We join the wedding party waiting for us by the entrance to the hall where the wedding will be conducted.
I walk toward my father and take his hand. His curly hair, unruly as usual, is smoothed back today. Despite the crude scar on his cheek, the look gives him a refined edge. But he still reminds me of an older Sirius Black from Harry Potter.
Dad looks like the proud man he always shows the world, but nervousness lurks in his eyes.
I understand the nerves. I'm not just his only daughter, I'm his only child.
My dad kept me wrapped in a silk cocoon before Mom died, but after her death, he tucked me away in a glass house, keeping me safe from cartels and drug lords and any guy other than Richard.
I give him a big smile of reassurance, letting him know I'll be okay. He leans in and kisses my forehead just like he used to do when he tucked me into bed at night.
"You look beautiful, my daughter." His voice holds heartfelt emotion he never shares with the public. As head of the enforcers in the Bratva, he would never risk showing any weakness.
"Thank you, Dad."
The grand doors open, and harp music playing The Wedding March filters out into the hallway.
Dad and I link arms then proceed into the hall.
There are over a hundred guests here who are mostly officials from the Knights, but the moment we step inside, my eyes land on Richard standing at the altar waiting for me. He looks so handsome and not nervous at all.
Aleksander Ivanov, leader of the Knights, is in the center ready to officiate. Because Richard's family is part of the elite group in the Knights, Aleksander will marry us.
Next to Richard are his two younger brothers, Zakh and Malik. Like the rest of the men here from the Knights, they're all wearing the black knight's tunic, which has the silver Raventhorn crest embossed on the chest.
I try to focus on how handsome and happy Richard looks, but seeing him in that uniform reminds me that the Knights are a secret society.
A powerful one dating back to the Viking age who now owns the Komarovski Bratva. As well as leading the Knights, Aleksander Ivanov is also the Pakhan of the Komarovski and the man we all answer to.
I never tend to think about those parts because everyone is so normal—and of course no one talks about the Knights unless behind locked doors.
I think of it now because my family have always been part of the Bratva, and me marrying Richard is a great honor for us. I'll be the bridge that will link my family to the Knights. The same rules and oaths that bind Richard will bind me, too.
On top of that, Richard is about to inherit his father's empire and take over his position in the Bratva, so he'll be the Pakhan's second-in-command. As his wife, a lot will be expected of me. I must be proper, obedient, and, most of all, compliant.
When we reach Richard, Dad gives him my hand, and we face each other.
I look into his deep brown eyes, feeling like we were always meant to be.
Aleksander starts with an Old Norse blessing, and I smile as Richard runs his thumb over my palm.
"Now repeat after me." Aleksander raises his hand and his voice. "I—"
The door at the back of the hall smashes into the wall.
We all turn and stare at a tall muscular man standing in the doorway. He's at least six foot four with shiny black hair cut into a sharp faux hawk and a neatly trimmed beard covering his chiseled jaw.
He's wearing a black biker jacket and leather pants, which make him look like a drifter. But the lines of muscle along his huge arms suggest he might have served in the military. Or did time in the state penitentiary.
He walks in carrying a large brown envelope, and his expression is don't-mess-with-me angry. Everything about him is rough and rugged with the potent air of danger I'm used to from the ruthless men in the mafia.
Thick raven brows lower when he gets closer and Richard steps in front of me.
The gesture makes the man narrow his eyes and clench his jaw like he's gearing up for a fight.
Despite his menacing vibe, there's a storybook prince thing about him that's alluring and compelling. When his striking hazel eyes meet mine, our gazes lock. And I feel a connection.
As if he read my mind, his stare intensifies, turning into something sinfully scandalous. He does a full sweep of my body, giving me an I-could-fuck-you-if-I-wanted-to look.
A spike of heat darts to my groin, and for a moment, I'm so lost, I forget where I am.
The stranger, however, doesn't even bother to hide the obvious fact that he's checking me out. Or how inappropriate he is. Surely, he can see I'm about to take my vows.
"Can I help you?" Aleksander stares the man down with raw scrutiny.
His question snaps my thoughts back to reality.
"Yes, you can, Pakhan." The man dips his head respectfully. I notice he speaks with a slight accent I can't quite place. At first, it sounds like the mixed Russian/American most of the men I know speak, but there's a difference. "I am Alessio Scarfoni."
"Scarfoni?" Richard drops my hand. His whole body goes rigid. And I see surprise, then disbelief, before he shuts down.
"I object to this wedding." The man's voice sounds like thunder, sending a shockwave through my heart.
"Why?" Richard's voice is just as demanding, just as powerful.
"This wedding cannot continue because you are not Evgeni Scarfoni's eldest son. I am." He holds up the envelope. "As per this contract, it is me who is supposed to marry this woman. And me who is next in line to inherit all that our father owns."
AlessioBlood drains from Camille Galitze's already pale skin when she hears my venomous words of objection.As her full lips part in shock, I instantly think of her mouth around my cock, and I find myself smiling like the psycho I am.I know how strange I must look to all the shocked people observing me, but I don't care. Stealing Camille is just the beginning of what I plan to do.My brother's betrothed is just a pretty emblem of his imminent defeat and the first of many trophies I will be taking.There, there, Princess. This monster won't be eating you just yet. But I do plan to very soon.Camille is truly beautiful and tempting, even to a man like me who's had his fair share of women.Her eyes are a bright crystal blue, like the Icelandic glaciers I love sailing around, and that hair of hers is cotton white like the old Norse paintings of Valkyries. There's a fire burning within those eyes that's fitting to the description, and I'd bet underneath that dainty princess exterior, she
AlessioUther Galitze, Camille's father. The monster.The fucking monster who killed my mother. He thought he killed me too when he set the barn on fire that night so long ago in Russia.He's staring at me. Afraid of me now, because he knows what I could do to him with just one word.Since death is too good for people like him, I planned a special punishment.A special game, like the ones he used to play with me that made me fear for my life. The game begun today as he walked his daughter down the aisle, knowing from our little encounter days ago what was going to happen to her next."You, Leif. You knew about this. Didn't you?" Richard spits, glaring at Leif. "You planned this.""I did." Leif sets his shoulders back. Unfazed by Richard's rage, he stares at him as if he's ready to charge like a wild bull. He might be sixty, with a head and beard full of gray hair, but he can still snap any motherfucker in half no matter their age."How the fuck could you do this to me?"Leif gives him
CamilleThe wedding is off.God, what a nightmare.And now I'm being taken to Alessio Scarfoni's house.The thought weakens me, and I feel so fragile I fear I may shatter into a million pieces.Thank God Dad's arm is still around me. If he weren't holding me up and moving us down the corridor toward the car, I don't think I could do it myself.The echo of my heels against the marble floor is a welcome distraction from the turbulence in my mind, but I can't stop myself from freaking out about what will happen to me. And Richard. I've never seen him look so defeated, and so powerless.I'm desperately trying to hold it together, but I can't.How the fuck must I? What the hell are the chances of my life being ruined by Richard's long-lost brother? And surely, he can't be serious about marrying me.Every time I try to process it, I feel like I'm losing my mind.But when we walk past the stunning hall decorated for the reception, my heart gives a hard squeeze. From the rose-gold tablecloths
AlessioLeif takes us to the closest meeting room, which is just as ornate as the rest of the building.I'm the last to enter and close the door. My guests don't sit. They stand together facing me, waiting for answers."Well, start talking," Richard demands."Yes, I'm eager to find out how I have another brother I never knew about," Malik says, and Zakh nods."My mother was Fryeda Polinsky," I begin. "She and our father grew up together in Moscow. He was with her before your mother." I pause, glancing at Mira, who looks more ghostly than before. Leif told me everything about the past and never shied away from the possibility that Mira was at least aware Mom existed and was involved with my father. She didn't know about me, though. No one did. "They broke up when he was promised to Mira, but he didn't know she was pregnant with me. She didn't tell him until I was twelve. However, things didn't go as expected. She didn't know that my existence as his firstborn son threatened his busines
AlessioWhen we reach the end of the corridor, I stop when my name is called. It's Uther.He rushes up to me, out of breath. His face is red, and his eyes are filled with panic."This can't work. You can't take my daughter. She's an innocent in this." He shakes his graying head, contorting his face so his scar becomes more pronounced. "There must be something else I can do."I give him a radiant smile, enjoying his trepidation the way he enjoyed mine when he tried to kill me. "Uther Galitze, you know there's nothing else you can do. You also know what will happen if you try."This motherfucker knows my threats aren't empty, nor are they something to be trifled with. I've already taken Camille and his business through the marriage contract. I will also be relieving him of his senior position in the Bratva. Meaning the fucker will lose everything. I would have loved to kick him out completely, but I didn't want to raise any red flags.He knows if I unleash all the serious dirt I have on
CamilleResting my head against the satin wall, I stare at the sea in the distance through the long casement windows. I'd think the intricate carvings in the wood were beautifully designed if I weren't trapped behind them like a bird in a cage.My mother believed patience was the most powerful of virtues.I always agreed. But there are some situations where not even the highest level of patience can help you.Mine is without a doubt one of them.Two hours ago, I arrived at the massive compound of Alessio Scarfoni's mansion on Cape Cod. The house is one of the old-style Tudor homes you'd normally find in Salem, but his is ostentatious and has a haunted vibe.The idea of being in a haunted mansion is creepy enough, but I feel like I'm trapped in one of my nightmares.When I arrived, a rude-looking woman with silver hair and an upturned nose met us on the driveway. Then, without a word, she escorted me to this huge master bedroom I knew straightaway belonged to a man. It's the décor. Dar
CamilleHe walks in, and the door swings shut, the sound of the click lingering like a reminder that I don't know who I'm dealing with.The biker jacket is gone, but he still has the same drifter look, enhanced by the expanse of muscle on his arms, which I can clearly see now, bulging against his fitted T-shirt.My eyes flick to the clothes folded in his hands. I spot a gray T-shirt and something stretchy like yoga pants. I assume those are for me, and my stomach drops.The beginning of a smile tips his full, sensual lips, revealing dimples that make his already handsome face more striking. I stare back at him, trying to figure him out, but I can't. His personality seems to have several things going on, and I'm not sure what part of him I'm going to get.From the predatory vibe emanating from him, I know to stay focused because despite everything, he's dangerous. All the Scarfonis are, but this one is the one to watch.Especially with that rune on his wrist.The only time I've ever se
Panic writhes through me as I realize how much danger I'm truly in, but I still can't think past the terror. All I want to do is get out of here and away from him."I'm not yours." I try to imbue my voice with the strength I summoned before, but it's evident I'm scared."Say whatever you want. Truth is truth. Now change out of that dress and come downstairs for something to eat."I shake my head. "No. I don't want anything from you. I want to go home.""This is your home now.""Fuck you!" I shove at his granite chest, hurting my wrists.He laughs, mocking me again. "Fuck me? Is that a request, Valkyrie?"The pet names—princess, baby girl, and Valkyrie—just enrage me."You fucking bastard. You know it's not a damn request. Let me go.""I said no, and this is the last time I'm going to tell you to take off the dress.""Fuck. You."I don't even get to entertain my next thought. Alessio shoves me hard against the wall, grabs the top of my dress, and tears it right off me like a bodice-rip