"It's lovely," I say, turning it over in my hands. "But I can't accept something so valuable?—"
"I insist." Irina moves closer, her fingers already reaching for the comb. "Let me place it in your hair. It will be perfect with your updo."
Before I can protest, her hands are in my hair, working the comb into place with quick, efficient movements. Her fingers brush against my scalp, and I catch a whiff of her perfume—something expensive and cloying that makes my stomach turn slightly. She steps back, admiring her work in the mirror.
"Perfect," she says, her green eyes meeting mine in the reflection. "Absolutely perfect."
There's something in her tone that makes my skin crawl, but I force a smile. "Thank you."
Irina leaves as quickly as she arrived, and I'm left staring at my reflection, at the antique comb glinting in my blonde hair. Megan frowns slightly, her hand reaching up to touch it.
"That was weird," she says quietly. "Why would she give you something so personal?"
Before I can answer, another knock echoes through the room. This one is firmer, more authoritative. Lev Baranov stands in the doorway, imposing in his dark suit, his expression professionally neutral.
"It's time," he says, his voice low and controlled.
My stomach drops to my feet. I'd wanted Alexei to walk me down the aisle, to have my brother give me away in the traditional sense. But Roman had insisted on Lev for security reasons, and I'd been too exhausted to fight about it. Now, looking at Lev's hard expression, I understand why Roman made that choice. Lev is a weapon disguised as a man, and having him at my side sends a message to anyone watching. Eva Sokolov is protected.
Alexei kisses my cheek and disappears to take his seat. Megan fusses with my dress one final time, then follows him out. And then it's just Lev and me, standing in the guest room that's been my sanctuary for weeks.
"You look beautiful," Lev says, and the compliment surprises me coming from him. "Roman is a lucky man."
"Is he?" The question escapes before I can stop it. "Or am I the lucky one, being forced to marry a Pakhan to save my family?"
Lev's dark eyes study me with uncomfortable intensity. "You're both lucky. And both trapped. That's what makes this interesting."
He offers his arm, and I take it with hands that won't quite stop trembling. We process through the estate's marble halls, my heels clicking against the expensive floors, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. Through the windows, I catch glimpses of the garden where the ceremony will take place—white roses everywhere, guests seated in neat rows, the string quartet playing something classical and beautiful.
The November air hits me when we step outside, crisp and cold despite the bright sunshine. I'm grateful for the long sleeves of my dress, for the way the fabric shields me from the chill.Lev's arm is steady beneath my hand, his presence solid and reassuring despite everything.
The music shifts, signaling my entrance. Lev guides me toward the rose-lined aisle, and I see Roman waiting at the altar. Even from this distance, he's devastating in his black suit, his broad shoulders filling out the tailored fabric in ways that make my mouth go dry. His blue eyes find mine across the garden, and the intensity in them makes my breath catch.
He wants me. I can see it in the way his gaze drops to my breasts, then lower, cataloging every detail of my appearance. Even now, even surrounded by witnesses, his desire is palpable. My nipples tighten beneath the dress's bodice, and I see his jaw clench with restraint.
I take my first step down the aisle, and all eyes turn toward me. I see Megan and Katya standing as bridesmaids, both of them crying openly. I see Alexei in the front row, his face a mixture of pride and concern. I see David Brennan, Roman's lawyer, his expression professionally neutral behind his titanium-framed glasses.
And then I see them. Three men in expensive suits, seated prominently in the third row. Their faces are unfamiliar, but something about the way they watch—calculating, assessing, missing nothing—makes my stomach clench with dread. These aren't normal wedding guests. These are men who've come to judge, to evaluate, to determine something important.
The Moscow delegates. They have to be.
I force myself to keep walking, to maintain my composure despite the fear flooding my system. One step. Another. The aisle feels impossibly long, and Roman's blue eyes never leave mine.
I'm halfway down the aisle when I feel it. A sudden loosening at my back, like something has come undone. The dress's intricate lacework begins separating at the seams, threads unraveling with horrifying speed. I feel the bodice start to gape, feel cool air against my spine where the fabric is pulling apart.
The buttons. The dozens of tiny pearl buttons Megan fastened so carefully. They're coming undone, one after another, the dress literally falling apart around me with each step I take.
42
ROMAN
Iwatch Eva proceed down the aisle on Lev's arm, and my chest tightens with an emotion I'm not accustomed to feeling. Pride. She's breathtaking in the traditional Russian wedding dress, all white silk and intricate lacework that honors our shared heritage. The bodice hugs her fuller breasts in ways that make my hands itch to touch, and even from this distance I can see the slight curve of her belly where our child grows. My heir. My future.
Mine.
The possessive satisfaction that surges through me is so powerful it nearly steals my breath. Tonight, she'll be mine in every way that matters.
The Moscow delegates sit in the third row, their expressions carefully neutral as they observe. I feel the weight of their judgment like a physical pressure against my chest. One wrong move, one sign of weakness, and they'll strip me of everything I've built. But watching Eva walk toward me with quiet dignity, I know this is right. This marriage legitimizes my heir,strengthens my position, and proves I'm building something that will outlast me.
