Page 37 of Forced Marriage Vows

Mihail kisses me like I’m the air he needs to breathe. Like any second he’s going to topple over the edge of a cliff and fall to his death, and that this kiss, this moment is the only thing that will save him. I feel flustered, unraveled, and a part of me can’t believe I’m letting this happen.

I think I’m drowning.

His heated tongue darts cleverly against the inside of my lips, curling around mine. He makes a noise at the back of his throat that I feel vibrate in my mouth, and there’s a certain hunger in his touch that I can feel acutely spreading through me as well.

Just before I beg him to take me, to fuck me, a sharp ringing cuts through the air. It’s like we’re both doused with cold water. I wrench away from him and Mikhail stumbles back. He stares at me for a second in shock. I’m breathing heavily, my entire body trembling as the weight of what just happened descends on me.

The ringing continues and he curses under his breath, pulling his phone out of his back pocket. He stares at it for a second like he’s about to throw it over the edge of the building. Then his eyes flutter shut and he slips it back into his pocket. Helooks at me then, his gaze clearer, like he’s more in control. I’m still standing in shock.

“Anastasia,” he starts.

It’s his voice that jolts me out of it. I put a hand up to stop him from walking toward me, from speaking.

“This never happened.” I say the words determinedly, convincingly.

He looks like he’s going to say something else but I don’t give him a chance. I do something I know I’m going to regret later.

I run.

CHAPTER 12

Mikhail

The wedding takes place in a cathedral.

Which is complete overkill and entirely unnecessary. But choosing the wedding venue was the only thing I let my father be involved in. He practically begged me to let him, so I did, and now we’re both standing quietly in one of the rooms provided for us in the cathedral while I wait to be called to the altar. If it were up to me, he wouldn’t be here at all.

The silence in the room is broken when he decides to speak. “Do you know why I chose this church?”

“No. And I don’t particularly care,” I murmur, my gaze fixed on my phone. He’s not deterred, however.

“I chose this cathedral because this is where I was married. Your grandfather as well. He’s the one who brought our family here—he’s the reason we’re a part of the Bratva. Why you have the chance to become Pakhan today.”

I arch an eyebrow. “What am I supposed to do with this information?”

“You and I have always had our differences, Mikhail. I understand you don’t care much for me, but I’m still your father. And I’m standing at your side on this momentous occasion. Surely that has to count for something.”

“It doesn’t,” I assure him, feeling my jaw tighten. “And do you really want to know my biggest problem with you, Father? It’s the way you consistently brush off why our relationship is like this. We don’t have ‘differences.’ You drove my mother to her death and I had to stand there and watch! I was a ten-year-old standing in a pool of his mother’s blood and you weren’t there. You didn’t give a fuck. So don’t fucking stand there and say that I don’t care much for you. I fucking despise you and I feel nothing towards you.”

My words are scathing but they have the intended effect. His expression shutters and after a couple of seconds of glaring at me, he leaves. Once he’s gone, I let out a sharp breath. One day, I’ll deal with my feelings about my father, but that day won’t be today.

Anthony takes my father’s place once he’s gone. “I may have heard some of that,” he says apologetically.

I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. Is everything ready?”

“Yes, all the preparations are in place and no one seems to be pulling out any guns or screaming bloody murder. But there’s time yet for that.” He smirks.

“You look good for a best man,” I tell him with a short nod.

He’s wearing a black three-piece suit. I’m in a similar one, except mine is white.

“Is this the part where I offer encouraging words of support and wish you a happy married life?” he asks. “Because I’m not going to do that. You’re getting your way now, Mikhail. But if you harm a single hair on her head, I’ll murder you. Do you understand?”

I have no doubt that he would. The only person who could drive Anthony to murder would be his sister.

“I’ll take care of her, brother,” I promise.

He seems to grow more at ease at that. “Well, come on then. Time to see the blushing bride.”

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