Twisted Vows

#2

Elena.

I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bridal suite while two of my father’s women fixed the last pins in my hair.

The dress was white, heavy, and expensive. It felt like a costume. I didn’t smile at my reflection.

I didn’t cry either.

There was nothing left to cry about. The decision had been made days ago in my father’s office, and tears had never changed a single order in this family.

Mama sat on the edge of the couch behind me, watching. She wore a dark blue dress and the same calm face she always wore when something ugly had to be done.

“You look like me on my wedding day,” she said.

I met her eyes in the mirror. “Did you cry?”

“No. Your father and I were strangers. We did what was required. Love was never part of the conversation.”

I turned around so the women could step back. “And now you’re telling me the same thing.”

“I’m telling you the truth,” she said. “Most of us don’t get to choose. You already knew that.”

Nikolai leaned against the wall near the door, arms folded, jaw tight. He had a gun under his jacket even though the church was supposed to be neutral ground. “You don’t have to pretend to like it.”

“I’m not pretending anything,” I said. “I’m walking in there, saying the words, and then I’m going to survive him. That’s all.”

Father walked in without knocking. He looked at me once, nodded once, and spoke to the room. “Cars are ready. Council representatives are already seated. No one makes a scene. Elena, you walk in with me. You stand next to Lorenzo and you do not look for anyone else.”

I knew who he meant.

Cole was outside somewhere in the security detail. He had been given orders to stay visible but silent. I had seen him for that morning in the hallway of the compound. He had looked at me like the ground had opened under him.

I had told him to keep his face blank and his hands away from his weapon. Then I had walked away before either of us said something that could get him killed.

I picked up the small bouquet they had given me. White roses with no meaning. Just something to hold so my hands wouldn’t look empty.

“Let’s go,” I said.

The church was full of men who had tried to kill each other for the last two years. Italians on one side, Russians on the other, Council observers in the middle rows. Every single person in the building was armed. The air felt thick with it.

Damien Lorenzo stood at the front in a black suit. Tall, dark hair cut short, face like it had been carved out of something that didn’t feel pain.

He didn’t smile when he saw me. He didn’t offer his hand. He just watched me walk toward him like he was already calculating how much trouble I was going to be.

I stopped beside him. My father placed my hand on Damien’s arm. Damien’s muscle tensed under the fabric, then went still. He didn’t look at me. He looked straight ahead at the priest.

The ceremony was short. The priest spoke the words in English so both sides could understand. When it was time for the vows, Damien’s voice was flat.

“I do.”

My turn came. I kept my eyes on the priest.

“I do.”

He slid a heavy gold band onto my finger. I put the matching one on his. His hand was warm and rough. I pulled mine back the second the metal settled.

We turned to face the room. People clapped because it was expected. No one looked happy. I scanned the edges of the crowd once and found Cole standing near the side door with two other men from our side. His face was carefully blank, but his eyes were on me.

I held his gaze for half a second longer than I should have.

Damien’s fingers closed around my wrist as he leaned in so only I could hear him. His voice was low and rough, no softness in it at all.

“Your private life is none of my business. But if you keep giving him those eyes in public, I will put a bullet between his. Do you understand me?”

I turned my head just enough to meet his stare. Up close his eyes were dark and completely cold.

“I understand you’re threatening a man who has nothing to do with this treaty,” I said, just as quiet. “Touch him and the only thing left of this alliance will be the blood on the floor.”

His mouth twitched, not into a smile. “Try me, Petrov. I’ve been waiting years for a reason.”

The priest cleared his throat. We were supposed to walk back down the aisle together. Damien kept his grip on my wrist and started moving.

I matched his pace because the alternative was making a scene in front of both families and the Council. I wasn’t stupid.

Outside, the cars were waiting. Black SUVs, tinted windows, men with earpieces everywhere. Damien opened the back door of the middle vehicle and waited.

I climbed in without looking at him. He followed and shut the door. The partition was already up. The driver pulled away from the curb.

For a full minute neither of us spoke. The city moved past the windows in gray streaks.

“You’re going to live in my house,” he said eventually. “Separate room if that’s what you need to keep from putting a knife in me while I sleep. But in public you will act like my wife. No long looks at your little capo. No private conversations that make people wonder where your loyalty sits. The second this treaty looks weak, both our families start dying again. I won’t let that happen because you can’t control your face.”

I kept my eyes on the window. “I don’t need lessons from you on loyalty. I’ve been bleeding for my family longer than you’ve been sitting in that chair.”

“And now you’ll bleed for both,” he said. “Or I’ll make sure the only blood that matters is his.”

I turned my head and looked at him fully for the first time since the church. “You don’t scare me, Lorenzo. You never did. You can threaten Cole all you want. The second you move on him, I stop being the quiet wife who smiles for the cameras. I become the problem you should have killed when you had the chance years ago.”

He studied me for a long second. Something dark moved behind his eyes, but it wasn’t surprise. He already knew what I was.

“Good,” he said. “I prefer you honest.”

The rest of the drive stayed silent. When the car stopped at the gates of his compound, I saw the high walls, the armed men, the cameras. This was my new cage.

Damien got out first. He didn’t offer his hand. I stepped out on my own and straightened the dress that still felt like it belonged to someone else.

He spoke without looking at me. “Dinner is at eight. Be there. We have guests from both sides who need to see the new couple sitting at the same table without trying to kill each other.”

I walked past him toward the front doors. “I’ll be there. Don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

Behind me I heard him tell one of his men, “Show my wife to her room. And double the guards on the east wing. I don’t want any of her people wandering.”

I didn’t look back.

I climbed the stairs they pointed me toward and didn’t let my face change once.

I was Elena Petrov. Daughter of a Pakhan. Wife of a Don by force. And I was not going to break for either of them.