Chapter 20

Chapter

Twenty

"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."

― Oscar Wilde

Alexsei

I tossed the bag onto Mankiev's table, and without missing a beat, he started counting the cash inside. 500k, to be fucking exact.

"Perfect," he said, rubbing his hands together. "You'll see, my daughter will know how to keep you happy ."

I didn't want to dwell on what he meant, because if I did, I'd probably end up putting a bullet in his head. So, I just focused on signing our wedding contract.

After watching Francesco Ricci's fingers linger on her face and seeing the way she smiled at him, a faint blush spreading across her skin, I felt a fierce pang of jealousy—something I'd never experienced with any woman before.

Then, after spending the night at her place, watching her sleep with her face pressed against my chest, her warm breath on my skin, and her leg tangled with mine, I knew I had to claim her.

I wanted to make sure no one else even thought about having her.

So, I snapped a simple picture, knowing it'd set everything ablaze but also satisfy my damn desires. I was hell-bent on having her in my bed, and if marriage was the only damn way, then fine. I needed a wife anyway.

"Let's grab dinner tonight," Mankiev grunted, raising his vodka. "I'll make sure Caia's there to hear the good news."

I took a drag of my cigar. "Perfect."

I was sure Caia would put up a fight, maybe even try to run, but I'd been tailing her for days.

My days were spent ensuring her safety but also catching glimpses of her when she wasn't looking. She moved through the streets with her head down, lost in the rhythm of her music, trying to blend into the background.

The girl I met a few weeks ago—high heels, feline eyes, confident red lips—felt like a completely different person from the one engaged in mundane tasks. It was as if Caia embodied two entirely different personas in one. And fuck, that turned me on even more.

Mankiev grinned, a sinister glint in his eyes. "The wedding's happening tonight here, at the Manor. That way, Caia can leave with you right away."

I nodded, blowing out a puff of cigar smoke. "Works for me. The sooner, the better."

Mankiev chuckled, taking a sip of his vodka before rising from his seat. "Just make sure my daughter knows who's in charge. If she steps out of line, you set her straight; otherwise, she can be a pain in the ass."

I clenched my fists, struggling to keep from punching his ugly face. In a twisted way, I was almost relieved that Caia was now mine. I'd never let him near her again. This bastard didn't deserve to be her father or have any part in her life.

Mankiev must've sensed my irritation because he cleared his throat and quickly left the room.

I couldn't help but wonder what Caia was up to. Maybe she was out there, snapping pictures of unsuspecting strangers or reading heartwarming stories to her grandma, blissfully unaware that her life had taken a one-way trip to my arms.

She'd probably call it hell, but the girl clearly had some PTSD, so I'm cutting her some slack.

"I can't believe you're still going through with it." Volk strolled over, casually pouring himself a glass of vodka, his hands still stained with blood.

"Why not?" I shot back with a smirk.

He shrugged. "Never thought you were the marrying type. Honestly, why bother? Let's ditch the whole thing. We could hit the town, meet up with Marina and her crazy cousins."

"Nah. I need a beauty nap. I'm getting engaged tonight, in case you forgot."

Volk scoffed. "Right. Sweet dreams of your happily ever after. As if a nap's gonna fix that ugly mug of yours."

"At least I won't have to pay for women, unlike someone I know."

He shot me the middle finger before sauntering off.

Typical.

I glanced at my bloodied knuckles, cursing under my breath. My fist was still throbbing, but hell, I should've hit Mankiev harder.

After our little announcement, Caia looked so fucking shocked I thought she'd pass out right there—white as a ghost. But the second her fucking father slapped her, I saw red. The look on her face—the flush of her cheek, the tears welling up, and the trembling of her lips—sent me over the edge. I should've torn that bastard apart right then and there. But she stopped me. That small, fucking helpless plea held me back.

Forcing her to marry me and killing her father on the same night? Even I knew that'd be fucking pushing it.

I slid into the seat, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the car. Igor's eyes flicked to me, his brows furrowed, but he kept his mouth shut as the engine roared to life and we pulled away from the restaurant. Still, I knew he was seething underneath.

"Boss—"

"I fucking told you to stay the hell away from that girl, Alexsei," he snapped. "But you didn't listen."

"Well—"

"Now look at you. Not only are you stuck with her, but with Mankiev breathing down your neck for the rest of your damn life."

I clenched my jaw, staring out the window as the city blurred past.

I knew he wasn't wrong.

But still a big part of me knew that the little witch was fucking worth it.

Igor kept going, his voice a low growl. "You're a Silas, son. You didn't listen to me, so now you know what's waiting for you. You're gonna pay for this mistake, one way or another. "

Yep, my little betrayal was going to be punished. That much was clear.

"Can it wait though?" I muttered. "Don't want to have fucking bruises all over my face on my wedding day. Can't have the bride running for the hills before we even say ‘I do.'"

Igor snorted. "Pretty sure she's already planning her escape."

He was right, of course.

Caia was likely scrambling to find a way out, desperate to ditch this nightmare of a wedding. The thought twisted something sharp in my gut.

I leaned back, a grim smile tugging at my lips. "I know, but I'll find her and bring her back where she belongs."

He sighed, navigating the winding roads toward the Manor as snow devoured the asphalt like a ravenous beast. "Your condo in Krasnodar? It's mine now. Consider it your punishment for not listening to me. Don't want to ruin that pretty face of yours, do we?"

I bought that condo a few years back for a million.

Now it's probably worth three million, but honestly, I've barely set foot in it—too busy drowning in the chaos of Moscow.

So, he can have it all he wants.

"Great," I muttered, a laugh escaping my lips. "Just what every groom wants—an empty condo and a runaway bride."

He shot me a look that could slice through steel. "Keep it up, and you won't just be losing your condo. You'll be losing your fucking teeth too, son."