I watch him turn and walk away from me. He leaves me completely breathless, confused, and turned on. I let out a sigh as my head falls against the wall behind me. I can’t believe he did that, in the back hallway of our own engagement party.
What the hell just happened?
“YOU LOOK ABSOLUTELY STUNNING,” Brenna, my oldest sister and the closest thing I have to a mother, states with a sniffle.
My black hair is pulled back in a low chignon, a crown of small white flowers adorning my head, instead of a tiara. My sister slips the veil right at the top of my loose bun, jamming the comb into my scalp, causing me to wince. “There, perfect.”
I look at myself in the mirror. This dress is so beautiful, I don’t want to ever take it off. It is cut straight across my neckline with long sleeves and a tight overlay that ends at my waist. My sleeves are sheer lace, as is the top of my chest. The chiffon bodice is tight around my torso and has a sweetheart neckline. My favorite aspect is the wide, thick chiffon band, around my waist.
The rest of the dress softly flows down my body until it skims the ground. The chiffon fabric makes me feel like I’m gliding with each step I take.
The back is the most daring part of the dress. It is completely bare and comes to a deep v at my waist. The cathedral length veil covers my bare back for the church, and the fabric floats out to a long train.
A knock on the door interrupts my gaze, and in walks Oksana. I stare at her in surprise, but she just smiles and continues to walk toward me. She’s much thinner than she was just five months ago, obviously losing much of her baby weight. Though, I thought she was absolutely beautiful with her curvy baby body.
“How are you doing?” she asks as she makes her way toward me. I can hear Brenna cough behind me, but I ignore her.
“I’m okay,” I say, giving her a fake smile.
Oksana’s eyes narrow on me, and I feel like she can see right through me. She doesn’t say anything, though. Instead, she hands me a box.
She scrunches her nose as I open the small box. I gasp at the oval diamond solitaire earrings looking back at me. “I hope you like Cartier. My brother has an obsession with their watches, as if nothing else exists,” Oksana says rolling her eyes.
“Cartier?” I ask, looking at the earrings.
“It’s a brand, Devyn,” Brenna says, sounding snotty and awfully jealous for a married woman in her thirties.
“These are absolutely beautiful,” I whisper, unable to look away from the glittering diamonds.
Oksana waves her hand in the air, “I told him to buy you earrings that matched your engagement ring, but he wouldn’t listen to me. I gave up trying to tell him anything. Word of advice, my brother is stubborn and a pain. Let him think he always gets his way and you’ll be just fine,” she smiles.
I look down at my engagement ring, a pear-shaped diamond that my dad had appraised the day after Timofei slipped it onto my finger. It’s six carats, but my dad wouldn’t tell me how much it’s worth. It must be Cartier as well. While I don’t know a lot about jewelry, I know enough that this brand is extremely expensive.
“I don’t have anything for him,” I gasp as I look up to Oksana in horror.
“Don’t worry about that. You are gift enough.” She winks before she turns and walks out of the room.
I bite my bottom lip and turn to the mirror, taking my costume jewelry earrings out of my ears and replacing them with my new ones, a gift from my husband. Once they’re screwed in, I look at myself again. They’re huge, taking up my entire earlobes, but I cannot deny that they are beautiful.
“Already, he’s spoiling you,” Brenna states. I turn to face her. I watch as she narrows her eyes slightly, before she readjusts her features. “I was worried. When father said that he’d set up this marriage. You were only fifteen—and this guy, this stranger, this Russian, I didn’t know what to expect.”
“But because he’s bought me some jewelry, you’re suddenly comfortable?” I ask disbelievingly.
She shrugs and opens her mouth to say something, but our father walks in. “Ready?” he grunts. I turn to face him with my fake smile firmly in place as I nod. Brenna quickly scoots out of the room, leaving me alone with our father. “After I walk you down this aisle, you will belong to him.”
I nod at his words and try not to tear up. Everything about my life is about to change drastically. My father leans over, and just when I think he’s going to hug me or maybe kiss my cheek, he whispers in my ear. “Do not disappoint or shame me, Devyn. You make him happy, do you understand me?”
Frozen to my spot, my eyes widen in shock when my father straightens himself and pins me with his cold glare. I nod as my stomach twists from his implied warning. I have no doubt that my father would hurt me if I disappointed him in some way.
I’ve been on the receiving end of my father’s punishments before. I’ve seen what he’s done to my brothers when they’ve disappointed him. Once I watched him beat Brenna until she could barely stand because she’d been caught shaming him with a boy.
As a small child, I learned quickly to always stay in the shadows, never make a fuss about anything, and never ever do a single thing that would get me into trouble. I’ve been the model daughter, quiet, dutiful, and agreeable in every way my entire life. Though my father has never paid me much mind, I have no doubt that he’s always kept tabs on me in one way or another.
“I picked you for a reason, Devyn,” he says. I try not to show the amount of surprise that I’m feeling as he continues. “You’ve been a good girl your entire life. You go to church on Sunday and always followed directions. You’ve caused me little trouble. Nothing like your siblings. I’ve never had to truly discipline you. I knew from the moment I met with Pasha that, without a doubt, you would be the perfect wife for Timofei Vetrov. You and you alone will bring peace amongst our organizations and bring together two very powerful groups. Peace, men’s lives, and families, they all depend on how you fulfill this duty I’ve set upon your shoulders,” he grunts before he continues, “Your cousin Kathleen is closer to his age and single, but I have no doubt he’d return her ass after the honeymoon.” I can’t help but bite my tongue. Kathleen is slutty and a bitch. Timofei would no doubt return her, immediately.
“Not you, though, my sweet Devyn. So much like your mother. I know you will be pious, you will be subservient, and you will be the wife he needs. A man like him, the power he is about to obtain—he needs a good woman at his side, one that will never give him trouble. You are that woman.”
I stare at my father in shock. I had no idea he even saw me, let alone thought all of these things about me. I don’t remember my mother very well. She was taken from us when I was only five years old. A drive by shooting. A man meant to take out my father, but he hit her instead. Nobody talks about her, especially not my dad. I’m surprised he’s mentioning her today, and comparing me to her.
“Are you ready?” he asks. I search his eyes, the coolness reappearing from our short, warm encounter.
“I am, dad. I won’t let you down,” I whisper.
“I know you won’t,” he states as the wedding planner opens the door. She gives me a dirty look, for the millionth time today; and I ignore her, for the millionth time today.
My father and I make our way to the closed double doors. When they open, they will reveal me to a church full of at least eight hundred guests and my new husband. I decided not to have a wedding party. There are no bridesmaids, and Timofei didn’t send a list of groomsmen. I would only have Shannon at my side if I could choose anyway. My father would probably force family members on me, so I decided not to have any at all. I had no desire to have the headache of a bunch of bitchy girls.
The wedding march begins on the organ, and two people open the church doors. There are strangers standing on each side of the aisle. I have no clue who was invited, I wasn’t privy to the guest list.
It doesn’t matter who is here, as I can only focus on the tall blond man who waits for me at the e
nd. His focus is on me and me alone. I feel as though he can see right through my dress. The way he’s looking at me is predatory and seductive all rolled into one.
He frightens me, but thrills me at the exact same time. I haven’t seen him since my engagement party. I haven’t talked to him since the kiss we shared, and I hope against hope that there is more of that to come—that this man who was thoughtful enough to send me diamond earrings before our ceremony will be a man that I can easily love and who will love me back.
As the doors open, my gaze connects to hers and I cannot look away. I have been thinking about her lips, the way she tastes, and the way her soft body felt pressed against mine for the past five months. The day is finally here. She’s mine. She’s also legal, and I can’t stop myself from smiling at that fact.
The closer she comes, I let my eyes scan her dress. I’m surprised by how demure it is. I like it, it makes her look more sophisticated than the slutty dress she wore to the party, and I hope that I will get more of this soft creature out in public, and maybe a little more of the slutty one in private.
I hold out my hand, and her father places her small one in mine. I give her fingers a gentle squeeze as she steps up to my side. I bend down slightly before whispering into her ear, “Happy Birthday, Devyn.”
She gasps and looks up at me, almost with awe, before she breathes, “Thank you.”
When we turn to face each other, I notice that she’s wearing the diamonds I had Oksana deliver to her while she was getting ready. We say our vows, traditional of course, and then I slip her wedding band onto her finger. It’s Cartier, specially made to fit with her engagement ring perfectly. I grin at the sight of my diamonds on her finger—she’s mine now.
She slips a thick black band on my finger, and the weight of it feels odd, but I press my thumb against it and grin. I like the way it feels.
“You may kiss your bride,” the priest states. I bend down, pressing my lips to hers, trying to keep it decent for the church, even though just the small taste of her has me wanting more. “May I present for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Timofei Vetrov.
The church fills with the sound of ringing bells as I grip her fingers tightly in mine and start to descend the few steps that take us to the aisle. I catch the eye of my sister, who is wiping her tears from her eyes as she smiles at me. Mika is holding their child, and he lifts his chin at me.
I ignore my father, who is glaring at me, something obviously working behind his eyes as I pass by him. I tug my bride alongside my body as we walk toward the back of the church, not liking his gaze on her, and wishing to shield her from him.
There is a black Mercedes limousine waiting for us, and I curl my lip at the sight of it. I fucking hate German made cars. My Bugatti is French, and one thing I enjoy about the French are their love for the finer things in life. They give an attention to detail that cannot be surpassed. Their craftsmanship is above anything else I’ve ever experienced.
“Mr. Vetrov,” Camilla calls out huskily from my side.
I look over to her and scowl. I haven’t fucked her since the day of my engagement party. After meeting and tasting Devyn, Camilla no longer appealed to me.
Actually, no other woman has appealed to me since the one kiss I shared with my, then, fiancée. “I hope everything is to your satisfaction. If there is anything I can do, please do not hesitate…” Her fingers dip in her cleavage, and I find her to be not only extremely obvious and unprofessional, but disrespectful as well.
“I won’t be needing any of your services,” I grunt as I press my hand against Devyn’s back and guide her into the car.
I don’t bother looking back toward Camilla as I follow behind my wife, careful not to soil the train of her dress with the bottoms of my dirty shoes.
Once Devyn and I are situated in the back of the limo and the door closes us in, I turn to her. I take her hand in mine before I look into her eyes. They’re so light blue that they look almost clear, like the color of a pool of water.
“Hello,” she states. Her lips tremble as does her voice.
Grinning, I lift my hand to cup her cheek. She flinches out of fear, but I don’t look away from her. I keep my gaze connected to hers. “My wife,” I murmur. She gulps and nods, looking entirely terrified beyond belief. “My very beautiful wife.”
Devyn’s breath hitches as I lean forward and gently brush my lips against hers. She tastes sweeter than she did all those months ago. Maybe because she’s finally mine. I don’t know, and I don’t care. I can’t wait to taste the rest of her, and I find myself wondering if her taste will be different because she’s pure? The thought causes me to pull away slightly and furrow my brow—I’ve never been with a virgin before.
“This reception, it’s something you want to go to?” I ask as I sit back against the seat, releasing her cheek from my grasp.
“We don’t have to. Whatever you wish is fine,” she says, her voice extremely soft—almost a whisper.
I fucking hate it. I don’t like meek women, and I have a feeling she’s too scared of me to speak up right now. She doesn’t know me, and she doesn’t know what I like. She doesn’t know that I was raised by a strong woman who knew her place. She doesn’t know that my sister is fucking granite, she’s so strong, as are the women who are married to the highest ranking Bratva men that I consider friends.
“I didn’t tell you what I wanted. I asked you what you wanted, Devyn. When I ask you your opinion, I want it. What I don’t want is for you to do whatever the fuck that was.”
Watching her, she runs her straight white teeth over her bottom lip, worrying it. The sight makes me fucking hard, and I can do nothing but watch her.
“I don’t know when I’ll see some of the people who will be there again. My family and my friends. I spent so much time picking out the decorations and designing the cake that I would like to see it.”
Taking her hand in mine, I squeeze her fingers until she lifts her pretty blue eyes to mine, and I smile. “Then we’ll go; for a while, at least. Our flight leaves in the mid-morning. We can afford to spend some time partying,” I murmur.
“Flight?”
“France, Devochka. We’re going to Paris for a week, then Nice for a week, before we return back to the city,” I announce with a grin.
Devyn gasps, and I watch as a small smile tips her lips. “I’ve never been to France before,” she whispers.
I give her a wink before I lean down and press my lips to the tip of her nose. She’s so goddamn cute. I’m wondering how I’ll keep from spoiling the absolute fuck out of her.
For a girl I had no desire to marry, she’s turned into a woman that I can already see will take a piece of me. It feels too easy and too fucking good to be true. I wonder if it will all come crashing down around me. Perhaps because of my father and all his shit, it’s not even a matter of if, but more like when.
AT FIRST GLANCE, TIMOFEI Vetrov is scary. I mean, he’s scary hot, but I know who he is, who his father is, and what he does for a living. His occupation is the same as every other man in my life, except he’s Russian and that is unfamiliar. If he were a member of my father’s group, if he were Irish, then I would have a better grip on him.
Plus, all the stuff my dad said before I walked down the aisle has me on edge as well. Then Timofei looks at me, and I swear I melt. When he tells me that he’s taking me to France, France, for two weeks on our honeymoon, I turn into a complete puddle at his feet.
Except, when he said he wanted to know my opinion, he wanted to know if I really wanted to go to the reception, it makes me think that he’s not as scary as I originally thought. Not to mention, the kiss he gave me at our engagement party, I want more of that—more of him.
The limousine stops in front of Gotham Hall, and my mouth automatically gapes open. Camilla was a bitch from hell, but this is absolutely gorgeous. It’s all lit up in blue lights, and they shine behind the Corinthian columns of the building.
“Devyn?” Timofei’s voice calls.
I turn to face him. He’s already out of the car and holding his hand out for me, a small smirk on his lips.
I place my hand in his and, as ladylike as possible, scoot out of the car. A photographer meets us and snaps photographs as I take a step. “Oh, my veil, it’s too long. Timofei, can you take the comb out?” I ask.
Timofei looks at me, staring at me in what I can only describe as surprise before he literally shakes his body once and walks around behind me. A few seconds later, the weight of my cathedral length veil is lifted from my head, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Turning to the side, I watch as he balls up the veil before tossing it into the back of the car. Balls up my veil. Balls it, as if it’s a fifteen-dollar tank top.
“Did you… did you roll my veil into a ball?” I breathe.
He shrugs and grins at me. “And?”
“My sister is going to go ballistic when she finds out. Do you know how long she looked for the perfect veil,” I hiss before I slap my hand over my mouth.
Timofei throws back his head, and a booming laugh escapes his throat. I do nothing but watch him for a beat before he tips his chin and presses his lips against my forehead.
“She can try to bring it up with me, but she won’t get too far, since I paid for it,” he chuckles.
“You what?” I gasp.
“Your father paid for the rehearsal dinner, devochka. My father was obligated to pay for the wedding; but the last wedding he was in charge of was a clusterfuck, so I wouldn’t let him do shit. I paid for it all,” he shrugs as he places his palm against my lower back and pushes me toward the front entrance of the hall.
“That’s, that’s—” I stutter.
“What I did, and it’s nothing. My bride deserves the best.”
I don’t get a chance to say anything in response as we walk into the reception room. I’m rendered completely speechless. It’s so absolutely stunning.
The light peach and white flowers fill every possible space. Silvery fabric drapes along every single wall in panels. The lighting is blue, to match the same as the outside of the building, and there’s a huge monogram light on the dancefloor with our names—Timofei V Devyn.
Betrothed to the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 8) Page 2
