Chapter 41

Anton

It felt like leading a lamb into a lion's den. But a den with about thirty lions.

And tigers. And bears. Oh my.

Of course, I was a lion too. One of the three biggest. In fact, I was pretty sure I had an inch on my brothers, even though we were close to identical.

Either way, I was feeling very protective of my little lamb. My recently deflowered little lamb. The servants would change the sheets when we were out. I texted the head of household to save the bloodied sheets. It might sound strange, but I was fiercely proud of being Mishka's first. I wanted those sheets.

I wanted to keep them forever.

Thankfully, my cousin Anastasia was already there, with her firstborn, her belly already swelling with another babe. I had a deep envy for what Vice was building. A family. An empire.

The rest of the bikers seemed to be on relatively good behavior. Unfortunately, my brothers were not. They seemed to sense that I was out of my element with Mishka and were already taking pot shots.

The last thing I needed was them to scare her off. This was a pivotal moment in our relationship. She was mine at last.

I would not risk losing her.

No man in their right mind ever would.

"Behave," I hissed as I passed right by them, leading them to my beautiful cousin. Motherhood had softened her, on the surface. But Vice had confided in us that she was more fierce than ever, particularly where her progeny was concerned.

I would definitely not want to wrangle with my cousin.

As William Shakespeare said in ‘A Midsummer Night's Dream "Though she be but little she is fierce."

That captured my cousin perfectly. It also captured my Mishka. They had so much in common, I realized. Innocent but brave, passionate but kind, proud but gentle.

Except when they weren't.

I shuddered at the thought of angering either of them. I was not afraid of my father, or much else. My brothers were fearsome, particularly if they ever teamed up against me, but I did not fear them as much as respect their power. But displeasing the women in my life, or losing them, shook me to the core.

Especially Mishka.

My sweet, delicious little Mishka.

She and Anastasia hit it off like two birds of a feather. They were quickly sitting together, chatting in rapid fire Russian, after I had introduced her around of course. I was gratified to see that Preacher was indeed present, and close to sober, for once. I had heard that he had cleaned up his act since meeting his lovely wife, and becoming a family man.

Again, I was struck by a profound jealousy. I wanted that with Mishka. I wanted to please her. To protect her. To watch over her, making her wellbeing and happiness my priority for the rest of my life.

Long may it be.

I had never concerned myself with such things before. Life was life. I valued mine, and my brothers, but no one else's, other than Anastasia. No one else's existence was of consequence.

That was changing though. For example, I had cared about her father. That had surprised me, though it shouldn't have. And I cared about the old man's life now more than ever.

But there had been a spark of goodness inside me.

I stepped outside to FaceTime her father. My heart was hammering in my chest. He looked good, and happy to see me.

"I had intended to speak to you in person, and for that I apologize. I do plan to bring Mishka to see you on our journey home, but I do not want to wait. I am asking for your daughter's hand in marriage."

Before the man could speak, I launched into a set of plans I had for her. For us. For our future.

"My intention is to insulate Mishka from the unsavory side of the business, while also removing myself from those elements. My brothers will be happy to assist in this transition. I propose a traditional marriage, with Mishka free to pursue her music, and have children if she chooses to do so. I will leave that decision to her. I only wish to be with her, for the rest of my life. With your blessing of course."

"Have you discussed this with my daughter?" Barlov asked, trying and failing to look severe. He was too jovial. And I knew that the old man liked me.

I could see his answer in the crinkling of his eyes at my next words.

"I believe she will be amenable. She is… fond of me," I said, choosing to be chivalrous and not let the man know that his daughter had spent the morning in naked splendor with me. There was no need to spell it out for him. With the way I had spoken it was implied.

His daughter was fond of me. Of that I had no doubt. Did she love me? I believed that she did. Was she as in love with me as I was with her?

That was simply not possible, so I did not worry about it.

A man should love his woman more. It made sense. I would protect and care for her tender heart and beautiful soul. I promised all of this to Barlov and more until he was smiling and saying yes.

I promised again to take care of her. We said goodbye, knowing we would be shaking hands in person in a manner of days, if not hours. Our next flight would be to Switzerland, then home. I would take Mishka on a honeymoon after our formal wedding in Moscow.

With the matter of her father settled, I tried very hard to ignore the matter of my father. I had no idea if he would care one way or the other, but if he did, there was a very good chance that all hell would break loose.

Thus, the hurried wedding in a barn, on a beautiful, sunny day in Northern California.

Next, I had to speak to Preacher.

And my brothers. I was certain that they would be happy for us. Once Alexie got over losing the bet. I grinned suddenly, remembering Andrei's predictions. I had not doubted them, even back then. Somehow it had all sounded like the natural order of things coming to fruition. I had not resisted, or scoffed, or panicked, the way so many confirmed bachelors might have. I just listened, and a part of me answered, deep inside me, with a resounding ‘yes'.

And now now it was time to put that mystical ‘yes' into full three-dimensional reality.

"Preacher, do you have a moment?"

My brother's both perked up in their seats. They were drinking heavily, bloody Mary's and straight vodka from what I could tell, but they both knew something was up. They followed Preacher and I out into the sunshine.

I was making a habit of having serious conversations lately. Today in particular. Not that I was ever really lighthearted before, but right now? I was as serious as a communist era tax collector.

And yet I was smiling.

"Feel like officiating an impromptu wedding?"

"Now? Today? You and that pretty little Russian doll?"

"Yes. And keep your eyes, and your hands, off her."

"And your lips," Andrei added. We all knew Preacher's history of kissing brides and interfering at weddings. That was all before he met the lovely Cynthia, of course.

"Goddamn it. I love that damned horse," Alexei added. Andrei cracked a smile. I tried to hide mine. My brothers could easily afford the wager. It was just juicy enough to sting a bit.

Well, considering a prized stallion and a private island were on the line, more than a bit.

None of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was Mishka. Securing my future. And marrying her quickly, without my father's knowledge or interference, was the most important thing I would ever do.

"I will take excellent care of him," Andrei promised. "As will my mares."

"Do I have time to breed him first?" Alexei asked. "We were waiting."

"Perhaps," Andrei said, stroking his chin.

"Has the lady agreed to this borderline shot gun wedding yet?" Preacher said, giving me a stern look, commonly referred to the ‘fish eye' by our American friends.

Preacher was particularly good at dispensing the fish eye.

"Not yet," I said, and Alexei crowed "stallion is still mine!"

"No interference," Andrei shouted in English as Alexei strode back towards the barn doors, presumable to interfere. I was grateful that Andrei would be there to keep an eye on him. I knew neither brother wanted anything but the best for me, but they were in their cups and I was not willing to risk it so I called out my own warning, stopping them both in their tracks.

"I love her," I said simply, loudly, and clearly.

They turned to look at me. Alexei bowed to me and I knew he would not behave foolishly. Andrei nodded. He was the clairvoyant. He already knew.

"Let's go ask the girl," Preacher muttered, taking a swig of the very expensive bottle of tequila in his hand. I knew he did not drink much now that he was oh-so-extremely-happily married.

"Please," I said, making him raise an eyebrow. I was not known for the social niceties, especially for asking politely for anything. But in this case, I felt the need.

I would do anything for her.

"Allow me to speak to her in private."

He nodded, stroking his long beard.

"Of course, man. Hope it goes well for you."

It was the most sincere I had ever seen the man. I clapped my hand on his back. Hard.

"Thank you, Preacher. Stay a little bit sober."

"In case she says yes," he joked. I stood outside by myself for a moment, looking up at the sky. Then I went inside to make my case with my soon-to-be-bride.