The Don and His Russian Bride

Chapter 3

The closing of the car door made me flinch. My proximity to Luciano was about the same as it had been at the altar, but this time, we were enclosed in a tight space. There would be nowhere for me to escape to when the vehicle was traveling at one hundred kilometers per hour.

Luciano adjusted his seating position as the car began to move. His posture was strictly erect, a habit from being a businessman first and foremost, and his body turned towards me. “Now must be a time as good as any for formal introductions. I’m Don Luciano Martelli.”

“A better time would’ve been before the wedding.” My mind kept telling me there could be major repercussions for the way I responded, but my tongue refused to hold back. “I know who you are. Just as you know who I am.”

"I do know who you are– Katerina Ivanov, the only daughter of Leonid Ivanov." Hearing my father’s name was another punch to the gut. I no longer wished to be connected to the callous man who gave me away. "I've heard stories about how beautiful you are. I didn't know how true they were until I lifted your veil."

"Is that why you chose me to be your bride? You heard that I was beautiful?" My mouth turned sour at this information. It was no surprise that my husband was like the typical man belonging to the mafia, who couldn’t care less if his wife had brains or a sense of humor. As long as she was pretty, she could meet his requirements.

"It's much more than that, bellezza.” His eyes seared into mine. He was begging me to understand, but didn’t care to elaborate further. “Is there anything else I can answer for you?”

"Who knows this is an arranged marriage?"

"My consigliere, Armando, is the only one. Of course, the men who work close to me suspect it, but it’s not their place to question me. My mother and my sisters, however, are completely unaware. If you choose to say anything to them about our falsified romance, you will not be speaking to anyone for days. I can promise that, and I always keep my promises."

"I understand. But how can they not know that we weren't even in a relationship before today? Wouldn't they have seen us together before?" I asked. Nothing went on in my life without my father knowing about it. If I tried to fake a relationship in front of him, he would know the lie before I spoke it.

"I keep my family at a distance for their safety. They haven't seen me since I visited them in Genoa several months ago. I told them that we met two months ago in a coffee shop. They believe I've been keeping you to myself all this time."

"A marriage after only two months?"

"At least it’s more than two minutes." He raised his eyebrows at me in a pointed look. Any lie he told them would be better than the truth. "Besides, they understand that when I want something, I get it."

As his hazel eyes dared me to test his ambition, my fears from earlier came racing back to my mind. Would we consummate the marriage tonight simply because he demanded it?

"Do they know what you do for a living?"

“My mother has an idea, but she doesn’t know all the details. My sisters believe that I am only a very successful businessman. My identity needs to be kept a secret from everyone outside of the business.”

I brushed my thumb over the gel polish on my nails. I had a dozen more questions for him. There was no way we could get through all of them in one car ride. “Where are we going now?”

“Somewhere that we can take our wedding photos.” He turned his attention to his phone, promptly ending our conversation. I didn’t mind if my questions remained unanswered for a while longer. I would still be processing the information from today for weeks.

The car pulled through an entrance shrouded by pansies. It didn’t take long for me to guess that we would be taking our wedding photos in a garden. We stepped out to meet the young photographer, who led us past trimmed rows of hydrangeas to the fountain at the heart of the garden.

First, my photo was taken alone in front of the pink peonies. With every flash of the camera, my resolve to look like a happy bride was crumbling. Would the photos capture how forced my smile was? Would the tight grip on my bouquet be noticeable? These notions worsened when I had to stand with Luciano. Each time he pulled me closer, my smile faltered.

“At least try to look happy. These are going on our wall,” Luciano said. My eyes widened as I looked up at him. How could he refer to something as 'ours' so easily? I had never even seen the walls he was mentioning. The flash of the camera reminded me where we were.

“Dip her back and kiss her.”

“No-” I tried to object to the photographer but Luciano wouldn’t have it. He took hold of me and pressed his lips to mine. As he leaned over me, my back arched out of instinct to keep from falling. I could feel every hard ridge of muscle of his body on mine.

Luciano's hands kept a firm grip on my hips to hold me in place while he whispered in my ear, "It’s not up to you. I’m paying this man. And you will listen to him."

Beneath his order was an unspoken threat. I was learning that there often was. It wasn’t surprising given the fact that he was used to bossing others around. Soon he would find out that he couldn’t do the same to me.

~~~~~~~~~~

My stomach grumbled as it had been for the past twenty minutes. It started when our pictures were being taken with the wedding party and continued throughout the car ride to the reception. Once or twice Luciano told me to keep it down, as if I could turn off my stomach.

During pictures, I learned that the four bridesmaids from the ceremony were actually Luciano's sisters. Sienna was the oldest and followed by Marta, who was only a couple years older than me. Gabriella was the most reserved and Elena was the youngest at nineteen. True to their Italian roots, most of them were outspoken. They shouted playful insults to their brother all throughout the shoot. Despite their attempts to get a rise out of him, he remained stoic. It baffled me how he could be such a polar opposite from his sisters.

As we arrived at the building for the reception, we were greeted by the same man who led me to the ceremony. He was more relaxed now that we had gotten through the ceremony. Luciano introduced him as Armando.

“Pleased to meet you officially, Katerina.” Armando took hold of my hand and placed a gentle kiss on top of it. “Congratulations on beating Luciano out of his title of most beautiful member of the family.”

Luciano glared at his cousin but didn’t say anything. He soon pulled me away so that I could meet his mother, Gianna. I was embraced by her within seconds. It was her way of welcoming me into the family. Turns out, Luciano didn't have to threaten me to keep his secret. Gianna was so glad her son found someone to spend his life with, I could never ruin that for her.

Luciano led me over to the main table and pulled out a chair for me. “Sit. We will start dinner in a few minutes. Then your stomach can stop its incessant rumbling.”

True to his word, I didn’t have to wait much longer for servants to come out of the kitchen with exquisite dinner platters. Placed in front of me was a main dish of spaghetti made with roasted peppers and chicken. Off to the side of the plate were two slices of bruschetta. Nearly the second it was on the table, I was already grabbing my fork and digging in.

It wasn’t until my first dance with Luciano that I regretted eating so fast. As he led me around the dancefloor, I turned my focus to the crowd watching us. The same men from the ceremony watched us. This time, however, they weren’t with their wives but rather with more voluptuous, young women. Is that what I would be subject to one day? Making public appearances next to my husband during the day, only for him to party at night with another younger, more attractive woman?

"Could you at least pretend to be enjoying yourself? It looks like I'm dancing with the unhappiest bride of the century." Luciano whispered in my ear.

"That’s because I am the unluckiest bride of the century. You can't possibly expect me to be happy."

"I don't. What I do expect is that you’ll look the part. To my family, this is real. Now smile. I don’t want to have to remind you again."

A quick look at Gianna’s face had me biting back my tongue. Her brows furrowed in concern as she watched us. A reassuring smile from me was all it took for her to return to beaming with joy. I could fake being in love if it were for her sake.

As a new song started for the mother son dance, I excused myself to the restroom. It was there that I ran into Sienna and Marta.

"Would you like us to hold your dress up for you, Katerina?" Sienna asked me.

"Sure. I could use the help." I made my way into the bathroom with them following closely behind. "Call me Rina, please. It's what everyone calls me back home."

"Where is your family?" Marta asked. It was meant to be an innocuous question. Of course people would wonder why I was here alone. It didn’t make it easier to answer.

"They're back in Russia." The lie fell smoothly from my lips. It was something I wanted to believe more than the truth at the moment. "They didn't exactly approve of my decision to marry Luciano after such a short time. I was only supposed to be visiting Italy, not staying with a man I barely knew.”

"I'm sorry. I wish they could be here for you."

"It's alright." As I finished my business, the girls helped me fix up my dress and moved to a lighter topic.

"So was it love at first sight when you ran into him at the coffee shop?"

I raised my eyebrows at Sienna before offering her a playful roll of my eyes. “As if. I literally ran into him and spilled coffee on one of his favorite suits. Your brother cussed me out in Italian for at least an entire minute."

Both of his sisters nodded, familiar with their brother’s hot temper. I had hit the nail on the head. Sienna opened the stall for me. "Then what happened?"

"I apologized for my clumsiness. Then he really looked at me for the first time. He tells me now that he was taken back by my beauty. He offered to buy me another cup and we ended up staying in the cafe together for hours.”

"Che dolce! That's the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” Marta gushed. "I didn't think he had a gentlemanly bone in his body."

"You'd be surprised.” I grabbed the towel to dry my hands. “Anyways, I really should get back to him. He's probably worried about me."

I left the bathroom with a small wave to them. Looking down at my feet, I smiled to myself. If nothing else good came from this marriage, at least I was now family to amazing sisters. I had always wanted siblings or cousins. My father is the only family I have ever known.

When I stepped into the hallway, a large man walking by shouldered into me.

"Ow! Excuse you."

The man paused to look back at me. "Watch yourself."

Chills ran down my spine at hearing his deep voice coated with a rich Italian accent. His dark eyes bored through me in an effort to make me shrink, which was hardly necessary. The man had a neck so thick I wouldn’t be able to wrap both hands around it and stood several centimeters taller than me. He could eat me for dinner and save pieces of me in his dark beard for later.

I spun on my heel so I could return to the ballroom, where there were people. His warning was about more than being cautious of where I walked. Now that I was a don’s wife, I was a target for many.

"Where have you been?" Luciano growled into my ear. He grabbed my arm and pulled me close when I came back to our table.

"Relax," I told him. "I was talking to your sisters in the bathroom."

"What did you say to them?"

"Don’t worry. I stuck to your script. We met in a coffee shop, fell madly in love, and now my family is cursing your name back in Russia.”

“Good girl. Now go dance."

Would he ever stop ordering me around? "No. I don’t want to.”

"A bride must dance at her wedding. After you’ve done that, we can leave.”

If dancing was my only way out of there, then so be it. I would dance.

The Italians welcomed me to the dancefloor as I had become one of their own. Luciano’s sisters were the life of the party. My worries and fears drifted away once I was able to focus on moving my body to the rhythm of the music.

It became much easier to enjoy being a bride throughout the night. The guests caused me to laugh several times and I couldn’t hold back a smile every time someone complimented my dress. I even got lost in the excitement of the bouquet toss. Luciano’s second cousin, Sofia, caught the flowers. Except for raising goosebumps on my legs for the garter toss, Luciano kept his distance to my relief.

I was reaching for my third cupcake of the night when Luciano touched my arm and whispered from behind me, "It's time to go."

I pulled my hand away from the cupcake. The knots in my stomach would make it impossible to finish it all. Luciano led me away from the safety of the reception, where we stepped into the black limo from earlier.

Once we arrived at his house, or mansion rather, Luciano took my hand and led me inside. There would be no carrying me across the threshold. It was a dumb tradition anyway.

"This is our room."

"Our room" was about five times the size of my dorm room at boarding school. That wasn’t even counting the doors that most likely opened to a walk in closet and an en suite. The walls were painted charcoal to match the dark furniture and hardwood flooring. The only ounce of color could be found in the bright green plants on the nightstand and side tables. If it were daytime, light through the large windows could offer a contrast to the darkness of the room.

“I can’t stay in here with you,” I said.

"I expect my wife to sleep in the same bed with me." Luciano’s expression was impenetrable.

I took a deep breath before speaking again. "You can't expect me to sleep with you tonight. I met you less than twenty-four hours ago."

His head tilted to the ceiling as he contemplated how to deal with me. If there was any goodness in him, he would not force me to do this. He walked closer until he was looking down at me. I met his stare straight on, not willing to be intimidated. I could not let him win this fight.

"Fine. You can sleep in the room across the hall. But if anyone asks me how my wedding night went, I will tell them that I f****d you so hard you couldn't walk the next day."

"And if I tell people the truth?" I dared to ask.

"Trust me, it would be in your best interest to go along with what I say."

"Alright." I would have agreed to almost anything at that point in order to stop while I was ahead. I had just gotten myself my own bedroom.