The rigmarole of removing this gauzy, huge wedding dress delays our dramatic exit.
When it’s finally back on the hanger, I sigh with regret and trace my hand over the waterfall lace dress, still hanging in the fitting room.
“Damn. I did like that dress. Now I’ll never get the chance to try it on.”
“I don’t think Nikolai is going to let us buy anything here,” Lily says regretfully.
So the whole morning was a waste, and I don’t have a dress for my wedding, which is in two days.
“No one’s gonna… kill her. Right?” I ask Nikolai as we leave, keeping my hands pressed firmly over Ava’s ears.
He shrugs. “I’m not. Your fiancé will make that call.”
I sigh. “He doesn’t need to know about this.”
“Actually, I have to tell him. He’s asked for a full report of your every movement.”
I shoot a look at Lily, whose mouth has dropped open in shock. Yeah. Getting used to the Bratva is a crazy adjustment for a normal person to make, even if it does involve luxe shopping trips.
“Romantic,” she finally says, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
24
ARTYOM
The soft knock at the door pulls me away from the spreadsheet of forecasts that is concerning me.
Organized crime has a veneer of glamour and mystique, but at the end of the day, it’s a money-making operation. Dealing in life and death is a business like any other. There are graphs involved. The money speaks louder than anything else, even though we dress it up in moral codes of honor and loyalty.
I shield my eyes the second I hear her step into the room. I know it’s her, just from the floral perfume and the soft sound of her footfalls.
“I’m not supposed to see you. It’s bad luck,” I call out.
“That’s cute, Art. You didn’t even propose, you’re doing work an hour before our wedding, and now you’re suddenly worried about traditions?”
There’s a slight tremor in her voice. Nina is not afraid of anything.
“Are you nervous?”
“This is the first time I’ve seen your family properly since five years ago, Art. I’m terrified. Your mother’s going to be there, and pretty much everyone you know, and I have no one except Lily and a few colleagues.”
Fuck it. I turn to face her and my heart skips a beat.
Nina is pale and soft and absolutely perfect in her wedding gown. Her dark hair is pinned up, revealing her delicate neck. The lace dress is moulded to her breasts in a heart-shaped neckline. The straps fall off her shoulders before dropping to the floor in folds that drape over her curves.
The dress was worth the burglary. Hell, it would be worth a murder to see Nina looking like an ancient goddess of fertility.
“This is such bad luck, Nenoka. But you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
I pull her between my knees, my hand splayed on the small of her back.
“I need you right now,” she says quietly, those brown eyes warm and open on mine. The rush of satisfaction that those words send through me is intoxicating.
If you’d told me three weeks ago that Nina Porter would be begging me to fuck her on our wedding day, telling me that she needs me, and I would be the one hesitating because of a superstitious belief that probably isn’t even real, I’d have assumed this was an elaborate fantasy I’d crafted.
She’s wearing Babushka’s silver tiara, a family heirloom, andlooking like an innocent fucking angel in her lacy dress. The ivory sets off her freckles and creamy skin.
But I can see her nerves, her lower lip ragged from biting, and the way she’s looking at me as though she needs my approval.
