Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83221 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
"We're heading out for the reception. I do not want Volkov to think I’m bowing to him or hiding. It's just my family, nothing big. The most important part is behind us.”
I barely know where I am, or who he is, so I'm totally fine not traveling to some exotic location with this man that I hardly know.
"Why were there people who tried to attack us? I don't understand.”
"I'll explain everything later. For now, we're eating dinner with my family. I know you may not have an appetite right now, but it's considered rude for the bride not to eat on her wedding day, so do the best you can.”
Who is this man and what has he done with the grumpy caricature? Is it just the relief he feels having defeated Volkov? Or is it something more?
After a short drive, we arrive at the restaurant. He pulls a chair out for me at a table, and I sit down. "I feel like I need a bib or something,” I mutter to myself, looking down at my pristine white wedding gown. I don't want to splatter food on it.
"You're fine. I'll send it to the cleaners. Eat if you're hungry."
I look to see armed men, not even bothering to hide their weapons, standing at each entrance to the restaurant.
“Welcome, Aria.”
Beside me sits a man a bit older than Mikhail, well-groomed and intelligent looking with graying hair and glasses. He has gray in his beard and keen blue eyes. Like the others, he’s fit and healthy.
“Aria, meet Kolya, an old family friend.”
“Old? Touché, Mikhail.” He shakes his head and lifts a glass. “To the new couple! To the new era of the Romanov family.” There's a solemn feel at the table, in the room, like we've just come to the end of a battle.
This is my exchange for protection and safety?
How naïve and foolish I've been, thinking that they only wanted my skills. They wanted much, much more than that.
The new era for the Romanov family.
That will involve…babies.
Of course. I mean, did I really expect I’d be married to him and not have his babies?
Everybody clinks their glasses solemnly.
“My mother, Ekaterina, and of course you already know Polina.” Ekaterina’s a timeless beauty with silver hair gracefully swept into an elegant up-do. Even her eyes are a steely shade of gray, reflecting strong, yet graceful features. She sits ramrod straight but gives me a warm smile.
"Welcome to the family."
There's something about her that tells me this woman has experienced deep, abiding pain. How could she not have? Was she married like me, against her will? How did her husband treat her?
“These are my brothers.” Mikhail continues the introductions. “Lev, the youngest.” A quiet, unassuming, very attractive guy some years younger than Mikhail nods his head and raises a glass. His eyes are sharp and though he’s seated, I can tell he’s got an athletic build. Short, dark hair like Mikhail’s and deep blue eyes.
“Nikko.” An enormous man, heavily tattooed with a rugged, primal appeal to him, who appears to carry weapons. His large frame and menacing scowl make me want to hide.
“Ollie.” Ollie sits tall. Startlingly handsome with a beard and piercing green eyes, he exudes a rugged disinterest. His leather-clad appearance makes him look fully the part of the bad boy.
“Viktor.”
A hulking, muscular man with a shaved head and a scar running down one cheek who appears to favor black leather jackets. A hulking, heavily tattooed man, also with a rugged charm. His strong, scarred features and imposing physique exude a magnetic appeal.
“And you’ve met Aleks.”
Aleks glares at me but looks away when Mikhail gives him a look.
Oh, right. I circumvented his shitty cybersecurity. Aleks maybe doesn’t like me.
“Now that introductions are over, let’s eat, Mikhail,” Ekaterina says. She gives me a smile. “My first son to get married won’t rob me of our family traditions. We’ll eat our traditional foods, son.”
It’s a midday meal, but still, waitstaff enter with a variety of finger foods and appetizers, pickled vegetables and dumplings. There’s caviar and salad, stuffed savory patties they call “shashlik,” and a creamy stroganoff served over thick noodles and roasted greens. I eat, but my appetite’s waning after all the festivities. My head is pounding and I want a nap.
“Are you alright?” Mikhail asks, concern etched in his brow. I’m almost touched he actually cares.
“Just a headache,” I whisper back. How much longer do I have to perform? Even though there’s only a small crowd here, I’m putting on a show and socialization is so not my thing.
“We’ll leave after dessert.”
It’s honestly refreshing that he doesn’t care about being polite. I never did like having to follow social conventions. It’s so fake.
Like this marriage?
And yet…what will happen when I’m back home with him? What’s next? How exactly will we…begin the next era for the Romanovs?