Page 82 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

“Of course.” Her tone is sarcastic, but her eyes are narrowed. And, as I watch, her expression gets wiped clean away into indifference. “Fine.”

“It’s what we agreed upon.”

“Of course. It’s what you’re paying me for.”

Her blasé tone annoys me, but I decide not to push it. It’s easier this way.

“Guess I just didn’t imagine my wedding day going like this.” She says it with a carelessness that’s almost convincing.

Chowder has leapt on the floor and is chasing his tail in circles. “How did you imagine it?” I ask her.

She looses a half-laugh that isn’t mirthful in the slightest. “That’s the thing. I didn’t, really. I never really met someone I saw myself with or could trust, so I …” She trails off, scowling. Clearly, she didn’t mean to reveal so much. “Forget it.”

“Trust is dangerous,” I agree.

“And yet I trust you.” She says it like an accusation. “It’s stupid, and yet, I do.”

I can’t tell if this is another knife she’s twisting into me, but the effect is uncertain. “Why do something you know is unwise?” I ask her.

I can feel her eyes on me. I don’t meet them. “You’ve never done anything that you knew was a bad idea?” she asks me.

I open my mouth to answer, thinking of Osip, then think better of it. I walk to the door. “It’s time we got going. The justice of the peace won’t wait.”

This time, there’s no mistaking the apathy of her tone. “For you, I’m sure she would.”

* * *

The wedding ceremony is quick, small, somber. Ludmil has something on his mind, clearly, with the way he shifts his weight from one shiny-shoed foot to the other. Joy is all bland-smiled business, only speaking when spoken to. Mario has a magenta tie and is beaming like a proud parent—probably because of how sexy Joy looks in the tight, white sequined dress he chose for her. I have to keep ripping my gaze off her, regaining my concentration.

Focus, Gavril.

I do not like being distracted from my main purpose. Even if I know from experience that the distraction is more than worth the time spent …

Enough.

The justice of the peace is an efficient woman named Eileen with very close-set eyes and a lively blur of hair on her upper lip. She gets us to sign the papers and then, that’s it. The deed is done.

Joy Smith is now officially Joy Vaknin. We’re married.

The others disperse quickly enough, leaving Joy and me in the hallway before the big reveal. “You ready for this?” I ask her.

She raises her brows. “What if I’m not?”

She knows she has me. I can’t very well go out there and tell them that it’s all off. “They don’t expect you to be perfect, or even all that poised.”

“Just likable and down-to-earth and charming and not noticeably nutso. Easy as pie.”

“Compared to what you’ve been through already, I’d say so, yeah.”

Joy gives me a startled look. I can only give her the same one back. Where did that come from?

Her next words are laced with warning. “What do you know about what I’ve been through?”

“Only that there isn’t much these days that’s harder than being homeless, especially as a woman.”

Her hazel gaze on my face is suspicious, although her tone is subdued. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Definitely.”

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