13. Alexander

Chapter 13

Alexander

“ I t’s not too late,” Lev says, sounding like he’s struggling to hold it together. “You can turn this around. Bring my sister back and we’ll act like nothing happened. Nobody else knows, right?”

“Dasha’s already on her way over.” I pace back and forth across my balcony. Inside, Natalya’s using my bathroom to finish getting ready, or at least as much as she can considering I don’t have most of what she needs.

Lev groans. “Dasha? What the fuck?”

“I needed a witness.”

“I can’t believe you’re fucking serious about this.”

“I know, Lev. I’m really sorry, but I have to do this.”

I can practically see him right now, red-faced and fuming mad, but also desperate to salvage this situation before it gets worse. That’s Lev, always playing the peacemaker. When me and Step would get into a fight, it was Lev that helped smooth everything over. When shit got rough at home, it was Lev inserting himself to divert their father’s temper away from everyone else.

Lev’s a good man. He’s the one I hate hurting the most.

I lost Stepan already, and now I think I’m going to lose him too.

“If you cross this line, it’s over,” he says softly, a hint of desperation in his voice. “You have to know my father will never let it stand. He’ll kill you, and then he’ll still marry my sister off to the Italians.”

“She’s pregnant and it’s mine.”

There’s a long silence. I look back inside and spot the priest getting set up. He must’ve just arrived. I check my watch—right on time.

“When?” Lev asks, but he answers for me. “Fuck, it was in Paris, wasn’t it?”

“It was in Paris,” I confirm. “Listen, this is happening. She’s pregnant with my child, and I can’t let her marry someone else. Just do me a favor and let me tell your father myself.”

Lev barks a laugh. “You’re insane.”

“I know this is crazy, but I have to do it.”

“You really don’t. I get it, she’s pregnant, but I doubt Adriano will even care.”

“I care.” My jaw works and I want to say more. Lev’s a good man, but he doesn’t understand honor like I do.

I thought when Natalya came to me that the right thing was to let her go through with the Bratva’s plans for her. I thought I should be the dutiful soldier and put my own pride to the side.

But now I see it’s never been about me.

This is about the baby.

I don’t know how the Italians will react. They’ll figure out that the child isn’t Adriano’s sooner or later, and I can’t guarantee my baby’s safety. Even if they don’t hurt my child, they might treat them like shit just because they’re not blood-related, and I couldn’t live with damning my own baby to a life of hell just because I’m not ready to do the hard thing.

I’m stepping up because I know I’ll take care of that kid better than anyone else can.

But as I move to push open the sliding door, I spot Natalya step into the hallway. Her hair’s up and some stray wisps hang down around her perfect oval face, and my breath gets swept from my lungs again.

I’m doing this for my baby—but I’m also doing it for her.

God, she looks beautiful. Perfect, really, a perfect fucking bride. She glows in her dress and seems to float as she awkwardly greets the priest, an old Russian man from a small Orthodox parish, a man that used to owe the family some money, but now all his debts are officially paid.

I’m doing this for my baby, because that’s the right thing to do.

And I can never admit that it’s also because I want her .

Because if I ruined this alliance and potentially started a war out of pure selfishness?—

I don’t know how I could live with myself.

That’s not the man I want to be.

“Sorry, Lev, I got to go.”

“Wait, hold on. There’s got to be another way. Alex, don’t be fucking stupid. Let’s talk about it.”

I hang up on my friend and toss my phone aside as I step into the apartment.

I welcome the priest and help him get settled. There’s not a whole lot to do though, and we kill time by making strained small talk until the buzzer rings and Dasha comes inside.

She kisses both my cheeks. “This has to be the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” she says, holding to my shoulders and speaking very quietly. “Are you sure about this?”

“Thanks for coming,” I tell her and steer her to the living room, which should be answer enough. “I think we have everything we need now.”

Father Gorbachev clears his throat. “This is everyone?” He glances from me to Natalya and gestures at Dasha. “Just the one witness?”

“We need to do this quickly, Father.” I pull Natalya over and make her stand across from me. We’re in front of the fire place in my living room. Dasha’s sitting on the couch looking even more nervous than I am while Father Gorbachev opens and closes his bible.

“I can, ah, speak an abbreviated ceremony.” He glances at Natalya. “If that’s okay with you?”

“That’s fine, Father.” She’s looking anywhere but at me.

“Very good then. Please, hold hands.”

Natalya’s palms are dry and warm in mine as the old priest says the words. He skips over nearly everything and walks us through the vows. I say them without hesitation, and my voice doesn’t tremble. The idea of being Natalya’s husband doesn’t scare me—and neither does becoming the father of our child.

When it’s her turn, she stares at the floor the whole time.

“By the power vested in me by God, you are now husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Natalya’s face snaps up, her eyes going wide like this wasn’t what she expected?—

I step forward, and fuck it, even though I try like hell to be as perfect as I can be, I’m a flawed man. I have my demons and my needs.

And right now, there’s only one thing I want.

I claim her mouth with mine.

I pull Natalya against me and I bury her lips and invade her tongue with my own. I kiss her deep and her taste floods my mouth as she releases the most erotic little whimper I’ve ever heard in my fucking life, and I don’t care if there’s a priest standing a few feet away or if Dasha’s watching from the couch.

This woman is mine. She’s fucking mine now, my wife, all mine, and she’s carrying my god damn child.

I won’t let anyone get near her ever again.

I kiss her until it feels like my lips might fall to dust before finally pulling away.

Natalya’s looking at me now. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are bright.

“Hell yeah,” Dasha says with a cheer.

“I should get going,” the priest murmurs, already gathering his things, as Natalya seems to melt away from me, face turning even pinker with embarrassment.

But I only have eyes for my wife right now.

A strange, bestial hunger rolls through me, and if there weren’t two other people only a few feet away I’d grab Natalya by the hair and kiss claiming her, and I wouldn’t stop until she was moaning my name.

But fuck, that isn’t why I married her.

That’s the selfish, broken part of me again, and I will keep it under control.

Only right now it’s hard with my wife looking so fucking beautiful and her lips hanging open and her taste still lingering on my tongue.

The rest of the wedding is paperwork. We fill out the documents and everyone signs, including Dasha. Father Gorbachev gets the hell out of my apartment as soon as humanly possible.

“Here’s to the happy couple,” Dasha says, proposing a toast. She hands out glasses of wine, but I take away Natalya’s and pour it into my glass.

“A little won’t hurt,” she protests, but I give her a stony look.

“Not even a drop.”

Dasha stares between us as Natalya glares at me and I don’t back down an inch.

“Okay, well, here’s to the happy couple,” she says and downs her drink.

“Here’s to me and my wife,” I say, and toast the air.

“I already regret this.” Natalya turns and walks off, and I watch her go. The heat of that kiss is beginning to cool as reality sets in.

“You should go,” I tell Dasha. “Thanks for playing witness.”

“Anytime. You know, about the other night?—“

I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it.”

She turns to the door, but hesitates. “She’s the reason you didn’t come out with me, right?

“Something like that.”

“I thought so. Good luck, Alex. I think you’re going to need it.”

Dasha leaves and I’m alone with my wife for the very first time.

I should be happy. I just got married. My wife is pregnant with my child.

But all I can think about is the hell that’s about to rain down on both of us.

I walk back to my bedroom and find the dress lying on the ground. The sight of it in a puddle on the floor sends a chill down my spine, because that means Natalya is somewhere nearby, and she’s not wearing it anymore.

The memory of her sitting at the piano nearly naked as sweat dripped down her stiff nipples?—

It sends a thrill into my spine.

But she comes out of my bathroom a moment later wearing a pair of my sweats and a sweatshirt. She has the cuffs rolled and it looks huge on her, but she still manages to glare at me as if she weren’t practically swimming in my clothes.

“I have something for you.”

Her arms cross. “Yeah? Is it maybe an apology?”

“I have nothing to apologize for.”

“You kissed me.”

“I kiss you,” I agree, walking over. She backs away until her legs bump into the bed, then she sits down on the edge, her eyes going wide. I drop to my knees in front of her.

“What are you doing?”

I take the ring from my pocket and pull her hand toward me. Her skin is so soft under mine, and her mouth hangs open as I slide it onto her finger. The diamonds glitter in the light.

“Now you’re really mine,” I tell her.

“Where did you get this?”

“The shop.” I stay on my knees. “Do you like it?”

“Alex—“ She starts, but I don’t get to find out what she’s going to say.

Because someone’s pounding on the door like they’re trying to break it down.