Chapter 10
Damien
I watch her spin in that red velvet dress, every inch clinging to her waist. My hands itch to go to her, to touch her, to show her why she belongs with me, but now’s not the time. I’ve got exactly an hour before I have to head home for a weapons shipment, and I want to savor this—her, lost in what she loves, surrounded by her world.
Someone nearby, her assistant, I think, looks ready to throw up when one of the guards strolls past with a gun in hand. I doubt Roxanne knows she’s planning the wedding for the son of an Italian mafia don, but the place is crawling with soldiers, every one of them itching to prevent trouble.
I take a sip of the chamomile tea in my hands. I'd have to be an idiot to believe this stuff actually calms my nerves, but it's from her, and maybe my brain's just fooling itself, because somehow, it works.
My phone vibrates in my pocket and I already know who it is.
“Good morning to you too, Ro.” I can’t help but sound a little too cheerful, and of course, he catches it right away.
“Whatever you’re getting yourself into, I don’t have time to bail you out of jail today. I need to take Luna to some event Max is throwing for Julia. So heads up, I won’t be around tomorrow when that grenade shipment goes down. If there’s any trouble, Niko can handle it.”
“Look at you, Ro. Big happy family suits you. I swear, I can see your wrinkles fading already.”
I can practically feel him start to boil. Roman Borisov is a lot of things, but calm isn’t one of them. I’ve never met anyone more obsessed with control, and maybe that’s why we work so well together.
I’m chaos. He’s control.
“I’ll deal with the shipment,” I say once I’m sure he’s popped a few more stress veins. “Oh, and telltygrisekI say hi and give her a kiss from me.”
“DAMIEN…”
"Want me to blow you a kiss too? Don't be so jealous, Ro."
He hangs up on me, but the grin is already spreading across my face. He's so easy to rile up. It's practically a hobby by now.
I glance up just in time to see Roxanne stepping out into the garden behind the house, toward the woods by the lake. This is my moment, my shot of happiness, because she isn't mine. Not yet. But these little glimpses of her keep me grounded.
Sometimes my mind feels like it could slip through my fingers when anger takes over. But with her, I feel like maybe, just for a second, I'm in control. And right now, I need that control more than ever.
Chapter 11
Roxy
“This is a disaster. A complete and utter disaster. Do you think they’ll kill us if we make a run for it?”
I roll my eyes at Yuri’s theatrics. Of all the times for him to start caring about these events, he chooses now. Ever since we arrived at the bride’s house, the courtyard and main hall have been swarming with men, some more subtle than others, carrying weapons. This was all the confirmation Yuri needed to decide that we are dealing with a criminal organization and are about to be sleeping with the fishes.
Beatrice, my bride for the day, decided that a fitting form of rebellion against this forced wedding would be to hack at her own hair. Now she looks like she just escaped an asylum because, on top of the hair and makeup that look like something straight out of a horror movie, she’s wearing a black dress.
Black. From head to toe. Granted, the woman has a body that would make half the male population drop to their knees, but this isn't the dress she ordered.
“Beatrice, let’s sort out the dress. I’m sure we can have the right one delivered to the venue in thirty minutes,” I say, praying she’ll agree.
“No. If I’m being forced to marry Satan, I’m going to do it dressed for his home,” she snaps back. I don't think I should mention that black seems more the Grim Reaper's style than Satan's, so I let it go.
“The hair, at least?” I grimace, hoping for some kind of concession.
She studies me for a few seconds before finally sighing. “Just even it out a little. NOTHING MORE.”
A victorious smile spreads across my lips. “Deal. Where can I find a pair of scissors?”
“Upstairs, third door on the left, on the bathroom counter.”
After I manage the hair crisis, we finally make it to the venue. It’s a restaurant on the shore of a lake, surrounded by lush greenery and decorated in shades of white and green to complement the natural setting.
