Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(44)

And finally, there’s the man I’m about to marry.

The only one who isn’t smiling.

“Hi,” I say awkwardly.

“Paige, chica! You look beautiful,” Konstantin says, scooting aside to make room for me at the table.

His movement reveals an official-looking document placed neatly next to a fountain pen.

“Paige,” Misha murmurs. I hold my breath, waiting for him to tell me something that will help me breathe easier—though why I should expect that, I don’t know. “You know Konstantin already. And this is Yan Carsten. He’s my lawyer. He’ll be our officiant today.”

“Which I find incredibly insulting,” Konstantin says with a pout. “I am your cousin, after all.

Shouldn’t I be officiating?”

“You’re cousins?” I ask, gaping at the two of them.

Konstantin raises his eyebrows and glances at Misha. “She didn’t know that?! Now, I’m even more insulted.”

I glance at Yan, wondering what he makes of this odd little ceremony. Evidently, he’s amused by it.

His gaze is fixed on me with curiosity, and maybe a certain lascivious interest.

The latter drops right off his face the moment Misha turns in his direction.

“Let’s get this over with,” Misha tells him.

I flinch. “Charming.”

Konstantin chuckles under his breath. “Not too late to change your mind and pick me instead.” I’m pretty sure he’s joking, but it still earns him a punch in the arm from Misha. “Fuck! That hurt.”

“Yan,” Misha says again, ignoring his cousin and nodding at his lawyer. “Let’s go.”

Rada is standing off to one corner, her eyes broad with excitement. She seems to be the happiest person in here right now, which strikes me as incredibly sad.

“Where’s your sister?” I blurt out suddenly.

All three men swivel their heads to me in unison.

“My sister?” Misha repeats.

“You mentioned you had a sister,” I say. “And a mother. Where are they? Shouldn’t they be here for this?”

I feel like an idiot bringing this up now. Especially after I see the look on Misha’s face. Of course he didn’t invite his whole family to this marriage—it isn’t real. Not to him, anyway.

“I’ll inform them later,” he says curtly. “Trust me, I’ve saved you a lot of unnecessary fuss and drama.”

Weddings as a whole are unnecessary. They’re an extravagant show of love and commitment. The dress, the flowers, the tux, the cake… it’s all fuss and drama.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t worthwhile.

I stare at him like he’s hiding answers, trying to remember the reasoning that led me to this moment. I had a good reason for saying yes to his proposal, didn’t I?

It’s only when I feel the metal digging into my fingers that I realize I’m clutching my pendant so hard that I’m in danger of cutting my palm open.

I feel Konstantin’s eyes on me. His usual smile is laced with concern. He bends down toward me while Yan talks Misha through the papers and the legal process of registering our marriage.

“Just breathe,” Konstantin tells me. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“How do you know that?” I whisper back.

“Because you’ll be Mrs. Misha Orlov. He will take care of you. He always does.”

Maybe in some ways. Definitely not in others.

But I don’t say that. I just nod back at him and pretend like I’m not on the edge of a panic attack. I pray that my pendant will give me one more miracle.

I’m just not sure what kind of miracle I’m asking for.





33

MISHA

“Congratulations, brother,” Konstantin says, pulling me in for a hug and slapping my back.

I accept his congratulations silently. My eyes remain fixed on my new bride.

Paige is standing by the double doors of the greenhouse, staring off into the dark lawn beyond. She hasn’t said a word since she signed her name on the dotted line and we officially became husband and wife.

“I’ll, uh… leave you to it,” he says, clapping me on the arm one more time before he slips out of the greenhouse. Yan and Rada go with him.

And then we’re alone.

When I hear the glass doors click shut, I stride over to Paige. She stiffens, but keeps her gaze directed forward. She’s having a hard time meeting my eyes.

“I’d offer you some champagne, but—”

“I don’t want anything,” she answers abruptly, as if she’s annoyed I broke the silence.

She pivots toward me slowly. Her cheeks are flushed. It could be from excitement, but judging from the shadow over her eyes, I’m guessing it’s something more like anxiety.

“You should sit down.”

“No.”

I shrug. For once, I’m uninterested in pushing her. She looks fragile.

“Is that chamomile?” she asks out of nowhere, glancing towards the little white flowers with the yellow buds clustered into the corner.

“I think so.” She’s dissociating. Looking for anything to distract from what just happened.

“I don’t like chamomile,” she murmurs vaguely. Then her eyes land on me and sharpen. “Konstantin is your cousin?”