Two trays have been left. One holds food preparation. The other, spare aprons.
That’s it!
I check to make sure the coast is clear, and then shoot up from behind the parked car to swoop a white apron around myself. I yank it over my head and tie a rushed knot around my waist.
Come on Lauren, you got this!
I don’t know how much time I have left before I’m caught again, but I don’t care.
I’m not leaving until I stop this wedding.
Chapter Two
Nikolai
It’s not just my property the woman from before seems to be intruding.
It’s my head too.
Her scent still lingers, and I can still feel the smooth texture of her skin under my grip. I can practically see how her nipples puckered under my gaze, pink and tempting like ripe cherries waiting to be tasted.
D’yavol’skaya suka.
I shake off the memory and force myself back into the present moment. Timur stands in front of the mirror, evaluating his outfit. He loops the tie around his white, collared shirt for the third time in a row. Which is strange. Timur always has it together. It’s why he’s been my right-hand man since I became thepakhan. He isn’t just my best friend and confidant—he’s also a business partner.
I step forward and yank the tie straight for him.
“Spasibo, bratan.”
He continues staring at his reflection in the mirror. Today, he wears a suit and has even done up the top button, which is unusual for a man like him. He was raised by the streets and he rarely dresses like this. Even when he does, his sleeves are rolled up in case he needs to get his hands dirty.
But tonight’s different.
He’ll tie the knot soon and I can’t have him do that in jeans and a leather jacket.
But it’s not his outfit that makes me frown. It’s his prolonged standing and staring in silence.
“Nervous?”
“Nyet,” he says. “But I know what this marriage means.”
We both do. It’s an arranged marriage. Happens in the Bratva all the time. I encouraged the wedding to go ahead because Sophia’s mother and mine were lifelong friends. I trust her family. Plus, Sophia’s mother has always had a soft spot for me, especially since my own mother died.
As for her daughter, she is young, loyal, and ripe. Just what Timur needs. Sophia will milk his dick every night, and with time, maybe even give him an heir. She’ll help him keep his head straight which is exactly what I need from a man in his position.
“Rasslablyat’sya,bratok,” I tell him. “Relax. It’s not like she’s in love with you.”
Timur smirks, adjusting his silver-plated cufflinks. It takes him a moment to work out how to fix them to the sleeves. “She is, she just doesn’t know it yet.” He turns around from the mirror and looks at me. “Don’t worry, boss. I’ll be a good husband. And her family’s debts will be paid.”
I nod, satisfied. It’s what I want to hear. The marriage will be good for them both. Sophia will receive money from Timur to support her own family, and Timur’s sick father will receive personal care from Sophia, being the highly skilled nutritionist she is. That way Timur won’t be distracted and can focus on his role in the Bratva.
“Khorosho.” I pat him on the back. “I have something to take care of in my office. I’ll be back, before the ceremony starts.”
I close the door behind me and move a hand through my hair. We’re getting started soon. Incoherent chatter buzzes everywhere, and steps echo around the open plan house as people march across the reception hall to get to the court area.
Hosting an event like this is not something I do every day. Normally, when I host something over at the estate, it’s a dimly lit boardroom meeting that involves my closest men, discussingstrategy and business around the table. Tonight’s different. This evening is all about opulence, tuxedos, and vodka.
I’m almost at the entrance of my office when something yellow and shiny catches my eye. Someone in a lemon silk dress who’s not supposed to be here.
