and figures. Their hair is swept up like mine, with fresh white and blue flowers pinned in. Despite the wedding being formal and opulent, I talked Diego into keeping the wedding party small—just our sisters, Jovan, and Jaime, who I only met a few days ago.
“Well,” Camila says, giving my hand a squeeze. “This is it. Are you ready?”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, asking myself that same question. The champagne hasn’t made me drunk enough to ignore the churning of my stomach or the dread turning my blood to ice. But I smile at my sister and nod ‘yes’, anyway.
Marcella paces away from us with her cellphone pressed to her ear. “Okay … yes … we’re ready and heading down now.” She turns to us after hanging up. “The car is here.”
The two of them help me down the stairs, holding up my veil and the train of my dress. The wide flare of my skirt—and the petticoats underneath—make it slow going, but we eventually make it to the first floor and out to the waiting car.
Jovan—who drove Diego to the church earlier—has come back to retrieve us. Marcella says it’s because Diego doesn’t trust anyone else to get us there safely and on time.
He’s standing beside the back door of the Rolls, which he swings open as we approach. Lifting his sunglasses, he looks me over with raised eyebrows and lets out a wolf whistle. “Damn, girl! You clean up nice.”
I wave a dismissive hand at him, even though I can’t help a little smile. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
He helps Marcella and Camila tuck my gown into the car, then goes to the other side to let Camila in next to me. Marcella slides in up front.
“What are you talking about?” he jokes while sliding into the driver’s seat. “I woke up like this. Ready to get married, dama?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I murmur as he pulls out of the driveway.
I spend the drive into Miami trying to settle my nerves, and listening to Jovan, Camila, and Marcella talk and joke with each other. Fortunately, no one says anything that will clue my sister in on what Diego does for a living. The rumors of his shady activities are usually overshadowed by his legitimate businesses, including Calentar. If Camila suspects anything, she doesn’t ask, and I’m grateful.
We arrive at the church to find the last few guests walking in, and Jovan pulls around back so I won’t be seen. A cluster of men in suits stand around waiting and watching, and I recognize them as some of Diego’s security team.
Is this what my life will be now—constantly followed by men with guns because of who my husband is? Diego promised to protect me from his world, but I don’t see how that’s possible when it seems to overtake very aspect of his life. Now, it’ll be a part of my life, too.
Jovan opens the door for Marcella first, then Camila. When my door swings open, I hesitate with my foot halfway to the ground. Staring down at me through a pair of sunglasses, is Oleg. He’s dressed in a pinstripe suit with massive emerald cufflinks and an ascot tie.
“Krasivaya, my dear,” he says, taking my hand to help me to my feet. “You look like an angel.”
“Th-thank you,” I stammer, dumbfounded at the sight of him. I expected him at the wedding but didn’t anticipate him greeting me at the car.
He takes my arm to lead me inside. Our pace is slow with Marcella and Camila holding up my veil and train.
“I hope you don’t mind me ambushing you this way, dorogoy,” he says. “But I made a request of Diego, and he has given his permission as long as you also agree.”
“What request?” I ask, furrowing my eyebrows.
We slip into the cool interior of the church, and Oleg leads me into a back room where our fresh bouquets are waiting in vases of water. Marcella and Camila stay a discreet distance away to give us privacy, checking their hair and makeup in a gilt mirror.
“I hope you won’t think me too presumptuous,” he begins with a sheepish smile. “But I have heard your father is not here to give you away. It isn’t right for a bride to walk down the aisle alone. For this, I would like to offer my services.”
I gape at him in silence while wondering if I heard him correctly. “You … want to walk