Forced Marriage Vows

1. Anastasia

CHAPTER 1

Anastasia

T hey say the sun can blind you, but I’ve learned that even the moon has its share of secrets.

The sun blinds with its brightness, scorching any who dare look too close, while the moon softens the night with its calm glow, offering light without pain. But that light… it’s only a reflection borrowed from something more relentless.

Pain shouldn’t be inevitable, yet there are always those who wield it by choice. Growing up in my family, I learned that some people make it their calling.

Born as I was into my family, making that choice has been a part of my life for a long time. It should be easy to choose to be good. Yet being good never seems to be ingrained in a person. But evil, well, that’s a slippery slope. And unfortunately, I’ve had to view the men in my life fall down that slope countless times.

When I was thirteen, my father put a gun in my sixteen-year-old brother’s hand and he immediately returned it. Anthony chose a life outside of ours. My brother has and will always be my idol. I don’t think I’ll ever be strong enough to make the choice he did. I’m glad I’ve never had to.

That being said, he’s also a fucking idiot and I really hate him sometimes.

Hunger Games is one of the biggest nightclubs in Los Angeles. The owner is an enigmatic man who’s seemingly obsessed with the Hunger Games franchise. As soon as we walk into the club, I instantly feel the thud of bass in my chest. This is not at all what I expected when my brother said, “Come to L.A. for my birthday. It’ll be fun!”

I pictured a nice dinner, maybe a rooftop bar, somewhere calm where we could actually talk. Not this. A nightclub. Really? At least he told me ahead of time so we could dress for the occasion.

I’m wearing a purple figure-hugging dress with spaghetti straps. It’s short, barely reaching my mid-thigh. And then there are the white heels with long spiral straps I have on which are already killing me. They’re Leah’s heels, which I had to borrow because I didn’t bring any from Chicago. They’re about two sizes too small, so it really hurts to wear them. But I know I look sexy as hell, so they’re worth it.

My best friend stands beside me. She’s in a metallic silver mini dress that catches the light every time she moves. Her brown hair is pulled back into a long French braid and her brown eyes gleam in them as she takes in the atmosphere of the club, clearly loving it.

“This place is amazing!” Leah says, leaning closer so I can hear her over the loud music.

I can’t deny that it’s pretty great. The walls are dark, almost forest-like, with a fog machine that fills the air with a haze, giving the illusion that you’re walking through some dystopian arena. Neon arrows flash in patterns along the walls, and every now and then, a cannon blast goes off somewhere overhead, followed by more flashing lights.

People are dancing like their lives depend on it—ironically fitting, I suppose. The ceiling above us has what looks like a giant clock ticking down, probably the countdown to midnight or maybe just some twisted take on survival.

My eyes connect with my brother’s brown ones. He’s grinning from ear to ear as he approaches, pushing past the people on the dance floor. He walks with confidence, waving across the room. Anthony’s always had a flair for the dramatic. I roll my eyes at his excitement. He’s wearing a leather jacket and black jeans, holding a glass in his hand.

He hugs me before I can brace myself, hard enough to lift me off my feet.

“There’s my favorite girls,” he shouts. His breath smells faintly of whiskey and I can tell by his glassy eyes that he’s already halfway drunk. “You made it!”

He releases me and Leah gets the same enthusiastic greeting. She giggles when he lifts her off her feet, as well.

“Barely,” I mutter, but the smile on my face betrays the grumpiness I’m trying to hold on to.

It’s been three months since I last saw him and despite the setting of our reunion, I’m really happy to see him. Anthony has this infectious energy that pulls everyone in. You can’t be pissed with him for long.

“Come on,” he says, grabbing my hand without waiting for a response. I manage to hold on to Leah’s hand as he drags us through the crowd. The VIP section is roped off on an elevated platform overlooking the dance floor, and of course, Anthony leads us straight there.

It’s a pretty large area and there are about two dozen people standing in different parts of it. Anthony’s guests, I’m assuming. Some of them are seated on the couches with wild-looking cocktails. My eyebrow rises when I spot a flaming one. Anthony’s guests cheer as soon as he appears, like he’s some sort of hero, and he basks in the attention, like he tends to do. I recognize some of his friends but I’m not familiar with majority of them.

My eyes are drawn toward the back of the VIP section. I take a breath, adjusting to the shift in energy as my eyes connect with icy blue ones. Him, I’m familiar with, although I don’t think I’ve ever said more than five sentences to him in my life. Anthony’s best friend, Mikhail Morozova, stands apart from the others, like a dark, looming shadow. Which is how he’s been for the past decade, always Anthony’s shadow in a way. The both of them are never far from each other. But they’re so dissimilar that sometimes I can’t help but wonder how their relationship works.

He raises his glass to his lips and takes a sip. The eye contact only lasts a couple of seconds, but it feels like forever before I wrench my gaze away. If Anthony’s energy pulls you in, Mikhail’s energy pushes everyone the fuck away.

My brother throws an arm around me as he addresses the people on the couch.

“Everyone, this is my little sister, Anastasia. And my other adopted little sister, Leah. Make them feel welcome,” he tells them, which was totally unnecessary.

Some of them whoop and cheer, their excitement making it clear just how far gone they are. A few people clear up some space for us on the couch and I let out a relieved breath as Leah and I take a seat. My poor feet were just about to give up on me.

Drinks are thrust in our faces, and Leah and I accept two shot glasses of tequila. Anthony’s friends watch us expectantly so we have no choice but to down them. These people really came here to party.

Leah orders a cocktail, but I decline. I’m not the biggest drinker—I can already feel the shot of tequila starting to hit. I settle into the couch, observing the scene. Anthony’s already being pulled away, dancing in the middle of a couple of people. When one girl starts grinding on him, I shake my head and look away.

“This is fun,” Leah says with a grin.

“Sure,” I say dryly, crossing my arms over my chest.

My best friend shakes her head. “Are you going to be this grumpy all night? Cheer up. It’s Anthony’s birthday. We’re in a club and we are going to shake our asses and have fun.”

I make a face. “No. You’re going to have fun. I’m going to sit down, relax, and watch all of you make fools of yourselves. Go on,” I implore. “That guy over there has been checking you out since we arrived.”

I point toward the circle of people surrounding Anthony. Sure enough, there’s a dark-skinned man with dark waves and a sharp jawline looking in our direction. He also has a close-cropped beard. Leah’s a sucker for men with beards. He’s definitely her type.

She takes him in a for a second before looking back at me with a grin. “I’ll be right back.” She winks, grabbing her cocktail.

“Fly away, butterfly.”

Once she’s gone, I take my phone out of my purse to scroll through it. I’m not against clubbing or having fun. I can have fun, but not tonight. Just yesterday, I was in New York meeting with the editor of a magazine I’m hoping to work with. Then I had to fly back home to Chicago before flying here today for Anthony’s birthday. It’s been a lot and I’m exhausted. I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t for my brother.

A couple minutes later, someone sits down beside me. I glance up and it’s one of Anthony’s friends, one I’ve met before. Edward, or as everyone calls him, Eddie. He and Anthony work together. He’s a slimy guy in his mid-thirties who hits on me any chance he gets.

He smiles at me like we’re best friends.

“What’s up, Ana?” he greets. “You look smoking hot.”

His eyes trail over my body as he speaks, resting on my breasts. My mouth tightens.

“Edward,” I say stiffly. “How are you?”

“Good. Better now that you’re here, actually. Ant didn’t tell me you were coming. I almost didn’t make it tonight,” he drawls.

The smirk on his face irks me. I have to fight really, really hard not to say something he’s not going to like. This is Anthony’s night and I don’t want to ruin it.

“Really?” I ask blandly. I honestly just want him to leave me alone.

“I would have been so upset if I didn’t get to see you, baby girl.” His voice makes my skin crawl, I swear. “Do you want to dance?”

“Ew, no,” I say before I can stop myself.

His smile drops. “Did I hear that right?”

“There’s really no way to mishear the word ‘no,’ Edward,” I state. “No, I do not want to dance. Please leave me alone.”

My lips twitch at the shocked expression on his face. His brown eyes fill with rage.

“You’re a fucking bitch,” he tells me, rising to his feet.

“Dickhead,” I mutter under my breath, glad when he walks away, leaving me in peace.

My brother tries to wave me over to dance but I shake my head with an apologetic expression. I’d probably collapse from exhaustion if I tried to dance right now. But I’ll make it up to him later.

“Stassyy,” Leah sings, falling down onto the couch beside me.

She’s the only person that calls me that. Everyone else calls me either Ana or my full name, which is how I prefer it. But really, I’d let Leah get away with anything. She’s my best friend, practically my sister. She’s been with me through every possible thing that’s made me who I am today.

I sigh softly when she giggles at nothing, taking in the sheen in her eyes. Like me, Leah also has a low tolerance. Unlike me, though, she’s always ready to drink. It doesn’t escape my notice that the cup she’s holding now is different from the one she left with. I have no idea what’s in this one.

“You good, sweetie?” I ask, grabbing a bottle of water and placing it in her hand. She drinks some immediately.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just talking to Abdul over there. He’s hilarious and so hot,” she informs me, rambling a couple of incoherent words in between. “He’s really hot, isn’t he?”

I nod, fighting back a smile. “So hot.”

She grins. “What have you been up to? Apart from sitting and brooding alone. You should pair up with Mr. Tall, Rich and Handsome over there. Since the two of you are so intent on pretending you’re not in a club.”

‘Mr. Tall, Rich and Handsome’ is Mikhail Morozova. Like me, she’s known him since we were teens. Like me, she’s never really spoken to him. Which is why I make a face at her suggestion.

“Why would I do that?”

“Who knows? Maybe you two will hit it off,” she says on a shrug.

“The man is a brick wall. And a jerk.”

Plus, he’s dangerous. Leah has no idea how much, but thanks to the family I come from, I do. Which is why I’ve always tried to stay the hell away from Mikhail.

“He’s also probably the hottest man I’ve ever seen,” Leah says on a soft breath.

It’s true. With his broad shoulders, icy blue eyes, and angular jawline, there’s no denying how good-looking Mikhail is. He looks like a Greek statue come to life. He’s also incredibly intelligent and was able to build a multi-million dollar company from the ground up all on his own, and before the age of thirty.

The man is literally perfect on paper. Then you get to know his personality, who he really is, and it cancels everything else out.

“Stop looking at him,” I caution my best friend.

I’ve seen Mikhail shoot someone for looking at him the wrong way. Granted, Leah doesn’t know that. Like me and Anthony, Mikhail’s family has roots in the Bratva. He’s a Russian man with an affinity for violence, and I’ve had the chance to witness that violence a couple of times.

Which is why it’s so crazy to me that he’s best friends with Anthony.

“Okay, fine. But you can’t deny that he’s intriguing.”

“Yeah, intriguing in a way that makes me want to stay the fuck away from him.”

“Intriguing in a way that makes me want to climb him like a tree,” Leah corrects.

I roll my eyes. “He only dates models with long legs and blonde hair.”

My best friend laughs. “You know you literally just described yourself, right? So you’re his type!”

“I take offense to that,” I say, turning my nose up.

As if to prove my point, a woman who fits my exact description of Mikhail’s type sidles up in front of him. She’s pretty tall, although nowhere near as tall as Mikhail’s six foot four, which is probably why he only likes Amazons. This woman certainly fits that bill. She whispers something in his ear, and his expression doesn’t change as he listens. As soon as she pulls back, he kisses her, hard on the lips.

My lips part as I watch and for some reason, I don’t immediately look away. At least not until Mikhail’s eyes open and his eyes meet mine. The look he gives me is chilling. Somehow, I manage to act like I wasn’t caught staring. Like it doesn’t bother me at all. I arch one eyebrow before quickly looking away.

He unnerves me, and the last thing I want is for him to know that. Leah starts telling me more about her conversation with Abdul and I’m listening when my phone rings.

It’s the editor I had a meeting with yesterday in New York. It’s pretty late. But I did ask him to call me anytime if there were any updates. Which means I need to answer my phone.