Page 10 of Untamed Beast
The files were everything I could have wanted. Like my prayers had been answered.
Every detail was juicier than the last. I stayed up all night reading. I don’t know where this information came from, but I’ve never had such a convincing case against a fiancé before. It was a treasure trove.
Emails, photographs, text messages, even a link which took me to a video, recorded on CCTV.
Whoever it came from, they had access to information that no one in our circles even suspected.
My wedding day jitters are not nerves about what married life will be like. Instead, I’m jittery with excitement about the bombshell I get to drop at this ceremony.
When my hair is done, my mother pulls back with a flourish and turns my head so that I’m looking straight at my reflection. My hair is a little too tight for my liking, but I thank her anyway.
“A perfect bride, ready for a perfect wedding,malyshka. We are so proud of you.”
I feel it then, a pang of guilt for letting her and Papa down again.
Iknowhow badly they want me to marry, that the future of our family name is riding on this, and that they’re giving me safe, reasonable choices.
Not one of my prospective fiancés has been cruel. They just haven’t been right, either.
As I slide my feet into the cream silk stilettos lined up next to the mirror, I let myself dream of a love that makes my heart pound and my breath catch — the kind of love you read about in books.
That’s what I’m waiting for.
That’s what I’m fantasizing about as I step into the candlelit church.
My mind is a whole world away from the eyes of the Bratva.
At this point, my weddings are an annual event, so I recognize the guests looking back at me. Children who have grown a whole foot since the last time I saw them, newlywed couples, grandmothers, cousins, the place is packed. Every oneof them is wondering whether I’m going to go through with it.
As my father walks me down the aisle, he murmurs in my ear.
“This one is a good match, Natalia. Remember that no one likes a scheming woman. Don’t do anything foolish.”
I won’t.
But I fear my father and I have different opinions on what would be foolish.
The priest clears his throat to begin, but I step forward, dropping Anton’s hand. There’s no point in making these people sit here for hours until he asks if there are any objections. My father, standing in the front row, shoots me a look of alarm.
“I have an objection,” I say crisply.
A groan goes through the room, followed by a titter of laughter.
Anton’s face shifts from that handsome smile into something darker.
“What are you doing, Natalia? This is not the moment for objections. The priest hasn’t even opened his mouth,” he explains to me, as if I’m an imbecile who doesn’t know how a wedding works. This is my fifth.
I don’t look at him. I don’t need to. I keep my focus on the crowd.
“Anton Romanov, my fiancé, has been passing information to a mafia contact in exchange for money. If you all look under your seats, you’ll find that I have convincing evidence?—”
“Maksim!” Anton lets out a roar, that chiseled, clean-shaven face reddening in embarrassment. He runs straight for my father in the front row of the chapel. “We had a deal. You said that you could control this little bi?—”
This always happens.
The men glare at me, they yell about how I’m a bitch who doesn’t know what she’s talking about, they deny their wrongdoing with forceful, harsh words. I don’t know why they’re always so angered. If their life choices embarrass them so much, why do it in the first place?
I think this reaction only proves the truth of what I’m saying — and the fact that they’re willing to curse in a church doesn’t exactly raise their status in the eyes of the crowd.
