Page 9 of The Bratva's Arranged Virgin Bride
Chapter 5 - Kolya
Everything was falling into place, and so much faster than I could have hoped. The Fokins' ease in agreeing to an alliance increased my already normal suspicions of them, because I already knew they’d never accept a Mikhailov into the fold. Arkadi had been trying to win them over for months, and they were still icing him out.
Defeating them completely was the only way, and for that, I needed all their secrets. I didn’t love the idea of being married to one of them, but they had assured me it was only business.
I laughed as I pulled out my phone and dialed my brother's contact. The Fokins always thought they had the upper hand, and were always several steps ahead. It was impossible that they believed I was coming to them wanting a true alliance, but we’d do the dance until one of us got what we wanted.
That was going to be me.
I didn’t exactly expect Arkadi to be fully on board with my plan, at least not right away. I did, however, expect him to at least take my calls. Letting the first one go to voicemail might have been bad timing, but he ignored the next three calls as well. So much for riding high on the success of my brilliant plan.
After finally committing to the Mikhailov name after all these years, I was still out in the cold. The next day, I woke up to a text message. Curt and to the point.
Leave us alone. I’ll deal with the Fokins my own way.
I clicked off the phone and went to sit outside, where the ocean breezes might blow away the bad mood that single line put me in. Arkadi wasn’t even curious about what I was up to. He simply didn’t care. Or he didn’t think I could accomplish what hehadn’t been able to do. I had expected him to get on board once he knew I was getting married to one of the Fokins in a few days, come around, and start planning with me.
The memories I had of us as kids went back too far to mean much, since we’d been separated when he was twelve and I was ten. We were as different as night and day, true, but we were still brothers. When Father didn’t have his watchful eye on Arkadi, he was my ally, my friend. There had been many moments of laughter between us. After the divorce was settled, I’d go with our mother; he even promised me it wouldn’t be forever.
Of course, he had only been twelve, and our father was ruthless. He’d allowed a few visits to wherever we were currently living outside of Russia, but they were always monitored. When our mother saw how he was being raised, more like a soldier than a child, she made a brief plan to kidnap him. Needless to say, that didn’t work out so well, and it was only the fact that my father didn’t want to have to deal with me that he let her live.
So I didn’t blame Arkadi for how he ended up, but it still pissed me off. I decided not to tell him about the wedding. Let him find out on his own from his new, beloved family. Or not. I was sick of working so hard and not being recognized.
In the days leading up to the wedding, I kept myself busy with the new art gallery I bought. Its reputation was pristine despite it never prospering, and I meant to use that for my own gain. It was in a perfect spot, a new, upscale shopping area that was gaining popularity fast. Just as soon as I could find a fresh crew of “artists,” I’d have my favorite side hustle up and running again.
As rich as I was and with so many other businesses to juggle, along with taking down my rivals from within, I stillcouldn’t resist the lure of the art world. It was always risky, but I learned from each past mistake. This time, I wouldn’t take on any beautiful partners to distract me. I doubted my new wife would take kindly to that anyway, not that she’d ever know about the gallery, since I meant to keep it well hidden from my in-laws.
I also spent the time getting my life locked down tight, fully aware Masha would start spying the moment I carried her over the threshold. She was more than welcome to wear herself out and turn the place upside down. She wouldn’t find anything interesting or useful—well, useful to the Fokins, anyway. I planned on putting plenty of false information under her nose to keep them out of my way while I was getting what I needed.
The morning of the wedding, I woke up with a sour taste in my mouth from too much vodka. It was a sorry bachelor party, just me and my second in command, since my brother still didn’t know about it. Would he have come to toast my future happiness? Doubtful.
As I headed toward the small chapel, tucked away in the older part of the city, I got a call from Matvey.
“Don’t worry, I’m not having second thoughts,” I answered, forcing a cheerful tone.
“I’m on my way to San Francisco,” he said, his own voice clipped. “An emergency came up.”
Damn it. Were they trying to weasel out of our deal? “I’m genuinely disappointed that we’ll have to postpone,” I said.
“We’re not postponing anything,” he told me. Somehow, that didn’t give me a rush of relief. “I’m sending a guard who views Masha as a sister,” he continued. “And really, you should be more concerned with crossing her than anyone.”
“I’m wounded by your lack of trust,” I laughed. “We’re going to be related in a matter of hours.”
He grumbled long and low about that. “Just remember, this is a business arrangement. You’d better be on your best behavior, or Masha will make sure you never walk straight again.”
He ended the call before I could come up with an answer. Well, welcome to the Fokin family.
At the chapel, the place seemed deserted except for a harried secretary who led me into a cramped office. Masha sat primly at the desk, several papers spread out before her.
“I already signed,” she said, nodding as she got up and left.
“Okay,” I said to her back. “See you in a few minutes, then?”
She didn’t answer, maybe too nervous. I had to admit I was having a brief moment of cold feet myself. What the hell was I doing? I didn’t care about this woman, wasn’t even attracted to her. Of course, it was only a business arrangement, but the papers in front of me looked very legal, and we were about to stand before a priest. As flighty and outrageous as my mother could be, she wouldn’t look too kindly on me making sport of holy matrimony. It was why she only had affairs, not trusting anyone enough to ever risk marrying again.
But she always longed for both her sons to be together again, and that was what this was ultimately for. Not to mention, I’d own most of LA by the time I had my foot on the Fokins’ collective neck.
After I signed the papers, the secretary assured me that the priest was ready when I was, then hustled out of the officelike a dragon was breathing fire up her skirt. She must have been informed of who was getting married, not to ask questions, and to make herself scarce. It was just like the Fokins to swing their power around instead of using a little charm.
My second in command and best man, Andrei, and I walked down the aisle and took our place. I nodded to the fidgety priest, who swallowed hard and flipped through his prayer book. Andrei and I made awkward small talk until an organ began warming up above us. A burly man I didn’t recognize walked briskly down the aisle and stood opposite us, probably the bodyguard I was warned not to cross. He glared at me, looking strangely wary despite his reputation and the fact that he was armed.
With a shrug, I looked down the aisle as the gentle hum of the organ swelled into the famous wedding march. My bride appeared in the arched doorway, clutching a rather wilted bouquet of daisies.
My shoulders stiffened, and I took a half step forward. What was I seeing?Whowas I seeing? Because it wasn’t Masha walking toward me. I had to blink several times to make sure I hadn’t lapsed into some sort of wishful daydream. No, what I was seeing was very real. What the hell?
The beautiful blonde, who was my downfall, was storming toward me, looking very much like she wanted to fling aside her bouquet so she could murder me with her bare hands.
And it wasn’t like I could blame her.
