Page 48 of The Bratva Enforcer and His Virgin Bride

I don’t completely fall apart, although there are moments when I come dangerously close. Every morning I wake up and spend a few seconds forgetting what’s happening. Then I remember. The wedding. Lukyan. The future that seems to have been decided without me.

The panic never truly leaves. It settles somewhere deeper, becoming something I carry around instead of something that overwhelms me.

Valeria stays close for most of those two days.

Ashley, on the other hand, didn’t take it well at first. I told her everything the night after wedding shopping, and after expressing shock at the coincidence of marrying the handsome stranger who had almost run me over, she reacted with outrage.

I lost count of the number of times Ashley threatened violence against Lukyan over those two days.

At one point, she announced she was willing to run him over with her car. Later, I caught her researching assault charges on her phone while muttering to herself.

It should have worried me.

Instead, it made me laugh.

More importantly, it reminded me that I wasn’t completely alone in this.

The only thing I actively participated in was choosing my dress.

Valeria had expensive taste. Painfully expensive taste. Every gown she showed me looked like it belonged in a royal wedding. Layers of lace. Hand-sewn beadwork. Veils that probably cost more than everything I owned combined.

In the end, I chose something simple.

Something elegant and comfortable that felt like me.

I knew most women spent years imagining their wedding dress. They dreamed about the moment they would walk down the aisle. They imagined the photographs and the memories and the stories they would tell years later.

I couldn’t bring myself to think about any of that.

The dress wasn’t the important part.

Surviving the day was.

Everything else—the flowers, the food, the decorations, the guest list—I left entirely to Valeria.

I simply didn’t have the energy to care.

The less involved I became, the easier it was to create a little distance between myself and what was happening.

One thing I was grateful for was that I hardly saw Lukyan during those two days.

I didn’t know whether he was deliberately staying away from me or whether he was genuinely occupied with whatever Bratva business filled his days. Either way, I appreciated the space.

Every interaction with him left me frustrated.

The confidence.

The certainty.

The way he spoke as though decisions became facts the moment he made them.

By the second evening, I had decided that avoiding each other was probably the healthiest arrangement available to us.

The night before the wedding, Ben arrived to take me to Lukyan’s estate.

The drive had taken almost an hour.

I remembered watching the city disappear beyond the window and wondering if I was looking at the last familiar thing I would have for a very long time.