Page 65 of Viripotent

Not letting go of my anger, I tilt my chin up and point out what Vlad is missing.

“You share girls with your brothers and she’s not a kid, I’m younger than her.”

I already found out her details from the gallery manager, but I don’t tell him that. It would make me seem irrational or crazy and I’d rather not open that box just yet.

He cups my cheek and strokes my lip as he shakes his head like I’m purposefully being ignorant.

“She’s a kid, ask Vitali about her when we get home.”

My lips curl up in disgust at the thought of discussing Vlad’s, or his brother’s, sexual habits. They’re the people I sit with when the brooding devil disappears and I actually like them. I don’t need the image of what they do with their parts. The revulsion weaves through my words as I ask, “You want me to ask your brothers about women they’ve had sex with?”

I move my head back like it could possibly stop him putting his hand over my mouth.

He shakes his head again and exasperation fills him as he frees my hands and hold my thighs.

“She was his best friend, the first kid who spoke to him when we moved here. No one touched her like that in our house, he would have threw a fit.”

Searching his features for a lie is pointless when he’s so good at it, but there’s one weakness he has. His family are everything and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt them. He checks they’re all sleeping safely every night, and even his asshole ways are without any heat with Viktor.

I push away any embarrassment and go to sit back in my seat like my reaction was normal. I’m on my knees with my ass in the air when he pulls on my thighs, sitting me down and reiterates what’s not needed.

“I meant what I said. This marriage will be built on agreements and clauses. But I expect your loyalty, meelaya.”

There’s no love in our world, not between parents and children. Especially not between a husband and wife. But loyalty is more, it’s rooted in respect, and I hold his shoulders, demanding the same.

“Whatever you do, I will give you with interest. You treat me with respect, I’ll play my part so well Grandfather won’t spot the lie. You fuck one person, I fuck ten and make you watch. I’ll even record it, so it plays on a loop whenever I feel like it.”

There’s no lie, I will treat him the same as he treats me. I’ll always give more though, especially if it’s fueled by anger.

Holding my thighs tighter, Vlad doesn’t issue a threat and shakes his head, agreeing with me. I can’t help gloating and flick my hair over my shoulder as pride fills me.

“Told you I was a queen. If you do what I say I’ll make you a king.”

The usually icy eyes warm and there’s an emotion I’ve never seen on his features. It’s not happiness or anything that I can name as he smiles at me and kisses my cheek. He gently lifts meoff his thighs and places me back in my seat without being an asshole or making a stupid comment.

Standingin the bridal room of the Cathedral, Stasya touches up her make-up and pops her lips, making sure her lipstick is perfect. She’s the only person, other than Misha, who I grew up with and that child part of me remembered our pact to be each other’s bridesmaids when we were seven years old.

There are no nerves on my wedding day, I always thought I’d be afraid, but I know the biggest monster will be at the end of the aisle. Grandfather comes in, making the usual socialite party girl turn into a respectful junior as she slips out, leaving us alone. There’s emotion in his eyes as he holds my hands and kisses my cheeks.

“You look beautiful radnaya, you’ve made an old man very proud.”

It’s a declaration of love as much as saying the three words and I swallow around the lump building in my throat.

It won’t be looked at as controversial that my father isn’t walking me down the aisle with Grandfather being Pakhan, but the decision wasn’t based on any hierarchy. If we weren’t Bratva, I’d still pick him because he’s the only father I’ve ever known. I kiss his cheek and wipe away the lipstick mark as he stands at my side and holds his arm out for me.

The nerves come as soon as we’re threaded together. I don’t want to walk out in front of the cathedral packed with people and see every face who means nothing to me. He pats my hand as though he can sense my thoughts, and one whispered word has my spine straightening before we step out of the doors.

“Sila.”

It’s the same whisper I got when I’d cry about being left somewhere, the reminder that I’m strong. I’m powerful, and everything my father didn’t inherit skipped a generation, doubling in me.The doors open as I nod and hold my chin up with my shoulders straight.

Misha winks at me from his guard post and Grandfather gestures for the door to be closed with two fingers in a sweeping motion. I don’t know what I could have done wrong, but he waits for us to be cut off from anyone else to turn to me. He’s older, in my head he’s still the same man who would sit me on his shoulders while he worked behind his desk and let me sleep with my cheek pressed against his dark blond, nearly brown, hair. I never noticed that it’s all nearly gray now, and he morphs in my mind’s eye from the strong dedka to an aging Pakhan.

He holds my hands between his and speaks as softly as he’s able to.

“Will you be happy with the Vartanovs, Ineska?”

I try to remove the heat from my reply, and it only weakens my voice.

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