“I know what you’re doing,solnyshko.”

“I doubt that,” she murmurs.

“This anger is an act. You don’t want your father to think you’re betraying him by allowing this marriage. That little show at the wedding was to make sure that he wouldn’t think you were on my side.”

She arches an eyebrow “What little show?”

I lean down to whisper in her ear. “You didn’t let me kiss you, Anastasia. When I know without a doubt that your body aches for my touch.”

To prove it, I place a hand on her waist. She shivers at the contact, making me smile.

“Be angry all you want, Anastasia. You and I both know you enjoyed the kiss.”

She pushes my hand away, glaring up at me. “I see we’re back to being delusional.”

The only person being delusional here is her. But I decide to let that go. For now.

“Back to your father,” I drawl. “I’m curious, exactly what has he done to inspire such blind loyalty?”

She makes a face like the question confuses her.

“He’s my father,” she answers simply, like the simple fact that he gave her DNA should be reason enough to excuse his behavior.

“You know he doesn’t really care about you, right?” I ask. “If he did, he would have tried to fight for you. I was expecting it. I thought he would at least show up at the church. But he didn’t. Has he even tried to contact you?”

She clenches her jaw and looks away, which is enough of an answer.

“He’s not who you think he is, Anastasia,” I say softly. “As soon as Anthony heard the news, he got on a plane and flewstraight here. He pulled a gun on me. You and I both know your brother doesn’t like guns. But he pulled one on me.

“Anthony came here because he knew you wouldn’t kill him,” she says through gritted teeth. “My father can be accorded no such protection.”

“I don’t care. I’d rather he was safe anyway.”

He sighs, “Fine. Keep protecting him. Let’s see how long that lasts.”

I’m called away by one of thesoldatywho wants to check in about the security at the event. Anastasia heads over to talk to her friends.

As far as weddings go, this one has been reasonably calm. Nothing too dramatic. But before we leave, Ivan requests an audience. By his side are Nicolas Ramirez and Adrian Rossi.

“Gentlemen,” I greet.

“Happy wedding, Morozova,” Adrian greets, smiling without teeth. “But I hope you haven’t forgotten our deal.”

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