Wed to the Russian Biker: A Mafia Romance

by Bella Rose

  Courtney’s other friend, Monique, appeared by her side. “This is so gorgeous! I can’t wait to get married!”

  “I think we’re technically not supposed to be out here,” Courtney murmured. “The bridesmaids are supposed to be helping the bride get ready in that little antechamber inside the cathedral.”

  Monique gave a little moan of envy. “Who gets married outside the church? It’s so, so bold! It’s like Bella is a total trendsetter. You know this will become the ultimate new wedding trend.”

  “More like the cathedral couldn’t accommodate the five hundred guests her father demanded be invited to the nuptials,” Courtney said, trying not to be too sarcastic. “That meant they had to settle for having the wedding cover the entire church grounds and not just the building.”

  Courtney attempted to surreptitiously scratch her head. Her long honey-colored hair had been pulled back from her face so tightly she could have sworn she should be unable to blink. The florist had provided little flower wreaths for every attendant’s hair. Courtney was ready to rip the pins out of her hair and give her scalp a rest. But for now, that would only make her situation worse.

  “Oh look! There’s the wedding planner!” Monique was waving to the very official-looking woman with the earpiece on and a severe expression on her face.

  Courtney grabbed her friend’s hand and yanked it down. “Don’t get her attention on purpose! We’ll get sent back to wedding prep hell!”

  “Girls!” The wedding planner’s sharp voice made Courtney wince. “Get your behinds back to the dressing room. The bride needs your help for her big day, and I don’t want to be searching all over the cathedral for naughty bridesmaids later on today!”

  Courtney hated being taken to task like this. Her father did it to her all the time. It made her feel ten years old again. So she gave the wedding planner a deadpan stare. What did it matter to Courtney if the woman hated her? “I hardly think Bella will miss two out of ten attendants. Honestly. The groomsman I’m supposed to be paired up with didn’t even bother to show up for the rehearsal last night. Shouldn’t you be more worried about him screwing everything up?”

  The wedding planner drew herself up so tall that Courtney was surprised she didn’t hear the woman’s spine snap in half. “You’d better listen to me, you spoiled little brat,” the woman snarled. “Your father just contacted me, very adamant that I find a place in my very busy schedule to plan your upcoming nuptials. Either you toe the line here today or I’ll have to tell him that his pretty princess has such a bad attitude that I don’t care to work with her.”

  Courtney froze. No. He wouldn’t dare! They had discussed this. Her father had promised her that there was no pressure to marry his business partner’s spoiled bastard of a son.

  “That’s what I thought!” The wedding planner took Courtney’s silence for acquiescence. “So if you don’t want to disappoint Daddy and be the laughingstock of your snobby little circle of friends, you’d better behave. Remember, you need me far more than I need you.”

  The wedding planner spun on her heel and stalked off like a lioness that had just taken down a gazelle. Courtney could only stare openmouthed after her and wonder if her entire world was about to crumble.

  “Ahem.” Monique cleared her throat. “Is she talking about Creighton Kemper?”

  “I think so,” Courtney whispered.

  Monique still seemed to be waiting for something. Finally she heaved a big sigh. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

  “No.”

  “Wait.” Monique’s pretty face crinkled into a confused expression. “So nobody proposed. You didn’t accept. And now some wedding planner with a stick stuck up her ass is informing you that she’s been hired by your father to plan your wedding?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  Courtney started heading back toward the cathedral with Monique in tow. “Yeah. I don’t get it either.”

  The two women made it all the way back to the bride’s little prep room just in time for the champagne toast. Bella was in her element. The daughters of the most elite families in the city surrounded her. She was the center of attention. And it was immediately evident that she was also a little bit tipsy.

  “There’s my girls!” Bella shouted, sounding both giddy and tipsy, a truly winning combination for their adorable friend. “Now we can start the party! Where have you guys been?”

  Monique opened her mouth to speak, but Courtney cut her off. Monique had a bad habit of being a little too honest when it came to gossipy news. “We were just admiring the beautiful setup outside!” Courtney gushed. “It’s so pretty, Bells. You’re the luckiest girl ever!”

  “Toby is such a doll!” Bella agreed. She made a gesture and a young woman in a black-and-white uniform hustled over to Monique and Courtney with a tray of champagne glasses. “Now take your drinks and let’s toast to my awesomeness!”

  Courtney glanced around at the friends she’d had all through college. There were ten of them, all dressed in pale yellow. They all wore wreaths of flowers in their hair, and they were all looking like they’d been pinched and prodded within an inch of their life to look like an article out of Martha Stewart Weddings. Was this really what she wanted in life? Was she destined to be the next half-drunk bride schlepping down the aisle?

  God save me now.

  * * *

  Mikhail Krachenko shifted from his right foot to his left. He hoped he didn’t look too bored. Or really, what did he care for such things? He and Toby Pinckney were business associates. Toby and his family were one of the first legitimate businesses to recognize Mikhail’s fledgling security firm not long after he’d gone out on a limb and tried to go legal. That was more than five years ago now, and Toby had become one of Mikhail’s closest friends.

  Which apparently meant that Mikhail was required by some male code he’d been heretofore unaware of, to volunteer his services as groomsman. It shouldn’t have been necessary. Toby had plenty of blue-blooded asshole friends who had been hanging around since prep school waiting for the chance to be in Toby Pinckney’s wedding. After all, the Pinckneys were the closest thing Americans had to royalty.

  One of the other groomsmen nudged his right shoulder. “This shit is so damn boring,” the guy murmured. “I just said yes because there are ten freaking bridesmaids who will all be drunk and horny at the reception.”

  Mikhail ruminated on the fact that they—the ten groomsmen and their penguin leader, Toby—were standing at an altar waiting for a freaking bride to walk down the aisle and the guy beside him was only concerned about drunk, horny bridesmaids. It was truly a beautiful illustration of the difference between men and women.

  Mikhail let his eyes glaze over and his thoughts stray. He was more concerned with his latest business deal than this stupid wedding anyway. Mikhail was finally closing in on the one man he had long had a desire to see humbled. Finally, after more than ten years of waiting, Gordon Piers-Cameron was having the sort of financial trouble that made him vulnerable to a man like Mikhail and his much more solvent company.

  A smile stretched across Mikhail’s face. Gordon Piers-Cameron had been in a position to help Mikhail once upon a time. He had not only chosen not to help a young man trying to make his way in the world, he had opted to send Mikhail’s life into a tailspin that had taken years to recover from. But that didn’t matter now. Piers-Cameron was the one who was going to come begging. And Mikhail was going to love every second of that experience.

  There was a swell of music, and Mikhail realized that while he had been ruminating on his upcoming triumph over an old enemy, his friend Toby’s wedding had been going full steam ahead. The bridesmaids were all strung out on the opposite side of the altar from the groomsmen. Toby was waiting. And now the bride was walking down the aisle to meet her future husband with a very definite and eager spring in her step.

  In spite of his personal success, Mikhail felt a moment’s envy for his friend. Despi
te all of the hype about royalty marrying royalty and keeping money in the family, Toby really loved Bella. If the girl’s expression was anything to go by, she really loved him too.

  The sight brought a memory slamming back into Mikhail’s mind. Sixteen-year-old Mikhail with his arms around a very beautiful fifteen-year-old girl with long silky hair and big brown eyes that always seemed to see right through him. He could remember the sunshine-and-flowers scent of her skin and the cherry flavor of her lip gloss. She had been all that Mikhail wanted. She was light and acceptance in a world that had always seemed so dark and foreboding.

  The memory faded and Mikhail felt himself scowling as he recalled what came next. Her father had caught them together and announced that no amount of success or money would ever make Mikhail Krachenko good enough for that man’s daughter. Mikhail was nothing but a fatherless delinquent with ties to the Russian mob and a rap sheet that had started before he became a teenager.

  It was strange. Mikhail almost never thought about that time in his life. He pushed memories like that one out of his mind and forgot about them. Women were nothing but a commodity these days. If he ever wound up standing at an altar with some woman who intended to become his wife, it would have to be because there was a huge payoff involved. Mikhail had no time for petty attraction, wooing the fairer sex, or even worrying about whether or not he remembered a woman’s name past two in the morning.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife!” The minister raised his arms and shouted the words as if he was more excited than the couple that had just tied the knot. “It is my honor to present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Toby Pinckney.”

  There was a raucous round of applause from the enormous assembled audience. Over five hundred people were clapping, and every eye on the property was glued to the happy couple standing less than a foot away from Mikhail. He at least attempted to slap a neutral expression on his face. There was no need to be glowering in the background of every candid picture that the high-priced photographer attempted to take.

  The newly married couple began their trek up the aisle. As directed, the attendants paired up in the center of the aisle in front of the altar and began their long walk as well. Mikhail fell in line, feeling ready to be done with this whole charade and wishing he could somehow weasel out of the reception.

  “Mikhail?”

  The whisper took him completely by surprise. He found himself staring dumbly into a pair of soft brown eyes that sent him rocketing back to a hot summer night a few months before his seventeenth birthday.

  The air gushed out of his lungs, taking one word with it. “Courtney.”

  Thankfully she had the presence of mind to grab his arm. They began walking and Mikhail couldn’t help but wonder at how right it felt to have this woman on his arm again for the first time in such a long, long time.

  Chapter Two

  Courtney was having trouble breathing. She sat behind a huge urn filled with flowers and draped in ribbons. She wasn’t too embarrassed to admit she was hiding. She was at a wedding reception full of people and she was trying her best to crawl into a hole and pretend that the whole thing was over because it had disaster written all over it.

  What in the hell was Mikhail Krachenko doing here? He was dead. Her father had told her that he was dead. He’d been killed in some mob deal gone wrong nearly ten years ago. He couldn’t be alive. Except he was. And her whole body was still tingling in excitement just from the knowledge that he was alive!

  “Courtney, what are you doing back here?” Monique stood a few feet away, hands propped on her narrow hips and a frown on her face. “You’re being stupid. At least your escort was hot. Did you even see mine? The guy is hideous! The only thing that will get that man some pussy is his bank account. I swear!”

  “Monique, please go away?” Courtney begged. “I’m not feeling well.”

  “Is this about that nonsense with your father and Creighton Kemper?” Monique half turned, standing on her tiptoes and not even being shy about seeing if she could peer around the reception hall to see who was there. “I don’t see Creighton, although you know he’s here. He would have to be, right?”

  “Monique!” Courtney moaned. “Please?”

  Monique actually reached down and grabbed Courtney’s arm. “That wedding planner hell bitch has demanded that all bridesmaids report to that column over there because we have to do that stupid dance with the bride and groom and our escorts.”

  “I’m going to be sick,” Courtney said quickly.

  “No you sure as hell aren’t!” Monique argued. “You’re not getting out of this that easily!”

  “I can’t dance with him!”

  “Ooo! Want to switch?” Monique’s eyes gleamed. “I’ll go along with that scheme.”

  Courtney was dragged to her feet. She wobbled on her heels, feeling genuinely ill, but knowing that it was more psychological than anything else. Her father was here somewhere. So was that asshole Creighton. And now Mikhail was here too and she had no idea what to do about it.

  “There!” Monique looped her arm through Courtney’s. “Just follow along and I’ll get you to the rendezvous point.”

  It took Courtney no time at all to spot Mikhail. In fact if she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was actually searching for her amidst the crowd. He looked the same. Sort of. The man was huge! He took up all the space in a room. His shoulders were broad, his waist slim and tapered. His ass was hard and round and pretty damn well perfect. He looked as if he worked out, and there was just something about him that reeked of male power. She would bet that nobody in his life argued with him. Ever. His eyes were so dark they were almost black. Right now they were utterly focused on her with an intensity that made her shiver from head to toe.

  “He was supposed to be dead,” Courtney whispered. “How is it possible that he’s even here?”

  “Who?” Monique wanted to know. “Wait. Do you actually know that guy?”

  MIKHAIL WATCHED COURTNEY mince her way to the dance floor. It almost looked as if the other young woman was dragging Courtney over. The two of them had their heads together and were whispering at a frantic rate. What were they saying and why the hell did he care?

  The other girl was taller, slimmer, and bonier than Mikhail liked. In fact if he was to try and describe the perfect woman, he was pretty certain he would have been describing Courtney to a tee. She was tall with long athletic legs and hips that had just a bit of a curve to them. Her breasts were full and perky, and she had a way of carrying herself that made her entire body sway with a little invitation. Her long hair had been pulled up into a bun on top of her head, but Mikhail could see it was still the color of warm honey. And those eyes were still as enchanting as ever.

  “So, we’re supposed to get partners, right?” Courtney’s friend attempted to grab his hand. “I think I’ll claim you.” The woman stood up and batted her eyelashes right in his face. “You want to get lucky tonight?”

  “Not with you,” Mikhail said flatly.

  The woman was floored by his response. He could tell that she didn’t get turned down often. It was also very apparent she was making a valiant effort on her friend’s behalf. She grabbed his hand again. “My name is Monique. What’s yours?”

  “Monique.” Mikhail gave her his sternest frown. “I’m not going to say this again. I want to talk to Courtney, so step off before I go ahead and embarrass the shit out of you when I make a scene.”

  Monique’s mouth dropped open, but to her credit she stepped back. Mikhail reached for Courtney. Her fingers meshed smoothly with his as though they had spent no time apart. Regardless of anything she might say, her body remembered his. Mikhail wondered if that even mattered.

  The dance began. Around them the guests were all jockeying for a position to see the bride and groom sashay around the floor. Mikhail wondered if Courtney had been trying to avoid dancing with him because she believed he didn’t know how. Maybe she thought he was still that low-life kid from the wrong sid
e of the tracks who didn’t know a thing about acting polite in public or not, embarrassing himself with his ignorance.

  “Let’s dance, shall we?” He raised Courtney’s knuckles to his lips and heard her breath hitch in response.

  COURTNEY WAS GOING to die. He didn’t feel like a ghost. She’d thought briefly at the ceremony that he might be some kind of bizarre doppleganger, but he had known her name.

  “They said your name was Mike.” The words popped out suddenly and she felt like a moron.

  He cocked his head. “Excuse me?”

  She forced herself to focus on the conversation and not the amazing way he carried himself on the dance floor. This was not the sixteen-year-old boy who hadn’t had a clue how to behave in public. This was a man in command of everything. “Last night. You didn’t show up to the wedding rehearsal. The wedding planner kept calling you Mike.”

  Mikhail snorted. “That woman has her head so far up her ass she wouldn’t know any of our names if she was paid to.” He made a sound of mock horror. “Oh wait. She was.”

  “You’re different,” Courtney observed quietly. “Although you’re alive. Maybe you’re not really you.”

  “Alive?” He looked confused.

  They took another turn around the floor, and Courtney could see her father from the corner of her eye. He was craning his neck, trying to see whom it was she was dancing with. This was not going to end well. That was the only thing that Courtney knew for certain.

  “What are you talking about?” Mikhail pressed.

  She could actually feel the force of his personality as he probed for information. Wow. This was the same guy, but he was very different. It was actually sort of a—well, it was a major turn-on. The commanding way he held her, the way he smelled, and even the way he gazed at her as though she were the only woman on earth. It was all surreal and very flattering. Courtney couldn’t ever remember feeling like she was the sole focus of someone’s attention the way she did with him.