Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet #2) - Nicole Fox Page 0,11

wanted to marry. A dress never factored into it. I’d get married in jeans and a T-shirt if it was for love.

Viktor’s eyes are piercing as he studies my face and recites his vows. It’s the second time he has spoken these words to me, vowing his protection and love and generosity. I smile, selling my role as the blushing bride, but inside, I try to bat his pledges away. I try to keep them from sailing into my mind and heart and taking root there.

This marriage is fake. He doesn’t mean it.

The ceremony is over almost before I can grasp that it has started, and Viktor grabs my hand and pulls me through the temporary office space and into a large room in the back. Long white fabric panels hang from the walls and the ceiling has been decorated with a tangle of fairy lights and tulle. Soft music is playing through a set of speakers and there is cake and punch.

I open my mouth to try and give voice to my surprise, but none come. Viktor squeezes my hand and presses his warm palm to my lower back. “I didn’t ask them to do this. They did it for you.”

For the first time, I let myself look at the faces of the men standing around the room. Many of them have women tangled in their arms. They are all smiling and at ease, but more pressingly, they are looking at me. At us.

“They wanted to please their queen,” he says, lifting my arm over my head and spinning me gracefully away and then back into his body.

I press my hand to his chest to stabilize myself and marvel at the solidness of Viktor’s body. It has only been a few weeks since we’ve been together, since I’ve seen all of him bare and exposed, and I’m still consistently surprised by the strength of his body and the feel of it under my fingers.

Viktor cradles my body to his gently, swaying us around the dance floor as music plays. When the song is done, he keeps hold of my hand and leads me around the room, talking to each guest. Almost all of them congratulate us and then take my hand and press it to their foreheads.

“Their loyalty,” Viktor whispers in my ear. His breath is warm on my neck, and I shiver, wishing he would never stop whispering to me.

The night is a whirlwind, and we leave to cheers and whistles and excited applause. Viktor helps me into the passenger seat of his black car, ensuring my dress doesn’t get stuck in the door, and then drives us quietly and expertly through the city, navigating traffic fearlessly.

I’m surprised when he pulls up in front of my apartment rather than his own. We haven’t discussed it, but I assumed we would be consolidating our living arrangements post-marriage. Yet, Viktor helps me out of the car and allows me to unlock my own front door and step inside.

Theo is with a new nanny and several guards who have proven themselves incredibly loyal, so the apartment is quiet. I feel Viktor behind me as I walk into the kitchen, but when I turn around, his hands are in his pockets. Almost like he is trying to restrain himself.

“Should we have a drink?” I offer, unsure how else to end this night. Then I remember the baby and laugh, breaking the tension. “Not for me, though.”

Viktor smiles and moves to get glasses from the cabinet. “Virgin?”

“Considering our last fake wedding night, you know the answer to that,” I joke.

Viktor smiles, but I notice a tension in his jaw.

I defer the drink mixing to him. Viktor made sure the liquor cabinet was well stocked before we moved in, so I assume he will make a better drink than I ever would. I watch as he slips out of his suit jacket and begins measuring and shaking and pouring. His button-down shirt is pulled tight across his muscled back and his biceps. I like watching Viktor move. He has an inborn grace, a rhythm entirely his own that lures me in like a siren’s call. No matter how complicated being with him is, I can’t seem to pull away. I can’t seem to want to distance myself from him the way I know I should.

When he hands me a deep red drink, I take a long swallow without asking what it is.

“Juice, sparkling water, and a lime,” he says with a shrug. “Virgins aren’t