The Bratva’s Auctioned Bride (Levov Bratva #10)

Chapter 8 - Alexander

I had heard stories about mafia weddings before, and I had been to a few myself in the past, but I never thought I’d have one of my own. I never exactly planned for it, but given the circumstances and what needed to be done to ensure my plan continued to move seamlessly, I wasn’t going to complain. It didn’t matter whether it was big or small—all sacrifices amounted to something when it came to my family and our business.

Regardless of that fact, and of how willing I was to do my part, there was no mistaking the uncharacteristic anxiety in my chest as the day arrived.

It wasn’t like me to be nervous for much of anything, and I knew I shouldn’t have been. It was unfounded in my mind, and honestly, it was quite embarrassing, even if I didn’t let anyone else know about it.

Most people made a big deal out of weddings and marriage, but I didn’t feel the need to. Something low-key was more ideal, even if the small ceremony still made me feel a strange sense of doubt.

Even with those foreign feelings merging in my chest throughout the morning while everything was prepared on my behalf by Damien and the others, I forced myself to push it all down. I had to focus on what needed to be done, rather than the unease that started to sprout within me.

To keep my mind in the right place, I focused on the fact that the marriage would be more of a blessing than a chore, given how attracted to Lara I felt.

Since the moment I laid eyes on her, I just wanted her for myself. I wanted to safeguard her from everyone else who might use her selfishly and exploit her in far worse ways. I wanted to protect her, even if she hated me at the moment.

I wanted to give her even more than I physically could at that moment in time, regardless of how little I knew about her.

To me, Lara was invaluable in several different ways, and I desired to prove exactly that to her. While a spontaneous weekend wedding felt like the opposite kind of gesture, I knew it couldn’t be helped.

I had never been concerned about having a genuine marriage or settling down before, regardless of how normal it was for a kingpin to do exactly that for the sake of continuing his name. But with Lara, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.

Marrying her would get me everything I needed, and potentially some things I’d learn to appreciate with time. The thought of having something real rather than something strictly out of duty was far more appealing than the alternative.

I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but a part of me was keening for that reality.

Even with that being the case, I swallowed it all back and forced myself to concentrate on the moment. I didn’t want to seem too eager, even if the idea of calling Lara my wife did send a thrill through me.

As increasingly exciting as it seemed, however, the reality of finding myself in the small chapel, right in the center of a typical rushed wedding, was more lackluster than I anticipated—enough so to temper a bit of that rousing giddiness in me.

If I had made the arrangements myself, I would’ve chosen any other location. At the very least, something outside would’ve been more ideal, given how stuffy it was. But I couldn’t complain too much anyway. My plan was still right on track, and so far, things were still moving in my favor.

Despite trying to stay somewhat optimistic and focused on the goal rather than what was about to happen, it was hard to ignore the awkward atmosphere as my brothers stood near me while we waited.

To keep it even, Damien stood to my right, along with Daniil, while the youngest ones, Valentin and Yuri, were waiting on Lara’s side. They were all dressed neatly, and at least put in the effort to look presentable. A few other family members were there, but beyond that, the party was rather small.

Still, there was no ignoring how nobody really wanted to be there. Especially Lara.

My brothers tried to maintain their stoic expressions as we all waited for the priest to begin, but I occasionally caught their smug smiles. I knew they found it amusing, to my annoyance. When they’d begin to crack, I wasn’t afraid to shoot a warning look in their direction.

Eventually, the ceremony began, and I couldn’t stop myself from glancing over at Lara from time to time. I could tell that she would’ve preferred to be anywhere else, and it was surely painful for her to stand there at my side like that.

The longer it went on, the more those tendrils of guilt began to creep in and take their hold on me.

No part of me wanted to believe that I was in the wrong, or that I might’ve jumped the gun on the whole thing. But as the priest spoke and took us through the motions of it all, I found it more difficult to ignore the nagging feeling that I was making a mistake.

Choosing to tether myself to Lara wasn’t the mistake per se, but the way I was going about it—the hastiness, and the lack of connection between us. Not to mention how much she hated me.

Again, I couldn’t blame her, but at least part of me wished she would spare me a glance. That she would warm up to me a bit more.

As I repeated the necessary words out loud for everyone in attendance to hear, I tried to ignore the possibility that I was condemning us both to a terrible future. To a loveless marriage we would both have to deal with, all because of my decisions.

The moment we were pronounced husband and wife, and Lara had to face me at last, the disdain on her face couldn’t be clearer. While I thought her eyes were among the most beautiful I had ever seen, the way they looked at me then was almost scathing.

Even if I didn’t know her that well, she seemed more like a shell of herself as she stood there, compliant as I leaned in, just barely brushing our lips together.

I couldn’t keep that feeling of remorse down, despite how much I wanted to enjoy that moment. It should’ve felt like a triumph. It should’ve felt like the beginning of success and the notoriety I wanted all along. But even with those soft lips against mine, the guilt only dug deeper. It latched on to me and made my chest feel heavier than it did before.

A small round of clapping came from our small party, and while a part of me wanted to bask in that minor celebration, to accept it as a goal I managed to achieve, that slowly building dread made it even harder.

There was no love in Lara’s eyes, as I had been anticipating, but it still didn’t seem any easier to come to terms with. She hated every moment of it as the ceremony came to a close, and all that was left was to go back home.

On the way out, watching as Lara walked somewhat ahead through the hall of the chapel, I felt Damien’s hand as it clapped against my shoulder, and I could hear the smugness in his tone.

“Congrats, older brother. You’re the first of us to have a traditional mafia wedding.”

Daniil laughed quietly from behind us, the low sound almost grating to me then. “We’re blending in nicely around here now.”

If my feelings had been completely detached, I would’ve at least chuckled at that once. I would’ve been able to see the humor in the typical situation, of getting hitched for the sake of the family business.

Before, it would’ve seemed like nothing at all—a small moment to forget about while I reaped the rewards instead. But then and there, with the weight of my guilt bringing me down little by little, I could only force air from my nose and keep walking.

Eventually, my brothers saw us off as we got into the SUV, and as the door shut behind me, the driver started for the house.

Lara was painfully quiet in the back seat beside me, keeping her gaze fixed squarely out the window as the city passed by.

It was difficult to believe she had been my fiery Levov Princess before. The one who could stand her ground and return that attitude whenever she needed to. Since the moment I dragged her into that chapel and put the ring on her finger, she had been silent.

That tension from her made me feel uneasy, and while I was determined to not show it, I couldn’t help but feel like that iron grip on the situation was slowly slipping from my fingers.

I wanted to say something to her—anything, whether it be a comment about the ceremony, about us being legally married, or even how beautiful I thought she looked in the dress that had been hastily picked for her.

I knew none of those things would help either of us. There was no need to add more fuel to the fire, especially given how numb and emotionally removed she looked.

Regardless of my guilt and the slight doubt that had crept in when I needed it to the least, there was nothing I could do about it then. It was done, and we were married. I couldn’t back out or let those pesky feelings get in the way of my goals.

At the end of the day, I officially had myself a wife, and she would come around to me eventually. She had to.

That was my hope, anyway.