Til Death Do Us Part (Kornilov Bratva Duet #2) - Nicole Fox Page 0,16
like she is going to say something, before she sinks back down and shakes her head again. “It’s nothing.”
“Yeah, it seems like nothing,” I say, voice thick with sarcasm. I move to sit on the bed next to her and lay my hand on her knee. “What is it?”
All of a sudden, Molly stands up, slipping out from under my touch, and begins to pace across the room. I can clearly see she is upset, but I also can’t take my eyes off the figure she cuts in her dress.
She is in a black dress that I hand-selected for her. The wedding was about love, but the ceremony tonight is about loyalty. It is about the men seeing Molly as their leader, not as an innocent, pure bride. They need to respect her authority.
The top is rigid and structured in a bustier style with a tight skirt that hugs her body close through mid-thigh. Then, over top, is a layer of lace that drapes to her knees. It is sexy and powerful—a dress befitting a Bratva queen. A dress befitting my wife.
“I can’t do this,” she says, waving her arms over the dress and her hair. “This. All of it. I just … this isn’t who I am. I don’t wear fancy things or have my hair done like this. I feel—”
“Different?” I ask, standing up and walking over to her.
Molly pulls her hands away when I reach for them, but I grab them anyway and lay them against my chest, pinning them there with my own hands. “You are different now. You should feel different.”
“Not really,” she whispers, glancing nervously towards where the hairdresser is pretending not to listen to us.
I know what she means. She isn’t really different. We aren’t really married.
I shake my head. “No, really. You are.”
“But I’m not.” Molly raises her voice and pulls away from me, tucking her hands behind her back. “I’ve been dirt poor my entire life, and now, overnight, I’m some rich Bratva wife who has a hair stylist. This. Isn’t. Me. I feel ridiculous.”
I don’t know how to fix this right now. Not when we need to be at the ceremony in twenty minutes.
“If it is about your hair, I’m paying this woman twice her normal fee. She can change it.”
The hairdresser turns around, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and nods. “I can. I’ll do whatever you like.”
“It isn’t the hair,” Molly says more gently, addressing the stylist. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. Let’s just finish up and get this over with.”
Molly turns away from me and goes to sit at the chair in front of the vanity again. I can see tension in the hunch of her shoulders, but I can’t do anything about it now. Based on what I overheard before walking in, my presence is only making things worse.
So, I turn and leave, pulling the door shut firmly behind me.
I’m not sure what happened between last night and now. I’m not sure how Molly went from clutching me and surrendering to me to this, and even worse, I can’t fix it.
As her husband, I should know how to calm her. I should know what to say. Yet, I don’t.
I run a frustrated hand through my hair before I remember it has been gelled into a respectable style. I try to flatten it back down as best I can and then go back downstairs to sit with Theo until Molly is ready. Once we get through the ceremony, we can talk about everything. I can comfort her.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Molly claims she isn’t ready to be a Bratva wife, to be the queen, but she could have fooled me.
The ceremony is a success.
She smiles and looks at ease, even as her finger is pricked and her blood is spilled over the Bratva symbol. When she is asked to repeat her oath of loyalty, she stumbles over a few of the words, but she remains confident and strong. I can tell my men respect her when they make their own oaths. I can feel it in the tone of their collective voice. They will protect her.
When we walk back to the car afterwards, I open Molly’s door for her and then walk around the front, hoping the strangeness from before has passed. Hoping I can chalk it up to pre-ceremony nerves.
Those hopes are dashed the second I close the car door.
“How much did I fuck up?” Molly asks, dropping her head in her hands.