Page 17 of Knocked Up By the Russian

Sooner than she thought it would be, Mikhail handed her over to Ivan, and the officiant began the ceremony. Amy barely heard him over the buzzing in her ears, her focus on the sweat forming in her shoes and down her spine. There was nothing comfortable about this—it's too late to stop it.

Next to her, Ivan appeared calm and composed—a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling within her. He reached for her hands, his tattooed fingers bare of any rings for the first time in her memory, and her stomach fluttered.It's just nerves,she told herself, hoping to soothe her anxious heart. But with every sentence, the atmosphere thickened. It left her breathless and on the cusp of fainting.

"—Amy Spencer, do you take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," she stammered, drowning in Ivan's ocean-blue eyes. He was smirking, she realized almost hysterically.Why the hell is he smirking?

"Please repeat after me," she heard the officiant say, his voice swimming in her mind only to be replaced by Ivan's solemn declaration. His vows.

"I, Ivan Nikolai, take you, Amy Spencer, to be my wife. To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish."

A dimple appeared in his cheek as he paused, and Amy blinked, her body frozen.Just say it!

"Until death do us part."

Licking her suddenly dry lips, Amy croaked her own vows when the time came, her whole body trembling as one of the groomsmen provided the rings.

When her ring was placed on her finger, Amy stared at it in alien wonder. The thin platinum wedding band held three deep purple amethysts in sharp rectangle cuts, and her spinninghead vaguely realized they were far bigger than the earrings she'd worn for that day. A carat—maybe more each.Too much...

"Breathe," Ivan whispered, fingers stroking her own. Amy jolted at the touch, swinging her gaze to his. Oranges and bourbon filled her lungs with panicked breaths, only to be taken away the moment the officiant said: "You may kiss the bride."

Her knees weakened as Ivan's tattooed hand, wearing only his wedding band, gripped her jaw and pulled her close. His lips met hers, and she inhaled. One breath whispered from her lips the second he deepened the kiss, parting them with his tongue. It would have been a cliché to say that sparks flickered across her vision—but they did, and no matter how much she tried to ignore the heat coiling in her belly, Amy couldn't.

Kissing Ivan left her reeling, and she reached toward his chest, gripping the lapels of his suit in clenched fists to keep her balance. Something ignited inside her—annoyance, perhaps. But the thought was gone with a stroke of his tongue, and before she could think any further about how his touch left her feeling, he'd already pulled away.

"I now pronounce you, husband and wife!" the officiator announced, and loud whoops and clapping reached her ears as Amy blinked open her eyes and stared up at him. Ivan...her husband.

For the next six months, she reminded herself as he nudged her forward with a palm on the small of her back.

Flower petals cascaded over them and Amy glared at the floor to avoid meeting anyone's eyes.What the fuck just happened?

Ivan led her into the reception hall and to a seat at the largest table. This place shimmered with decorations similar to the previous hall, but Amy didn't feel like the main focusanymore as people spread out at the tables, popping champagne and laughing. Dim lights twinkled above like stars, and tables were adorned with lavish centerpieces of roses and candles. She stared at it all with a detached expression.

"Just breathe," Ivan murmured, his body interrupting her sight as he pretended to press a kiss to her cheek. "You look like you're about to faint. We just need to sit here for another hour, and I'll take you home."

Home?Amy's thoughts echoed incredulously. Home wasn't his apartment; it was her little apartment in downtown Chicago or her mother's house, where she normally went once a week for family dinner and movie nights. Not his place.Never his place.Not that it mattered because Ivan was right; she still had to play the part of the blushing bride for another hour. She didn't know how the hell he was convincing everyone so easily when she struggled so badly. Her adrenaline rush was starting to crash and she felt like passing out.

Her mother joined them a moment later, squealing about the decorations, and Amy tried on a smile. "It really is beautiful," she murmured as Ivan's expression turned playful.

"Why don't I let you ladies chat, and I'll go grab you a drink, wife."

"Sure,husband," Amy spoke through gritted teeth, her focus sharpening with her ire. He snickered and left, joining the rest of the Nikolai men and Kostya at the bar.

"That man must really love you to prepare all of this on such short notice," her mother teased, her green eyes sparkling under the fairy lights.

No,Amy thought bitterly.He's just a damn good actor.Unsure how to respond, she was relieved when a flustered Zia appeared from the crowd and spoke for her.

"Vanya did a great job," she agreed as she sat down in the seat meant for Ivan. "I swear, I got like five hundred calls from him this week to double-check if things were right."

What?Amy thought distractedly, but Zia's arms were wrapped around Alexander, and he babbled, chubby arms reaching for Amy the second he was close enough. She let Zia pass him over and cuddled him close to her chest. Alexander refused to sit and instead wobbled himself into a standing position. She let him, her mind occupied as she wrapped an arm around his waist to make sure he didn't fall.

She'd known Ivan was planning their wedding, but the lengths he'd gone to still didn't make sense to her—fabric swatches and wedding magazines. Hell, he'd even brought the cake testing to her while she was on a call with Brittany. Thinking back on it all made her feel a little guilty... She and Ivan had come to an agreement this morning—but Amy hadn't been very agreeable this past week. In fact, she'd purposely been a bitch. She knew that.

"Those boys!" her mother murmured, pulling her from her thoughts, and Amy glanced over to see wrinkles appearing on her forehead. "Oh, no."

"Leave them. They're having fun." Amy smiled as she saw her brothers dart around the guests and toward the cupcakes being set out. A wry smile flickered across her lips before she glanced away, meeting the eyes of a man who looked vaguely familiar. The memory of a gunshot rang in her ears, and her breath hissed out. It was one of the men who shot that man.Boris, she recalled vaguely. Her vision swam in and out of focus, and Amy just barely heard her mom complaining about the boys' behavior.

God, she'd known the Bratva would be attending, but she hadn't realized any ofthemwould be here. Zia's hand wrapped around hers, and she blinked, inhaling sharply.

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