I extracted my left hand with difficulty from my father and met his glassy eyes full of pleading, begging me to call this off.
“I love you, Dad,” I choked, and gave his cheek a quick peck before I turned myself over to my fate. If I’d hugged Dad, I might have dissolved into tears.
“Are you okay?” Kirill asked in my ear, voice gentle. Oh, he was turning on the charm. My hesitancy spooked him.
“I’m fine.”
“You had me worried there.”
It was time to play a role. I shot him a dazzling smile of my own. “Like you said, I’m a papa’s girl.”
The ceremony was a blur. A fever dream.
I’d never been to a wedding like this. The officiant wasn’t a priest or a minister, and the ceremony was like a pagan ritual. There was no mention of God or any verses from the Bible. He talked about the commitment to each other, to the family, and to the future we would build. He talked about our mutual love, respect, and comfort. Growing old together and cherishing each other to build a strong marriage.
I repeated vows that were merely words on paper. I didn’t feel like it was me saying those vows. Like it wasn’t me slipping the ring on Kirill’s finger.
But when it was Kirill’s turn, something happened that pulled me out of my trance. It was his deep baritone, the piercing depths of his eyes as he spoke to me directly. Like he meant the vows he was saying. Vows of commitment, and love, and respect.
He slipped the wedding band onto my finger, and then it was over.
The officiant announced to the crowd that we were Mr. Kirill Zahkarov and Mrs. Lucia Zahkarova. Following that declaration, Kirill gave me a firm kiss. Nothing scandalous, even respectful. It was as though he still didn’t trust me to run away. When he raised his head, our gazes locked. His questioning, mine probably dazed.
The applause and cheering of the crowd reminded me of the role I was supposed to play. I offered him a tentative smile before we turned and faced our family.
Three hourslater
When you are the bride,you have tunnel vision, but I should have trusted my gut. The ceremony and reception went off without a hitch. After his initial broody face, Kirill transformed into an attentive groom. He wasn’t that much out of character. He didn’t laugh; he smirked. Sometimes, I could even make out a genuine smile.
After we signed the marriage contracts, the tension seemed to have dissipated from both families.
For now.
Kirill and I circulated among family and associates. He even left me alone with my cousins.
“I really thought we were going to have a runaway bride,” Ivy said. “I was ready to rumble.”
I laughed. And she really would. Ivy was a practitioner of the martial arts and could kick ass.
“So there really was a getaway car?” I asked, sipping my first wine of the evening. I hadn’t eaten, and I was nibbling on a plate of food Margo ordered me to eat.
“Yes,” Matteo said. “Three SUVs are hanging around the perimeter of the property, waiting for my signal.”
I shook my head, but my heart expanded with what my family was prepared to do. “I really appreciate everything.”
“Aw, we love you.” Sera hugged me.
“Bianca is bummed Sandro wouldn’t let her come.” Sloane was sitting on Dom’s lap.
“Ugh, we don’t need to manage him,” Dom scoffed. “He’s been a growly ass since Bianca reached the last few weeks of her pregnancy.”
“He’s just a nervous first-time dad-to-be,” Sloane replied.
Margo arrived at our table. “Where’s Kirill? It’s almost the cake cutting.”
“Somewhere,” I replied nonchalantly. My feet were killing me and I didn’t want to go in search of my groom. “Can’t you send someone to look for him?”
My family around the table laughed. “Lucy’s already tired of her husband,” Sera quipped.
