She looks like sin wrapped in white silk.
How the hell am I supposed to focus on the priest with her standing in front of me, looking like that?
‘Blessed is the kingdom of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…’
The years have only magnified her beauty, turning her into something beyond desirable. I want her more than I should, more than I have any right to.
The priest continues, and I can’t help but look down at her body, how sexy she looks in that gown.
The silk dress clings to her like a second skin, molding to the full swell of her hips, her waist, her breasts. The neckline is cut just low enough to be dangerous, the delicate lace doing nothing to hide the soft curves beneath.
I remember what she looked like without the silk, without the lace.
‘Let us pray to the Lord…’
Six years ago, she was beneath me, her bare skin flushed and glowing in the dim light of my bedroom. No silk, no lace, just her, my hands fondling those perfect tits, my thumbs brushing over her hard, aching nipples, causing her to whimper softly.
I remember the way she looked on the bed, her legs spread, her perfect pink slit glistening.
I remember her eyes, the sensual hunger in them.
I remember the way she felt, warm and wet, so tight around my cock as she said my name, her thighs trembling.
I know these are thoughts I should not be having in church, but I can’t help it.
‘O Lord, bless this union as Thou didst bless Cana of Galilee…’
She came so beautifully, her body tensing, then breaking apart beneath me, her nails digging into my back as she shattered.
I remember releasing inside, my cock pulsing into her.
Today, her dark hair cascades down her back, contrasting with the pure white of her dress, but it’s her eyes—those big, smoky eyes—that hit me the hardest.
They flick to mine for just a second before darting away, telling me everything I need to know.
She remembers, too; I know she does, though there’s something in her eyes, something hard and uncompromising.
She’s still defiant.
Good.
‘O Lord our God, who hast espoused the Church as a pure virgin, bless this betrothal…’
My expression remains cold, unreadable. But inside, my blood is boiling. Something I’ve spent six goddamn years trying to forget grips me. I thought this was over. I thought I had buried every last piece of what she once made me feel.
I was wrong.
‘The servant of God, Pavel, is betrothed to the servant of God, Katerina, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.’
When Piotr first proposed this marriage, I almost laughed in his face. The idea that I would take back the woman who disappeared from my life without a word, that I would tie myself to someone who walked away from me like I meant nothing, was almost insulting.
But now, as she stands before me, every bit the beautiful, blushing bride, all I can think is—why?
There’s still something here. Something raw, something unresolved.
‘Grant unto them a long life of mutual love in the bond of peace…’
I tear my gaze away from her long enough to glance at Piotr. He’s standing beside me, his expression the perfect display of brotherly affection as he regards his sister. But when his gaze shifts to me, something dark flickers in his eyes.
‘Fill their hearts with love for one another…’
The small, pleased smile on his lips widens as he nods at me, the picture of a loyal friend, a brother welcoming me into the family.
But it feels fake. Something is off.
‘May the Lord bless and keep them from all harm…’
Vlad and Piotr, the Andreev brothers, came to me weeks ago, talking of alliances, of power, of finally eliminating the Novikov Bratva and solidifying our hold on the city. On paper, the deal makes sense. Once we merge our families, the Novikovs won’t stand a chance.
All it would take is a marriage to their beautiful sister to make it official. She and I have history; therefore, it would make sense for us to officially become husband and wife.
But why now?
‘May the Lord grant unto them peace, harmony, and love eternal…’
For years, there’s been nothing but bad blood between us. The larger Andreev family blamed my family for their parents’ deaths, in the same way I’ve always suspected the Novikovs of orchestrating my father’s murder. But despite the accusations, Piotr and Vlad have remained allies.
‘For blessed is Thy name, and glorified is Thy kingdom…’
I always suspected Kat believed the rumors, that she believed her uncles and cousins over her brothers, and that’s why she left.
Could it be that she’s finally seeing it Piotr’s and Vlad’s way?
She’s a fighter, loyal to a fault. If she’s here, it’s because she’s made a choice. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that this is not what it seems.
For a moment, her eyes flicker up to meet mine, long enough for me to catch the fire still burning in them.
She doesn’t look afraid; she doesn’t look unsure.
She looks determined.
Her hand is warm in mine, soft against my calloused palm. She hasn’t pulled away. I don’t grip too tightly, but I don’t let go either.
I slide the diamond ring onto her finger, watching as the fire in her eyes flickers. There’s a moment of hesitation, a slight crack in the mask she’s wearing.
When she looks at me, I feel it in an instant: a spark, a visceral connection, something neither of us can fake.
Her eyes widen just slightly. It’s the smallest reaction, but I still see it, just like I see the other thing she’s trying to hide—lust.
It’s still there, just like it was six years ago; that same fire; that same hunger. I see it in the way her breath catches, the way her fingers tremble slightly as she slips the simple platinum band onto my finger.
She doesn’t look at me again after that, but it doesn’t matter.
I’ve seen enough.
She’s still mine.
She always was.
