Page 29 of Unforgiving Saint (Starukhin Bratva)

“The two of you are perfect together,” Larissa reassures me.

Naomi’s three-women staff help me into my wedding dress. As they lace up the back, I marvel at how something so beautiful can feel so suffocating.

The bridal suite door creaks open. And Larissa instantly shouts as Nikolai hovers in the doorway.

“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding!”

Grinning, he covers his eyes. “The wedding is tomorrow. Besides, I’m not looking, but I do have a present.”

Mercy appears from behind Nikolai, and I jump off the platform and run toward her. She squeals as she wraps her arms around me, and Naomi’s staff shoo us apart to avoid wrinkling my dress.

“You came.” I hold Mercy’s hand as I introduce her to the other women in the room. I was foolish to think they’d automatically get along, and I wonder if it was wise to do this to Mercy.

“More like I demanded to come, and your—I cannot believe I’m about to call him this—Prince Charming made it happen with my dad’s blessing.” Mercy looks me up and down. “Edie, you look beautiful. And I have something for you from my father.”

Mercy reaches into her leather tote bag. But before she can give me anything, she’s tossed to the ground by a Bratva guard posing as a bridesmaid. Another rushes over, drawing her gun and pointing at Mercy. The small package is ripped out of her hand, and Mercy starts to swear between her moans.

“I think you broke a rib, you Russian bitch.”

“Stop,” Nikolai bellows, and all movement ceases in the room. We stare in his direction as he walks over to the guard and rips the package out of her hand. I run to Mercy and crouch beside her on the floor. She groans softly as I try to help her up, but sheshakes me off to sit up on her own. Bruised but not broken, she glares hot hate at the woman who knocked her down.

“Eden.” Nikolai hands me the package, but he opens the attached card and reads it aloud. “Dear Eden, I disapprove of your wedding, but as a gift, we will not interfere. The pearls belonged to your mother, and she wore them on her wedding day. Blessings to you and your intended. Love, Uncle Vito. P.S. Take care of your cousin.”

The gift wrap is on the floor before Nikolai finishes reading. And I hold up an amazing set of ivory pearls, perfect and delicate. In awe, I hold them in my hands, knowing that my mother once touched them.

“I’m so sorry …” Larissa approaches Mercy, but Mercy holds up her hand.

“Save it. I’m here for my cousin,” she says sternly, “and then I’ll be going. Hopefully in one piece.”

Nikolai reprimands the two guards in harsh Russian but decides to leave well enough alone. He says nothing to Mercy before he exits the room.

I glance over at Mercy, who sits by herself in a corner, her back against the wall, staring at her phone. Larissa sits a good distance away. I had hopes that they might at least get along for the day, but the mutual goodwill from before doesn’t last. They keep a distance and act as expected—like enemies.

“We should have a toast,” I announce as cheerfully as I can fake it. “I deserve a toast before my wedding day.”

“Yes.” Naomi motions toward a staff person. “Go get a bottle of champagne. Be quick.”

The woman disappears and reappears with a bottle of champagne intended for after the ceremony. Mercy frowns at the large bottle of Dom Perignon as Dominika presses her lips tightly together.

“Is that wise?” asks Mercy, looking at Dominika for her opinion. “Besides, Eden needs juice or water.”

Larissa sighs. “Perhaps a bottle of sparkling water instead?” She and Mercy exchange a meaningful glance, and finally, they agree on something.

“It’s not a superstition I’ve ever heard of.” Naomi practically shoves the bottle into the woman’s hand. “Open and pour it.”

It’s awkward, us standing in a little circle, holding our glasses aloft. But Mercy softens when she sees my hurt expression and rises to the challenge with a toast. “To the prettiest bride I’ve ever seen. You’ve got guts, Edie, more than I gave you credit for. Keep chasing your dreams and getting them. Here’s to you and Prince Charming.”

“Cheers,” a chorus of voices respond as we all take a sip. Soon, the glasses are empty and refilled, and the tension slips away, replaced with laughter as Larissa makes a toast. “To my soon-to-be sister-in-law, welcome wholeheartedly to my family. It feels like you have been missing all this time, and you have finally arrived. All my blessings.”

Larissa smiles warmly at Mercy. “I am sincerely sorry. Bravery must be in your family genes.”

Mercy smiles at the compliment. “No harm, no foul. Eden is happy, and I’m happy to be here to see she will be okay.” Mercy raises her glass. “To love, wherever you find it. And may it always save the day.”

We all join in. “To love.”

My wedding dayis unseasonably cool and feels like a mild fall day instead of the end of summer. At sunrise, Mercy and I sneak around the massive fort with four guards tagging along, admiring the potted plants and tall vases of cut flowers camouflaging the generic walls. The arrangements tower over us and give off the impression that we’re on a tropical island and not near Niagara Falls.

“It was Larissa’s idea,” I explain to Mercy, who gawks at a display of live birds of paradise in full bloom. “I asked for a destination wedding only because I thought it would be safer.”

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