No way in hell am I making the first move.
Everyone is quiet as his hateful eyes lock on mine.
Then, slowly, he steps closer.
I hold in a breath, close to fainting, when he cups the back of my head. His hand is large, nearly spanning my entire skull. He digs his fingers into my hair to yank me closer and then settles his hand along my cheek to hold me in place.
I shut my eyes for a moment but hurriedly open them just as his lips brush against mine.
My body relaxes as he kisses me.
That warmth I felt when he touched me turns into burning flames.
I moan into his mouth when he slips the tip of his tongue into mine. For a moment, I think there’s romance. But that doesn’t last long when he pulls away.
My eyes flash open, and I raise my head.
That wicked smirk from the engagement party is back on his face.
It’s a smirk that confirms I’ll face the consequences for this betrayal.
I am so fucked.
3
“What the fuck?”I roar to Aleksy when we’re in a private room inside the cathedral. “You can’t just throw a random woman in front of me at the altar.”
My pulse hasn’t slowed since the moment I lifted the veil and sawher.
Not Dasha.
Liliya.
The wrong fucking bride.
The wrong fucking sister.
I played along with their game long enough to recite our vows, to tie her to me for the rest of her life. All of it was a part of my strategy to completely fuck Aleksy and the Russian Bratva.
I did what I had to do and then sealed my scheme with a kiss.
Then, I pushed Liliya away as if her kiss had poisoned me, turned to our guests, and told all of them but Aleksy to get the hell out.
Liliya stared at me, speechless, her green eyes wide in shock.
I’m not a man who plays games.
I’m the one who cheats in them.
Luckily, our guests, along with the priest and my bride, did as I’d demanded.
Antonio, the boss of the family I work for, also stayed. So did his underboss, Damien, and a capo, Julian. As did the mother of the dishonest bride.
Aleksy, along with his underboss, Lev, and Antonio, Damien, and Julian, followed me into this office that I’m positive belongs to the priest.
Aleksy stands in front of the door and leans back on his heels. “Technically, she’s still a Morozova.”
I smirk at his lack of concern, pull my fist back, and punch him square in the jaw.
