“And I will see you, my son,” he responded with a firm nod of his own. And the steel in his gaze spoke further than his words. My father and I might have a ‘deal’, but I couldn’t put off marriage for much longer. There would come a time when he would choose a wife for me, if I refused to choose my own. The continued Vasiliev legacy was greater than either of us.
Leaving his office, I headed to my car--a sleek black Maserati GranTurismo Sport. Before stepping out into the sunlight, I was already pulling my cell phone from my jacket to call my best friend, Nikolai. He picked up on the third ring, as the phone connected to my car after starting the engine; the rumble beneath me was satisfying and electric. It was the lifestyle I chased, the lifestyle I was clinging to…
The lifestyle that would drastically change once I was chained to a wife.
“Party tonight,” I stated.
He laughed. “I’m not falling for that one again. This is some stuck-up family thing you’re roping me into again, isn’t it? I have a very good memory of the last time, Alexander.”
I smirked at the memory. “One moment,” I replied as I pulled out of my driveway, but almost immediately slowed to a stop again. Lowering my window, I gestured for Damien, the head of our family’s security, to come over. Nikolai fell silent immediately.
“Alexander,” Damien said as he approached, dipping his head in a show of deference.
“It’s done. Get the body moved and the office cleaned,” I ordered, and he nodded assent.
“I’m sorry,” he offered, his face a picture of frustration, “I should have known. I could have stopped what was happening earlier.”
I held a hand up to stop him. “No one could have known his treachery. What’s done is done. Have the situation dealt with and my father’s office spotless before we return home tonight, and all will be forgiven.”
Damien nodded once again and stepped away from the Maserati. I rolled my window back up and continued to drive. For a normal person, someone not born into a world of darkness, what had just happened in my father’s office would cause distress. They’d be emotionally distraught, unable to function.
For me, it was just another day. Just another death. I felt nothing.
“Now, where were we?” I asked, alerting Nikolai that he could speak.
“You were telling me about the crazy party we were going to tonight. Lots of women, lots of alcohol, and lots of drugs, yes?”
I laughed, “how did you guess? That’s exactly how it will be.”
“Please tell me that there’ll at least be some women our age? We don’t have much longer before we’ll be married with no time to have any fun,” Nikolai whined.
Just like me, he was reluctant to marry. Yet we both knew it had to happen. And sooner rather than later. We both must follow in our fathers’ footsteps, which meant an heir was needed to continue the bloodline. Of course, Nik had it easier. His father was dead, honorably so in service to the family. Though, my own father treated Nik like a son and both of our mothers were also eager to have us married. We’d been told all of our lives that our wives must come fromgood stock, whatever the fuck that meant. They had to be the products of wealthy, established families and one could only hope that they would be beautiful too.
Line the best stock up in an auction house and bid on them like cattle. The best breeder wins the hand of the Prince and his best soldier.
“There will be lots of women,” I agreed, breaking from my thoughts.
“You swear?” Nik sounded like he trusted me about as far as he could throw me.
Which was not at all.
I laughed heartily. “Lots and lots of women, all ripe for our choosing.”
It was one of the many benefits of being the son of the feared Eduard Vasilov and heir to his bloody, powerful throne; people were at my beck and call, and women were always primed for the taking.
Even at a boring-as-hell business function that I’d just tricked my de facto brother into attending with me in a bid to liven up the inevitable tedium.
Chapter Two
Marisha
“I’m not feeling well,” I averted my gaze, not looking at the reflection of my husband in the mirror as I sat at the mahogany vanity, one of the only furniture items I was allowed to bring with me when we married.
Ivan was already dressed in an impeccable bespoke suit which fit perfectly over his hard, chiseled body. He was wearing the platinum cufflinks I’d gotten him for our first anniversary two months ago. They glinted, catching the light when he moved. I hated how they sparked, how they reminded me that I was shackled to him. To this marriage. To this life.
“You are coming, Marisha. This is not up for discussion.” His voice was a low rumble, a thunderstorm threatening a downpour if I did not comply.He alone could be my shelter; he alone could give me the lifestyle I had.He reminded me constantly… that I would be nothing without him.
My family name was disgraced, my mother and father breaking Bratva laws. They’d meant well, I had to believe they’d meant well… otherwise, how could they risk their lives? My life? They’d died for their betrayal, brutally. If Ivan had not spoken for me, if he had not already asked my parents for my hand before their wrongdoings came to light, I would have died as well.
