DANIEL VOLKOV

I hated wearing suits. It always reminded me of my mom's funeral.

Charlotte was following a video tutorial and re-adjusting my black tie for the millionth time. "God damn it! I did it wrong again."

I was nauseous with nerves. Dreadful. This was the last place I wanted to be.

"Hey!" Niko whispered in my ear. He showed a drawing of a detailed cock about to enter a pussy. "Look, I did this so you know what happens on your wedding night."

"Should I be concerned that you know what my cock looks like?"

"It's all I ever think about."

"That explains a lot."

"Nik, seriously?" Charlotte scolded.

She looked pretty gorgeous with crimson lips and a matching dress. Her hair was parted into vintage curls, and she was wearing a custom-made Medusa necklace with diamonds. Her favorite gift from my mother.

"Oooh, look at you. You look so handsome." She beamed at me, her eyes watering up.

I smoothed my palm over my finished silk tie, uncomfortable with the compliment.

"Come here, guys." Andrei beckoned us to the coffee table in the middle of the groom's room.

We stood in a circle, holding our shot glasses.

His eyes met mine and sparkled with rare, but genuine warmth. "I wanted to give a small toast to our brother. I wish...that today was different. I wish that you were getting married for love.  But you're taking a big sacrifice, not only for us, but for people who can't protect themselves. And I respect you a lot for that. You're a kind, giving person, and with a big heart, even though you don't like to show it. We know you well. And we love you very much."

Charlotte and Niko cheered, the affection in their eyes as raw as the vodka I poured down my throat.

With each step down the aisle, sweat beaded at my temples.

Everyone was staring. Their eyes felt like guns pointed at my head. It was difficult to breathe.

Among them was Tomasso, looking pissed off as hell.

Huh. I wondered if Clara didn't let him walk her down the aisle.

Then she came into my view.

In the black dress I had picked. But never assumed she would wear.

Beautiful and dangerous.

Live string quartet started a slow melody. Melancholic, but passionate, weaving through the glow of candlelights in the dark.

She looked like a dark angel. Her hair was pinned up, loose ends grazing her collarbones. In her gloved hands, she held a daring bouquet. Emerald with blood red, black and rich gold.

Some people were gaping. Some judged. Some were trying not to laugh.

She turned her back on all of them, facing the priest. So I did the same.

The ceremony was cold and formal, and neither of us meant it when we said 'I do.'

At the end, I slipped a ring on her finger, pecked her cheek, and everyone clapped with annoyed obligation.

As soon as it was over, I went back to the groom's suite with Niko, Andrei, and Charlotte. Outside, people attended the cocktail hour.

"Any updates?" I asked in a rush.

Niko said, "Yeah. Found Marko. Looks like Tomasso, but fatter and dumber. He's leaving for Mexico tomorrow."

"He has also referred to Clara as 'that pretty, poor girl' about a hundred times." Charlotte rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Creep."

"Good. Creeps are easy to catch." I drowned another glass of alcohol.

Only four more hours to go until tonight was over. It was time to cut the cake and have our first dance.

The coordinator told me that Clara was in the bridal suite. But when I reached her open door, she was talking to a black-haired guy.

"I love you," he said. "You don't know how much I've been thinking about you. How much I've been worried. I couldn't sleep."

Well, well, well. Boyfriend? Lover boy? How scandalous.

"I'll pray for you," she said. I almost snorted at the dry indifference in her voice.

"You don't know that maniac. I couldn't put your life at risk. That's why I kept my distance." Scared piece of shit, that's what he was. "But your dad is working to get you out of this. Don't worry. He knows what he's doing."

She sighed. "Are you done, Enzo?"

"Why are you being so difficult? I'm just—"

"How about you leave, before I really show you how difficult I can be?"

Oh, yes. Show me! I was mentally rubbing my hands and cackling.

But he chickened out. "Alright, I'll go. But remember what I said."

"Of course. I'll write it down in my diary."

He stomped out. I took cover behind the wall to not be seen by him. Inside, she groaned with tired frustration.

I knocked on the open door to announce my presence and leaned on the doorframe.

She whipped toward me and gasped.

Her eyes raked over my suit, and I took the liberty to do the same with her.

Just...stunning.
Annoyingly stunning.

"If I knew you'd wear my gifts, I'd buy lingerie too," I said with a smile to lighten the mood. "Maybe a couple of crotchless panties..."

She narrowed a hateful look at me.

"You like it, don't you?" I asked. "You are wearing it."

"Well...I didn't want to wear white for a wedding that isn't my choice."

"That's why..." I brought a hand to my neck, avoiding her gaze. "I thought maybe you should, um, wear white on your real wedding day. One day..." I cleared my throat, regaining my composure. "I-I didn't want to ruin that too."

Not awkward at all, Daniel.
Not awkward at ALL.

"How long will our fake marriage last?" She crossed her arms. "Until you bankrupt my dad and steal his business?"

"Nice try. We're not close enough for me to tell you all my secrets. Are we, Rossi?"

"If my unending desire to see you dead counts as not being close enough, then yes."

I smirked at her instant wit. "How come Tomasso didn't walk you down the aisle? Are you not talking to him?"

"Why do you care?"

Okay, too soon. No need to poke a fresh wound.

I reached for the bottle of whiskey on the table beside her and offered it to her.

She raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"You need it," I said.

"You have no idea what I need."

"Actually, I do. But since I can't give you what you really need, this is the easiest alternative. Have a shot. I've had a couple already."

She took the bottle and chugged, keeping her simmering brown eyes on me the whole time.

"Come on. Let's go cut the cake. They're waiting."

"Ugh."

"I'll let you lick it off my finger to piss off your parents?"

She made a face. "In your dreams."

My lips curved and my voice came out softer than I intended. "It'd be a nice break from the nightmares, I'll tell you that."

Ten minutes later, we were facing the flashing cameras and the gathered people cheering for us.

Her mom kept yelling at her 'SMILE!' Or 'STAND UP TALLER' or 'PUSH YOUR SHOULDERS BACK!'

Jesus Christ. I felt bad for the girl.

I reached for the cake to cut it and get it over with, but she stopped me.

Confused, I watched as she glared at her mom, then took my hand and pushed all my fingers down, except...

For my middle finger.

Then she swiped it over the icing and—

Sucked it in her mouth. In front of her mom and all the cameras and all the three hundred guests.

Wow.
I mean...
That gave me a semi.

I replayed that moment for the rest of the night. Purely for survival purposes. Nothing else.

We forced ourselves to dance until her mom was satisfied, until the journalists had enough pictures, and until everyone on their side accepted that this marriage was official.

Part one of the plan? Successfully completed.

The next morning, we were in a private jet for our 'honeymoon.' As far as her family was concerned, we'd be in the Swiss mountains for two weeks.

But in reality...

"I think now is a good time to let you know..." I said to Clara next to me. She was staring out the window at the ocean. "We're not going to Europe. We're actually going to Mexico."

Andrei groaned from the couch behind me. Niko snorted and Charlotte sighed.

Clara turned to me with rounded eyes. "What?"

"Did I ruin your plans? Were you hoping to sell your wedding ring, buy a train ticket, and change your identity? Never see me again? How rude."

Judging from the flustered way she averted my gaze, I knew I hit the jackpot.

She was planning to run from me. Smart woman.

"Why are we going to Mexico?" She demanded.

"For work."

"What does that involve?" She narrowed her eyes. "Putting another tortured man on a leash and forcing a girl to marry you?"

"I could put you on a leash, if you'd like."

She did not look amused. "Tell me."

"I don't understand anything," I said in my language to piss her off. "I only speak Russian."

She leaned closer and said in a low voice, "Then speak, asshole. Why are we going to Mexico?"

I was dumbfounded.

She had an accent, but still. She caught me off guard. Not a lot of people could do that.

"Aren't you a sneaky little thing?" I settled back, spreading my legs wider. "Well, go on."

"What?" She scowled.

"Don't stop. Keep speaking Russian."

"Daniel." Charlotte popped beside me, her face set like iron. Andrei was staring like he was ready to beat me with a baseball bat. "A word?"

Okay, fine. I was flirting with the enemy. But it wasn't like she wanted me! Getting on her nerves was a nice distraction from my mind. Some would call it therapy. A form of self-care. I was simply taking care of my mental health.

The jet lowered and stopped in front of a villa, perched on a white sandy beach.

The scent of saltwater in the moist air stuck to my skin. Doves, parakeets and macaws argued from the foliage around. Their sounds mixed with the rhythmic crash of the waves.

Grigor and Artiom carried our luggage in. Everyone knew what they needed to do.

Get ready.
Change clothes.
Get out.

I entered the nearest bathroom to piss, then washed my hands. But the moment I unlocked the door, Clara pushed me back inside.

What a pleasant surprise. "Oh, uh, hello—"

"Take me with you."

"Ha. For sure." I raised my brows when she kept glaring. "Oh, you're serious. Mm, no. I don't think so."

"Take me with you!"

"I honestly don't take orders. I barely take suggestions—"

"I am not staying behind—"

"You don't even know where we're going." I tilted my head at her impressive determination.

"I don't care."

"What if it's dangerous?"

"You're kidding me, right?"

"No. I'm not. Not to mention, I don't trust you. So if you'll excuse me—' I stretched my arm past her to open the door, but she remained still like a statue. "Move, please."

"What are you going to do?" She lifted her chin, but her voice lowered with uncertainty. Fear. "Are you going to hurt me if I don't?"

"If I was going to hurt you, I would've done it when you tried to poison me. Wouldn't I?"

She swallowed and her eyes—maybe unintentionally—drifted to my mouth.

Oh?

Perhaps it was our proximity in this small bathroom. Her back pressed against the door. With me standing close enough to feel her body heat. To smell her seductive, subtle scent radiating from the crook of her neck. Right there. I wondered how soft it would feel to brush my lips across it. Lick it. Taste it. Claim it.

"If you plan on doing something bad, then it's better you let me go now," she murmured, looking me dead in the eyes. "Because I don't care how powerful you are or what you are capable of, Volkov. I don't care if you kill me. I will do whatever it takes to stop you. I will not stop. Do you understand?"

"Such strong morals," I teased.

"If I didn't have strong morals, then why would I protect my dad when you attacked him?"

"Easy. You love him. Love blinds people."

"Love is irrelevant. I would risk my life for anyone who didn't deserve to get hurt."

"How do you determine who deserves it and who doesn't?"

She stumbled for the right answer. "I don't...know. But I know that it's not fair to ruin people's lives for your own benefit."

"Then we're on the same page." Yes. This was exactly what I was hoping for. But could she really help me? "Are you really willing to step out of your comfort zone? Because it's not going to be easy or pleasant, I promise you that."

"I am."

Someone knocked. Andrei. "Are you coming?"

"Be right there!" I flipped the faucet on, so the running water covered our conversation.

Clara was breathing harder.
So was I.
One last test.

"Prove it." I pulled my pocket knife out and flicked the blade open. "Give me your hand."

Her voice pinched higher. "Why?"

"I'm going to cut you. If you can handle the pain, then I'll tell you where I'm going."

"I said I want you to take me."

"That'll cost a blood oath. Do you know what that means? It means if you tell anyone, I have the liberty to inflict as much agony and terror on you as I please. You won't have a choice, but to take it. You will be mine. Mind, body, and soul. Until I'm done with you. Do I make myself clear?"

Her eyes hardened. "Crystal clear."

"Give me your hand." I opened my palm.

She placed hers on top of mine.

Keeping my eyes on her, I lowered the tip of the blade in the center of her palm, tearing her skin.

She flinched, mouth falling open as a small pool of crimson collected around the weapon.

"No tears?" I clicked my tongue. "You are full of surprises, darling."

She hissed like a feral cat. "Now do yours."

"Why the hell would I do that?"

"Aren't we...supposed to shake hands?"

"No way." I sized her up with mock-disgust. "I don't know where your blood has been."

She choked. "E-excuse me—"

"I don't want your cooties."

"You are such—"

"A tasty dream?" I grinned.

A growl ruptured out of her. "Oh, I hate you so fucking much—"

"The feeling is mutual, love. Now, ready for some fun?"

A/N
Curious, are we team Clara or Daniel? 👀