He laughs and the loud, boisterous sound draws stares from Camila and Marcella. Oleg lowers his voice so they can’t overhear. “I am not a man to hold a grudge, dorogoy. Diego was presented with a choice, and you were what he wanted. Who am I to stand in the way of that? He is like a son to me, you know. His father … well, Diego has been without him since he was a boy. I have been there to watch him grow into a strong man. I am proud to see him taking the first step toward starting a family of his own.”
I get a weird feeling in my stomach at Oleg’s mention of family and the reminder that Diego doesn’t want children. My new birth control is an implant, so I won’t have to worry about pills. Diego seemed relieved to know that.
“While I wish he had done it with my Nataly, I can’t begrudge his happiness,” Oleg continues. “You love each other, da?”
“Yes,” I say, the lie slipping easier off my tongue than usual. I’m getting better at this. “Very much.”
“Then I am happy for you. Now … will you allow me to give you away? It would be my honor.”
I don’t even have to think about my answer. Being a part of this world—even as a prisoner—has taught me that mafia men are a lot like politicians. There’s a lot of ass-kissing and palm-greasing that goes on, and staying in another boss’s good graces can mean the difference between harmony and bloodshed. I don’t need to be told that being Diego’s wife means I have a role in keeping these men happy.
“I’m the one who would be honored,” I tell him with a forced smile. “Thank you for offering.”
Oleg grins, and looks genuinely happy that I accepted his offer. It makes me think that his affection for Diego is deeper than I thought. Maybe he really is happy, thinking that Diego is marrying for love. How long before that illusion crumbles and he is disappointed?
I can’t think of that now, because Camila hands me my bouquet of white and baby blue roses and smooths a non-existent wrinkle in my dress.
It’s time.
23
Diego
Considering I never wanted to get married, my wedding day turns out to be more enjoyable than I expected. While standing at the altar next to Jovan, waiting for Elena to appear, I feel like I’m on display. The church is filled from wall to wall with members of both the Pérez and the Yezhov cartels, along with old friends of my parents, various business contacts, and a handful of Elena’s family and friends. It’s hard to stand still, even though I’m used to being gawked at. Something is different about this. Everything is different. Everything is about to change.
Jovan leans close just as the wedding processional starts to play and the double doors swing open to reveal Marcella walking in on Jaime’s arm. “Nervous, jefe?”
I clench my teeth and keep my eyes on that door, waiting for my bride to appear. “No.”
Nothing could be farther from the truth, but it’s not marriage that scares me. It’s the idea of perpetuating the sins of my parents. It’s Elena being in danger. It’s the realization that I’m starting to care about her, and anything I care about can be used to destroy me. Anything I love can be ripped away.
I push the fear aside and stand tall while Camila walks down the aisle alone, beaming proudly to lead the way for her sister. Fear isn’t new to me. I was forged in it; I learned to adapt and conquer it. I won’t let it take Elena away from me. I can have her and keep my empire, and nothing has to change. Elena will have more freedom, and maybe we can learn to get along. Everything else will go on as before.
The moment Elena appears in the frame of the double doors, my mind goes silent. All my worries, all the things I haven’t figured out yet … it all fades. She’s a fucking goddess, floating toward me all wrapped in lace and silk with flowers in her hands. Her face is serene and naturally made up, and my grandmother’s pearls seem to take their glow from her skin. She reminds me of a bride at a royal wedding, her head held high, her tiara sparkling in the lights, her dignity on full display.