Velvet Devil: A Russian Mafia Romance (20)

She hesitates for a moment, and I wish more than anything that she were with me now. I need a Bree hug. No one loves you like a sister. “Does it feel like a mistake?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe sometimes. Maybe not.”

I smile sadly. “I wish you could be here today. I wish you were all here.”

“I know. I can’t believe my baby sister is getting married and I won’t be there.”

“Have you spoken to Mom and Dad recently?” I ask.

“Last weekend. They’re doing good. Same as always.”

“Have they got used to the new neighbors yet?”

“Mr. Agrawal fixed the stove for Mom last week, so that’s changed their opinion a little. Apparently, Indian people are just like us, it turns out.”

I roll my eyes. “Dear God.”

“Don’t worry. I think they’re inching towards the twenty-first century. Just give them time. They asked about you, by the way. You need to call them more often.”

“I resolve to do exactly that every month.”

“Then what happens?”

“I speak to them and realize why it was a bad idea.”

Bree bursts out laughing. “Fair enough.”

“I’ll give them a call when we’re back in the States,” I say, letting the tentative hope spread through me for one self-indulgent moment. “Maybe we can even visit them at some point.”

“One step at a time, baby sister. Focus on you today. You deserve it.”

“No promises, but I’ll do my best. I have to say goodbye now,” I tell her. “Time to start getting dressed.”

“You won’t be alone though, right?” she asks. “Eric will be there?”

“He needed special permission. But yes, he will be there.”

“And Andrew?”

I wrinkle my nose with distaste. “Urgh… Andrew.”

Bree laughs. “So you still haven’t warmed to him, huh?”

“Not by a long shot,” I reply. “He’s just so cold and brusque with me. But whatever. Once I’m married, I won’t have to deal with him anymore.”

“Why did Eric need special permission, by the way?” Bree asks, with the exact amount of irritation that I feel.

“Probably for the same reason they removed him as my handler and replaced him with Andrew. They feel that he’s too close to my case.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

I shrug. “Who knows? Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. Now that Andrew’s taking over my security and I’m officially going to be leaving the Witness Protection Program, they can’t exactly tell me who I can and can’t keep in touch with.”

“I’ll drink to that,” she mutters.

I laugh, glancing towards the clock. “It’s a little earlier in your part of the world to be drinking, Bree. And speaking of time…”

“Right, of course. You have to go.” She sounds flustered and nervous now.

“Kiss Jo for me,” I say.

“Always do.”

“Tell her I love her and that I’ll call her tonight.”

“Will do.”

“And hopefully, I’ll see you all soon.”

Bree’s holding her breath, just like I am. “I wish you all the luck in the world, little sister. I love you.”

I smile. “You know, I may be marrying Alex today—but you’re always going to be my soulmate.”

“I better be,” she laughs. “You’re stuck with me, Cami. For better or for worse.”

We hang up. The raging silence of my life rushes up to meet me.

I’ve talked to Bree too long. Now, I’ll have to hustle to make it on time. The car will be here to pick me up in half an hour. Better get started.

I shrug out of my fluffy white robe and slip on the dress. It’s undeniably beautiful, and yet I’m extremely uncomfortable in it.

But then, I was never going to be comfortable today.

The hemline falls to my knees, the detailing is subtle and elegant. We’re just going to a courthouse, per Alex’s insistence, but the little girl in me still clung to the idea of getting married in a gorgeous white dress. Who cares if I’m overdressed?

It takes me a few frenzied minutes to dress and put my makeup on. I’ve just slipped into the brand-new pair of silver pumps that Alex brought for me when I get a call from the front desk.

“The car’s here, ma’am.”

“I’ll be right down.”

I walk down, conscious of the fact that I’m completely alone. I console myself with the knowledge that Eric will be at the courthouse, waiting to walk me in.

Except that when the car pulls up to the marbled steps, he’s not there like he promised he would be.

I frown. Eric’s never missed an appointment with me. He’s courteous, timely, a gentleman through and through. Maybe he just had to step aside to take a call or something.

The door opens and the driver offers me his hand. He’s strange-looking for a chauffeur. Six and a half feet tall and burly, with sort of a menacing aura to him. Like he’d be better suited as a cage fighter or something.

I shrug it off and focus my full attention on the steps. Just navigating these bad boys in the heels and long skirt will be a challenge in itself. I’m glad I don’t have a bouquet in hand to complicate things.