Who needed that type of obligation when I had this? I had a family full of wonderful people who wanted me in their lives, who didn’t look at me and wonder what I could do for them, or how they could use me to further their own goals.
I now had a family who defended each other with blood and loyalty. Women who embraced me, teased me, fixed my lipstick, and called me sister.
For a moment, tears prickled in my eyes. Not because of what I was losing, but for what I was gaining. I had never imagined my warmest memories would be tied to a mafia family, but here I was—about to walk down the aisle toward a man who would burn down kingdoms for me. I was flanked by women who felt more like mothers and sisters than anyone other than Edith ever had.
The only family that I had before Darius, the only one that mattered, was Edith, and she was here to show her support and love, and probably to threaten my new husband at some point.
With a glance at the dainty Cartier watch on Edith’s wrist—a gift from Darius as thanks for giving her blessing and for caring for me as if I were her daughter—I saw it was time to go.
It was time to shed the last of my old life and to start my new life—one of my own making, that I built with a man that I chose.
One last deep breath to steady the tears of happiness that built behind my eyes, and I got to my feet.
The room went quiet. And Samara lifted my veil, arranging it over my shoulders so it framed my face. “Gotova, Sestra?”
Ready, Sister?
I nodded. “Gotova.”
CHAPTER 37
DARIUS
Ihad bled for power, fought for respect, and killed for survival.
But for her? For her, I had finally started living.
I stood in front of the newly built garden chapel on Gregor’s estate, flanked by the rest of the men in my family. All of us dressed in suits. The colors of our ties and boutonnieres carefully chosen and arranged by Yelena and Nadia.
I had faced down gunmen, CEOs, and presidents. I had stared death in the face more than once, but I had never been more terrified than I was standing in front of that altar with a flower in my jacket while I waited to see if Anna chose me.
My hands were tucked behind my back, my posture military tight. It felt like I couldn’t breathe, and I had to remind myself not to lock my knees so I didn’t pass out before my vows. Assuming she was still planning on exchanging them.
I just stared down the aisle and waited. I waited for the moment when either my bride stepped onto that path and made her way to me, or for one of the other wives to step onto that aisle, a look of panic painted across her face as she came to tell us that Anna had realized this was all a mistake. And she didn’t really love me.
That scenario played in my head, over and over, and it started to feel like an inevitability. At least until Damien nudged me in the arm and leaned over to whisper, “Don’t worry, man, if she runs away, we’ll just go grab her, and you can throw her over your shoulder and drag her back. She wouldn’t be the first Ivanov woman to be carried to the altar. At this point, an unwilling bride is more a tradition than an inconvenience.”
I rolled my eyes, but the other men all laughed.
“We really should do something to make it up to them,” Gregor said. “Every woman dreams of her wedding day, but I’m sure most of them picture actually saying the words ‘I do’ instead of ‘go fuck yourself, you psychotic Neanderthal.’”
There was more laughter, and this time I couldn’t help joining in.
“Nah,” Artem said. “Now they laugh about it. Apparently, it was very ‘bodice-ripper chic.’ Whatever that means.”
“Are you going to cry when she walks out?” Pavel asked.
“No,” I bit out a little too harshly. Then I admitted the truth. “Probably.”
My shoulders sank, and I took a slow, deep breath, trying to calm my nerves before looking around the beautiful garden.
Gregor had spared no expense when putting this together, and every inch was steeped in tradition. A white path lined with rose petals led up to the arbor. Arushnyk, an embroidered ceremonial cloth that had been hand-stitched by our great-great-grandmother, lay across the ground for Anna and me to step onto together.
There were bread and salt presented on a wooden tray, offered by Gregor and Samara in place of our absent parents.
I never understood the symbolism before. I knew what it meant: prosperity, unity, and endurance through hardship. But before this, those were just words.
Being with Anna and making this commitment to her showed me what they represented. It was a promise that no matter what life threw at us, we would face it together, as one.
