Page 16 of Savage Obsession

And then I see him.

Aithan stands at the altar, his broad shoulders straight and his expression unreadable. He’s dressed in a black suit that fits him too perfectly, exuding authority and power. But it’s his face that catches my attention. His scowl deepens as Leon leans in to whisper something in his ear. Whatever it is, it’s enough to make his jaw clench and his pewter-gold eyes flash with irritation.

Well, isn’t that just charming? My groom can’t even muster a pleasant expression for the occasion. Determined to set the tone for our union, I wipe every trace of emotion from my own face. As I reach the altar, I meet his gaze head-on, daring him to flinch.

He doesn’t. Instead, he forces a grin that looks more like a snarl. I roll my eyes at him, the tiniest smirk playing at my lips. If he thinks he can intimidate me, he’s about to be well disappointed.

The officiant clears his throat, beginning the ceremony. His words drift over me like a distant hum as I focus on the man standing beside me. I can feel the tension radiating from him, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of reacting. If he wants to play this game, I’ll play it better.

“Do you choose each other as partners for life?” the officiant asks, his voice cutting through the quiet.

“I do,” Aithan says, his voice low and firm.

All eyes turn to me. “I do,” I reply, my tone just as steady.

There’s a faint murmur of approval from the crowd, but the officiant doesn’t pause. He moves on to the next question, the one that’s supposed to seal the emotional bond of this union.

“Do you promise to love and cherish each other for the rest of your days?”

I turn to face Aithan fully, my gaze locking onto his. The weight of the question hangs in the air, but I don’t falter. “I promise to stay by him and respect him,” I say, my voice clear and deliberate.

Aithan’s eyes narrow slightly, the tiniest flicker of surprise crossing his face before it’s gone. He doesn’t miss the fact that I’ve evaded the promise of love, and I don’t care. Love isn’t part of this equation. Respect? Sure. Duty? Absolutely. But love? That’s a luxury we both will not be indulging in.

The officiant hesitates for a fraction of a second before continuing, clearly unsure how to handle my unconventional response. The ceremony concludes with the exchange of rings, and as Aithan slides the band onto my finger, I feel the cold metal settle into place—a symbol of everything this marriage represents. When it’s my turn, I take his hand, slipping the ring onto his finger with deliberate precision. His skin is warm, his hand steady, but his eyes never leave mine. There’s a challenge in them, one I can’t quite decipher.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant announces.

For a moment, neither of us moves. The room holds its breath, the tension almost tangible. Then Aithan steps forward, his hand cupping my jaw as he lowers his head. The kiss is brief, almost clinical, but there’s an undercurrent of possession in the way his thumb brushes against my cheek. I allow it, meeting his gaze as he pulls away.

The applause erupts, breaking the moment. I turn to face the crowd, my arm linked with his as we begin our procession down the aisle. The weight of the day settles over me, but I refuse to let it show. This marriage should have been way less ceremonial, but both sides had decided it is best to have a resemblance of a formal celebration to send across the point that this union is as solid as it gets.

8

Aithan

The reception is subdued, a quiet celebration where power and diplomacy dance behind every polite smile. The leaders of both the Bratva and theEllinikimingle, exchanging pleasantries that mask the tension simmering just beneath the surface. I stand near the edge of the room, nursing a glass of whiskey, and watch Yelena talk to some guests. She’s the center of attention, as she should be, her elegance demanding the respect of everyone in attendance.

She’s barely looked at me since the ceremony, and for some reason, that grates on me. Not that I want her fawning over me, but… something about her cool indifference has me on edge. It’s like she’s already figured out how to play this game better than I expected.

“Congratulations, Aithan.” Leon’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. He claps me on the shoulder, his grin as irritating as ever. “Married life suits you. You’ve already got that brooding husband thing down pat.”

“Go bother someone else,” I mutter, not in the mood for his antics.

Leon chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, cousin. It’s a big day. Try to enjoy it.”

As he walks away, I catch sight of the Bratva man called Nikolai approaching Yelena. He is an imposing figure, his presence commanding attention even in a room full of powerful men. He was her father’s right-hand man, and from what I’ve heard, he’s fiercely loyal to the Makarov family. I watch as he nods his head slightly at her, a rare show of deference, and speaks to her in low tones.

“You’ve done something remarkable,” I hear him say as I move closer. “Aligning the Bratva with the Greeks is no small feat. Your father would be proud.”

Yelena’s expression softens, but only slightly. “This is what he wanted,” she replies. “I’m just finishing what he started.”

Nikolai nods, his gaze steady. “It’s a brave thing you’re doing, Yelena. Not many would make the sacrifices you have.”

She offers him a polite smile, but there’s steel beneath it. “Thank you, Nikolai. I appreciate your support.”

I drain the rest of my whiskey, the burn doing little to settle the strange mix of emotions churning in my chest. Sacrifices. That word sticks with me. She’s giving up just as much as I am, maybe more. And yet, she’s carrying it with a grace that’s… unsettling. It makes me feel like I’m the one who needs to prove something.

The hotel suite is quiet when we arrive, the soft click of the door echoing in the stillness. It’s a stark contrast to the noise and chaos of the reception, and I’m grateful for the reprieve. Yelena walks ahead of me, her movements fluid and unhurried, as if she owns the space. Maybe she does. She certainly owns the air in the room.

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