Chapter FourIrina

Chapter Four

Irina

It's the day of my wedding, and I'm considering jumping out the window and running away.

Maybe I'll run to Sicily. I'll be surrounded by Alexei's enemies, so finding me there won't be an option. But the thought of him hurting my family to get back at me has me struggling into the white wedding gown I'm supposed to wear today.

It's beautiful, adorned with tiny crystals which glitter when they catch the light. My mother had it custom made within six days. It's crazy what having more money than you can spend does for you.

I glance down at my finger where Alexei will be putting a ring on an hour from now. The finger where the engagement ring he'd given me fitted for a couple of minutes before I sold it and donated the money to the animal shelter. A smile plays on my lips as I imagine how pissed he'll be when he finds out.

A knock on the door startles me. I turn around and lock eyes with my mother as she enters the room with a big smile. I don't bother to return her smile, I'm not as happy with this wedding as she is.

"You look so beautiful, Irina." The bed dips as she sits next to me and places her hand on mine, her smile fading. "You're upset."

"You're marrying me off to a monster, do you expect me to be happy?" I retort. "You're happy enough for both of us."

"Hey," she whispers, rubbing the back of my hand. "I know this is not what you wanted, and I promise I didn't want this for you. But your father had no choice, trust me."

I've heard that too many times already, that my father didn't have a choice and that is why he's allowing this marriage, but no one cares to tell me why. I've spent the last few days asking questions that no one deems worthy of an answer. "Why doesn't he have a choice?"

My mother's shoulders sag. "I don't know, Irina. Your father never discusses things like that with me, but I'm certain it is something really serious."

Which is why I'm bothered. My father hates the mafia, he leads an organization which fights against them. There's no logical reason as to why he's letting me get married to the head of the very group of people he detests, unless he's under some serious threat. One I would assume is from Alexei.

But Alexei denied it, and if it truly isn't him, then I can't think of anyone else who would do this.

The door opens again and my brother saunters inside. He looks at my gown as if it's the ugliest thing he's ever seen. Despite refusing to let me in on why my father made the sudden decision for me to get married, he's the only one who seems reasonably pissed with the idea.

"Hey," I say, blinking up at him.

He swallows. His eyes water. With guilt? Remorse? Maybe both. "I hate this, Irina. Maybe I should've just killed that bastard."

"Damien, watch it," my mother warns.

We both ignore her. "What do you mean by that? Am I right that Alexei threatened Dad into this?"

"I'm sorry, Ri. I can't tell you much, but I want you to be happy." He pauses as if inhaling deeply. "Even if I want nothing more than to rip that dress to shreds right now."

"Damien, your father will be angry if he hears you."

My brother frowns at our mother. "Who cares how he'll feel? Irina is the victim here."

"We're not allowing because we hate her." My mother sniffles, but rather than cry, she flattens a hand on her chest and draws in a breath. She's always the epitome of class and elegance, so much so that even crying in front of other people is such a big deal for her. Even her children.

I roll my eyes and groan with anger. "Mom, can you stop talking about me like I'm some prized possession?"

"I'm sorry, Ri. It's just…you're the best thing that has ever happened to your father and me. We're sorry we couldn't be better parents to you."

That sentence alone, and the guilt on her face, melts some of my anger away. How can I be mad at her when it's not like she made this call? My father always has the final say on what happens, it's been that way since I was little.

A part of me ponders on whether or not that's the life that awaits me. A future where I'll be nothing but a piece of furniture in Alexei's home. My father is not part of the mafia and I consider him decent yet he's that way, I can only imagine what a nightmare marrying Alexei will be.

Damien sighs and leaves without saying another word. My mother opens her mouth to say something but the door flies open and Arielle walks in. She's wearing a silky, silver dress which looks perfect on her. I have a chief bridesmaid when I don't even want to get married. Perfect.

Considering her crush on Alexei, I know Arielle would be a lot happier if she were the bride.

"Hello, Mrs. Volkov," she says politely to my mother.

My mother smiles at her. "Hi, Arielle. It's good to see you, and you look beautiful in that dress."

"Thank you, I had it ordered as soon as I heard about Irina's wedding." She smiles at me. "Congratulations, bestie."

I don't answer. They're other things I'd rather be congratulated for.

"How about I leave you girls and check if everything is in order." My mother stands and leaves the room.

Arielle hurries to my side. "Your dress is lovely. Just how much did this cost?"

"A ton of money."

Unlike me, Arielle is from a middleclass family. Sometimes I feel bad about all the flashy things I own and she doesn't, so we go shopping together and I pay the bills. She refused to let me pay for her bridesmaid's dress, she said something like she wasn't shameless enough to let me pay for her dress.

I honestly didn't mind. I love her and she's been a good friend to me for most of my life.

"I still can't believe you're going to be married to Alexei Vadim," she says.

"I can't either." My shoulders drop as I sigh. My hands are clammy from being so nervous. "I don't know what comes after this to be honest. I'm afraid."

She places a reassuring hand on mine. "It's normal to be afraid. I know I've talked about my crush on him and all, but the truth is, I'd also find getting married to him unnerving. You don't know him or what he's capable of, and I can't tell you that because I don't know either. But I don't want you to go into this with a negative mindset, he might surprise you."

"Yeah, he might surprise me and kill me on the first day of the marriage," I say sardonically.

Arielle's eyes crinkle. "Or he might make love to you and the both of you will get to know each other better. He might not be the monster you think he is."

"And if he is?"

"I'll come over and kill him myself."

I laugh, feeling some of the weight drop from my shoulders. "Thank God I have you to rely on."

"And Damien? He seemed really pissed when I saw him downstairs."

"He is, but there's nothing either one of us can do." My eyes prickle with tears, I can't believe it's the last time I'll be sleeping in my own home, on my bed, unless I visit. What if he doesn't even allow me to do that?

My sadness must be obvious because Arielle pulls me in for a hug, gently patting my back. "You'll be fine, babes. I know you will, you're the strongest and kindest person I know."

We break our hug when one of the maids comes to tell me it's time to go to the church. Arielle and I take the car with Damien in it, and we're all quiet on the drive.

Minutes later, my father is leading me down the aisle and I'm trying my very best to stop bile from climbing up my throat. I'm nervous, but this isn't the right time and place to vomit.

I try not to look at the faces of the men in this hall. The last thing I want is to see the darkness in their eyes and begin to wonder how many of them have blood on their hands.

I pass two guys who look just like Alexei, the one who looks the youngest has blue eyes instead of the dark-brown ones his brothers have.

My brother still looks pissed, as if he'd rather be anywhere but here. I feel him because I'd rather be anywhere else too. It's like my brain hasn't fully registered that I'm getting married or who I'm getting married to, and I'm trying really hard not to think about it.

Just keep walking.

I squeeze my father's hand when I pass my mother. She's faking a smile, but her eyes are red and swollen. She also hates this wedding. Arielle is standing next to her, and it's hard to read the expression on her face. She's struggling between being happy for me and feeling sorry I'm being pawned off like useless goods.

When we reach Alexei at the end of the aisle, my brain fizzles for a long second. He looks incredibly handsome in his charcoal, almost black, suit. His dark eyes meet mine as my father places my hand in his.

I steal more glances at him as the priest delivers a long sermon on the sanctity of marriage and being a good couple. Alexei, on the other hand, doesn't steal glances at me. His eyes are locked on me, like he wants to tear my gown off me and take me right here in front of the alter.

Pervert.

The problem is, I think I'd let him if he tried. I've been horny for too long and he's a bible chapter away from becoming my husband. But that's only if we don't kill each other first.

His eyes trail down my neck and stop at my breasts. I stop breathing because I don't want to give him a show, but the way he looks at me, the lust and need in his eyes, awakens a throb between my legs.

He's torturing with that gaze, and I know he's having fun doing it as he winks at me. I can't be the only one suffering, so I start breathing, pushing my chest out a little more and staring at the bulge in his pants.

I wonder how big he is.

"It's time to say your vows," the priest says, nabbing our attention.

I say mine first, dreading every word I echo after the priest. For better and for worse be damned, I'll kill Alexei if I ever have the opportunity and courage. He smirks at me. Cunny bastard, I'm sure he knows that, too.

"…Till death do us part." I slide the ring on his finger, wishing death does part us sooner rather than later. His death though, not mine. A prison wall would even be better, then I'd finally get to see him caged like the animal he is.

He doesn't hesitate when it's his turn to say his vows. I'd even say he's excited about shackling me to his side, like a puppy after a treat. I feel sick when he slides the diamond ring he's holding on my finger.

"I pronounce you Man and Wife," the priest says, sealing the deal.

That is it. All of this is real and I cannot escape it now. I'm officially Mrs. Vadim, wife of Alexei Vadim. I prefer being a Volkov.

Alexei smiles, as if trying to tell me I am now his. He's really rubbing it in my face. "Congratulations, Wife."

I shudder. Wife. That is what I am to him now, and he's my husband. Mine.

When the priest announces we should kiss, I stiffen my wobbly legs and try not to step back. Alexei's smile widens even more as he inches closer. So close I can feel the hardness of his body against mine as he cups the back of my head and brings his lips to within a breath of mine.

The back of my neck stiffens and heat flares in my stomach. Palpitations make my heartbeat erratically as I imagine him kissing me ravenously. I'm stupidly curious about how well he kisses, and I want to taste him on my lips.

But I don't show it. Give a dog a bone and he comes back for more.

"Don't you dare," I whisper harshly against his lips. "Kiss me and I'll rip your tongue out."

His eyes darken, as if he likes a good dare. "I'll like to see you try."

Lust bleeds into his eyes, as if playing hard to get is turning him on even more. He brings his lips dangerously close to mine and kisses me passionately. In an instant, I'm lost. I can't help responding and I melt against him. My fingers fist the collar of his shirt, and my tongue dances to the rhythm of his.

A quiet moan escapes my lips as I close my eyes and kiss him back.

God, I'm not supposed to enjoy this as much as I am.

He pulls away just before I forget we're surrounded by family, friends, and murderers, and there's a victorious glint in his eyes. "You're mine from this moment on, malyshka. Mine to fuck, mine to protect, and mine to torture."

I swallow. "I'm not fucking property," I say with a rasp.

He places two fingers beneath my chin and tilts my face to his. "Let another man touch you, and you'll know how cruel I can be."

I know he means every word and every threat. Men like him are possessive and would rather die than let another man touch what is theirs. Still, a part of me is clinging desperately to whatever dignity I have left.

I've been forced to leave my family and marry a man I hate. I won't let him walk all over me, too. So, I look him in the eyes and say, "Let another girl touch you, and you'll realize how quickly a bitch can lose her hands."