Does she truly not know?
Does she really have no idea how far back this goes?
Or is she pretending, trying to play innocent the way all Laurents do?
I stare into those green eyes, searching.
Nothing.
No recognition.
No guilt.
Just the pure, bewildered outrage of a woman being dragged into a war she didn’t know she started.
I ignore her question.
Of course I do.
Instead, I slide a hand to her waist, pull her just slightly closer, and kiss her.
Not soft.
Not gentle.
Not for show.
A claiming.
And when I pull back, she looks like she might set me on fire right there at the altar. Perfect.
We head to the reception next, and I finally let go of her hand when Elara swoops in like a furious little hurricane wrapped in couture. She pulls Vivian away with a frown sharp enough to cut glass.
I watch them from across the room—Vivian, Elara, and Sienna huddled together. Three society darlings whispering like they’re plotting my immediate death. I can practically hear Vivian’s voice from here, dramatic as ever:He’s Satan’s kin. He dragged me to hell and married me there.
Funny.
I haven’t even done anything to her.
Yet.
My brothers try getting my attention too—Lev with his curious stare, Niko with suspicion written all over his face. Kaz looks amused. Roman is as upset as Elara. Adrian is calmly surveying the situation. Lukin, the Pakhan, hasn’t said anything for now. Though he’s looking at me like he has a lot to say.
They want answers. They want explanations. They want to know why I, of all people, walked into a marriage trap I usually burn other men alive for falling into.
I avoid them like the plague.
I didn’t do all this for a family meeting.
If they knew the truth—that I orchestrated this union to settle a debt soaked in blood, old as the stable incident only she remembers….
If they knew I used Vivian Laurent as the perfect scapegoat in a revenge she doesn’t even understand yet….
There would be chaos.
Questions.
Maybe even a lecture.
