Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Keep breathing,” Tigran murmurs to me. He reaches out and takes my hands in his. “Watch me, pisik. Me and me only.”
I bite my lip hard enough to hurt and stare at him. His eyes are a deep chocolate brown with little tinges of honey at the edges. They’re beautiful, so different from light-colored Russian ones. I’m used to blues, so many ice blues, but he’s not like the men I grew up with.
He’s the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. His skin’s a deep tan. His lips are a soft pink. I hold his gaze, and it should be painful as hell. I can’t remember the last time I held eye contact with a total stranger.
But for some reason, it calms me down. Not all the way—I’m still freaking out—but enough that I don’t fall down on my face again.
“Vows now, pisik,” he whispers, hands squeezing mine. “Almost finished.”
I nod meekly, feeling small and silly. I’m the tiniest person in this stupid room. Any one of these men could crush me. Except I feel safe with Tigran’s hands in mine.
“Do you, Dasha, take Tigran to be your husband? Do you promise to be true to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health? Will you love and honor him all the days of your life?”
“I do,” I say, even if it’s not true. Love him? Honor him? I don’t even know this man.
The priest repeats the vows for Tigran, and he nods sharply. “I do,” he says, and I want to throw up.
“By the power vested in me by the state of Pennsylvania and by our Lord God, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may, uh, kiss the bride?”
I blink rapidly. Tigran steps forward, wrapping me in his arms. I let out a soft yelp, my hands pressed to his chest. I think I’m going to push him back, but holy shit, he’s got some serious muscles, and his arms are like iron bars. I shiver, remembering another cage, but it’s too late to stop this.
“Just for show,” he says before he presses his lips to mine.
Just for show, I think, as my brain glitches and his taste floods my mouth.
Forget some chaste church kiss—this is pure blistering heat and domination.
His tongue slips against mine as I get hints of coffee and whiskey. I’m pulled closer to him, into his strength and warmth, and I let out an actual freaking whimper, even though my dad’s like two feet away.
Our mouths are intertwined, and I don’t think I could stop this if I wanted to, which I absolutely don’t.
The kiss wrecks me. I feel shaky and trembling all over. His lips linger, nipping at me gently, and then there’s clapping. The men watching finally wake up, and Tigran’s lips are gone, leaving me barren.
Holy mother of god.
That was incredible.
If that was just for show, then what would the real thing be like?
I’m dragged down from the altar. Tigran leads the way along the aisle, pausing to accept congratulations. I nod to some of the men I recognize from the Bratva. Evan’s stony glare lurks off in the pews, but he doesn’t approach. I’m betting he’s as pissed as I should be.
“Now it’s done,” Tigran says once we’re in the front entry hall. Valentin and Arsen come out next, followed by my dad. He’s lingering off to the side like he’s not even a part of this anymore.
I want to go to him. I want him to make me understand. Why me? Why now? What’s going to happen to me? I’ve barely left his house in over a decade, and suddenly I’m being torn out of my life and thrown into something new.
Something worse.
“Congratulations on your new wife,” Valentin says and turns to me. “I trust you’ll make the Bratva proud?”
“I’ll try,” I murmur, even though I’d rather kick and scream and spit. This is how I make it through. Keep quiet. Keep my head down.
“Good. When will you be leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning.” Tigran looks at me. His hand still grips mine. “I’ll let her pack and say her goodbyes first.”
“Goodbye?” I look up, heart racing all over again. “What do you mean, leaving?”
“You’re moving into my house in Baltimore.” Tigran’s jaw works. “You really should have been told.”
With that, my life is truly over.
Tigran drags me from the church, bundles me into a car, and drives me away.
Chapter 3
Tigran
That was poorly done.
The whole wedding was a fiasco. From the moment the girl walked into the church, it was obvious she had no clue what was going on. Bad enough to be shoved into an arranged marriage—but even worse for it to be a surprise.
No wonder she fainted.
God, she was like a little kitten in my arms. So small, blonde, and pretty. Her thick, golden hair was pulled back in a simple braid that made her look so sexy. She was tiny, maybe five-foot-four at most, with a petite frame. The sort of woman I could throw around. Good lips, nice figure. Conservative dress though, like she was on her way to teach kindergarten or something.