Page 21 of His to Ruin

“Mila wants a meeting.”

“Mila Lenkova?” I ask as if it would be anyone but her. Along with her brothers, the Bratva queen is one of our closest allies. Sev and I are part of a European syndicate that works together to ensure our organizations remain profitable. The Italian branch of Olivia’s family belongs as well.

“Yeah. She suggested Marseilles the day after tomorrow. I’ll make your excuses.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Uh, your honeymoon.” He says that like it’s a given I would take time off to spend with my new bride. I have no such intentions. Olivia will have to understand from day one that I’m a busy man. My personal life takes a back seat to business.

“That can wait.”

Sev shoots me a look of disapproval, but I doubt he’d skip an important meeting for the sake of a woman either.

“Get back to Mila.” I decide to compromise. “Tell her Paris would be more convenient.”

I had arranged for my plane to take me and Olivia to London tonight. The Reznov organization recently acquired a five-star hotel in Knightsbridge and I wanted to check it out, but we can easily divert to Paris. If Olivia has the fashion capital of the world to explore, she’s less likely to cause a fuss over my refusal to put business on hold for her.

“Paris would be good,” Sev agrees. “We can meet at my place.”

He reaches into his pocket, but before he can grab his phone, the wedding officiant, Judge Brentwood, moves into position in front of us. The Volantes’ choice of a female judge to perform the ceremony surprises me. I’d expected them to rope in their family priest. Perhaps they thought it would offend me and my uncle if they chose a Catholic priest over a Russian Orthodox one. If that was the case, they had no need to worry. I rarely set foot in a church and Boris is no hypocrite. He’d never claim to be a godly man.

Everyone turns as the bridesmaids, Emilia Volante and Alessia Davis, come into the room. The harpist plays as Olivia follows on Matteo’s arm. I’m completely stunned, and not just because she deigned to be on time.

Olivia has always been gorgeous, but today she’s hit a new peak. There are no words to describe how breathtaking she is. She’s like a faerie queen in that white dress. Shimmering satinoverlaid with lace clings to her curves then billows out from her waist.

Silver flowers adorn her hair and she’s wearing subtle makeup that accentuates her natural beauty. When I imagined Olivia walking down the aisle, I pictured her with dark, heavy eyes and crimson lips. I expected her to wear her dress like a shield.

Seeing her so soft and feminine throws me off balance. My bride is spectacular. I realize for the first time how much power this woman could wield over me if I let her.

As Matteo kisses her cheek and steps aside, he gives me a curt nod. He may be handing his sister over to me, but he isn’t happy about it. I get that. He knows me well enough to understand I’m not the sort of man to coddle a woman. Olivia’s days of being a pampered princess are over. If she’s going to be my queen, she’ll have to prove herself worthy.

Judge Brentwood gives a short spiel about the importance of love and marriage. It takes effort not to roll my eyes. Nobody here believes this is a love match. As the judge feeds me the vows I need to repeat, I study Olivia’s body language and facial expression. There’s a heady mix of fear and determination emanating from my lovely bride. It’s clear from the trembling of her fingers and the rapid blinking of her eyes that she’s afraid. Her resolve not to give in to her fear shows in the clenching of her fists and the way her lips press together.

When it’s Olivia’s turn to recite her vows, her voice is calm. She sounds almost eager to marry me. I listen intently until we come to the words I’ve been waiting to hear. Following my instructions, Judge Brentwood asks Olivia to love, honor, and obey me.

Shoulders stiffening, Olivia tries to cut me with her glare. She’s obviously guessed I was the one who asked for the traditional vows rather than something more modern. Several seconds pass in which I almost hear the string of curses whirring through her mind. Then her lips twitch as the merest hint of a smile forms.

“To love, honor, and support from this day forward.”

The room thrums with nervous anticipation as everyone waits to see how I’ll react. Despite our frequent business dealings, none of the Volantes really knows me. They’re on edge in case I take offense and lash out at Olivia. Honestly, I’m amused by the little minx. I’d have been disappointed if my new bride had vowed to obey me. It’s much more fun if she challenges me. Besides, she promised to support me and I intend to hold her to that.

“Please continue,” I tell the judge, and the atmosphere in the room decompresses.

Olivia and I exchange the wedding bands Sev had in his safekeeping for us. He was surprised I decided to wear a ring, but for me there was no question. As much as I want the world to know Olivia is taken, I want to show the world I’m now a married man. It’s a sign I’m ready to assume the mantle of leadership and also of how seriously I take my vows.

After I slip the ring on her finger, the judge declares us husband and wife and instructs me to kiss Olivia. Unlike some men, I don’t feel the need to publicly stamp ownership on my wife. Everyone here knows who she belongs to. By the end of the evening, so will she.

I lean in and brush my lips over hers. It’s a brief, passionless kiss. As I pull back, Olivia arches a slim eyebrow in question. I think I detect disappointment in her eyes. She doesn’t dwell onit, though. She takes the hand I offer her, and I lead her back down the aisle, accepting congratulations as we go.

When we get out into the corridor, Olivia leads me to the living room. It’s decorated in a similar feminine style to the house in New York, but this time in a palette of blues and creams.

“We can wait in here until it’s time for our big entrance at the reception,” she tells me.

I nod as I close the door behind me, sealing out the rest of the world. I spin her around to face me. “You’re mine now,malyskha.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.” Her tone is sulky. Does she want me to claim her with my kiss? Now that we’re alone, I’m happy to oblige.

Stepping closer, I grab a handful of her hair, not caring if I tug it loose from the elegant knot it’s been gathered into. I pull Olivia against me and this time as my lips meet hers, there’s nothing gentle about it. My kiss is demanding, possessive. As I tilt her head back, her mouth opens on a gasp and I push my tongue past her lips.

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