Chapter 7: Chosen By A Sinner: Chapter 6

Things couldn’t progress any better than if I had planned it myself.

I have Mariya all to myself.

With predatory possessiveness, I watch as she downs another glass of champagne. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes sparkling as the alcohol strips her of the pressure of being a bratva princess.

She still looks uncomfortable being alone with me, so I don’t stop her when she picks up the cherry bomb shot the server just placed down.

When she’s done downing the drink, I take the glass from her and set it on the table. Taking hold of her chin, I force her to look at me. “Just how drunk are you right now?”

Instead of answering me, she narrows her eyes. “Why aren’t we friends?”

The way her words slur tells me she’s drunk as fuck.

My eyebrow lifts. “Because you drew a line between us.”

“I did?” Confusion mars her forehead as she leans closer to me, resting her shoulder against the couch. “So it’s not because you don’t like me?”

Baby, like is the understatement of the fucking century. You have no idea what you do to me.

Our faces are inches apart, her breath sweet, her lashes lowered as if she’s the predator and I’m the prey.

So fucking breathtaking.

Suddenly Mariya closes the distance between us, and her mouth slams against mine. My hand instantly moves to frame her cheek, and it doesn’t even take a second for me to react.

Fuck, I’ve wanted this woman for so long that all rational thinking comes to a dead stop.

My tongue thrusts into the sweetness of her mouth, light explodes behind my eyelids, and every muscle in my body tightens. I grow impossibly hard in a nanosecond.

Christ Almighty.

I was hoping to convince Mariya to give us a chance, but never did I imagine I’d get to devour her mouth so soon.

A satisfied groan rumbles from deep in my chest as the kiss grows borderline filthy. She tastes intoxicatingly good. Our breaths speed up, our tongues war, and I almost lose self-control.

Usually, I wouldn’t give a fuck and take what I want, but Mariya Koslov is not a woman you use as a one-night stand. You have to be worthy of her.

Reluctantly, I pull back, and my eyes search her face for any sign that she might regret the kiss. She’s breathless, blinking as if she’s caught in a daze and looking downright fuckable.

Christ, she’s going to make me lose my mind.

Then it hits that Mariya was the one to initiate the kiss. Even though she’s intoxicated, it has to mean she’s definitely interested in me.

Having had enough of the loud music, I pick up the tumbler of whiskey and toss the fluid down my throat. Setting the empty glass down, I grip hold of Mariya’s hand, pulling her to her feet.

I grab my jacket and place it over her shoulders which has her mumbling, “I don’t want to go to the hotel.”

“We’re not.” Wrapping my arm around her, I hold her slender body tightly to my side as I guide her to the exit.

I’m not gonna lie. It feels incredible having her lean into me.

Once we’re outside and passing the golden lion statue at the front of the club, I say, “Let’s take a walk so you can clear your head.”

There’s no way I can have a serious talk with her about us dating while she’s drunk out of her mind.

She leans into me more and places her hand over my abs. “Hmm…”

On the spur of the moment, I press her to my chest in a tight hug, and lowering my head, I take a deep breath of her scent.

Christ, it feels so good just to hold her.

My eyes keep scanning our surroundings, totally on guard for any threats.

Reluctantly, I free her from the hug, and we walk down a couple of blocks. Suddenly Mariya tries to pull away from me, her arm lifting as she points toward something across the street. “Look.” She squints as she reads, “Traditional… Elvis…” she starts to laugh. “A mob wedding. God, we have to do it!”

Grabbing hold of my hand, she pulls me toward the chapel. Before I know what’s happening, Mariya approaches a man dressed as Elvis and demands, “Marry us.”

What?

My gaze snaps to her flushed face because it’s the last thing I expected to hear out of her mouth.

“Do you have a license?” Elvis asks, not in the least surprised. This kind of thing must happen a lot.

I’m just about to tug her away from the chapel when disappointment tightens her features. “Damn. There goes my only chance.”

My eyebrow lifts as I keep staring at Mariya, and the idea starts to grow on me at the speed of light.

Elvis steps closer. “The marriage bureau closes at midnight.” He checks the time on his wristwatch. “You still have forty minutes. Get a license, and we’re good to go.”

A smile splits over Mariya’s face as she stumbles into my side. “Yes!” Her fingers splay over my abs, her eyes shining like stars as she looks up at me.

Christ.

My gaze flicks between Elvis and Mariya, and when she takes hold of my hand and starts to drag me to the road to hail a cab, the thought solidifies in my mind.

I can get away with marrying Mariya tonight and blame it on us being drunk.

Holy fucking shit.

Am I willing to go that far to make her mine?

Yes.

Without a fucking doubt. I’d do anything to make this woman mine.

We climb into a cab, and Mariya excitedly tells the driver where to go. Drunkenly she slumps against me, trying to give me a mischievous grin. “Whoever you have your sights on can go fuck herself. You’re marrying me.”

I wrap an arm around Mariya to keep her locked to my side, then murmur, “Whatever you want, mia regina.”

Money takes care of many problems when you’re in a rush to get married.

In forty minutes, I manage to get a marriage license and wedding rings. I’m sure as fuck not shoving just any ring onto Mariya’s finger and got her the biggest diamond I could find in Vegas.

Back at the chapel, Mariya keeps laughing, finding it hysterically funny that they’re officiating a mob wedding for us – a bratva princess and the head of the fucking Italian mafia.

Wearing a simple white cocktail dress, she looks stunning. Then again, she’ll look gorgeous in anything. A happy smile never leaves her face as she stares up at me, her eyes sparkling like polished stones.

I’ve never seen her like this – carefree. She’s always been overly polite or downright cold. But not tonight. Not with the alcohol rushing through her blood.

If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve mistaken the sparkle for love. Knowing that’s not the case, I need to get this wedding done before she sobers up.

I impatiently gesture for Elvis to hurry the fuck up. He rambles through the practiced lines until I finally get to push my ring onto Mariya’s finger.

It looks perfect on her.

I clear my throat, then lock eyes with Mariya. “You probably won’t remember a word I say, but I’m going to say it anyway.” My hand grips hers, and our fingers intertwine. “You’re the only woman for me, Mariya. I’ve waited patiently while building my empire, and now that I’m the head of –” I catch myself before saying Italian mafia in front of Elvis. “Now that I’m at the top, there’s only one thing missing from my life.” I step closer to her as I admit, “You.” My thumb brushes over the diamond on her finger. “Everything I have, everything I am, is yours, Mariya.”

After I have to help her push the ring on my finger, she places a hand against my jaw and stares up at me again. “Do you feel it, Luca?”

“What?”

She stumbles slightly into my chest, then leans against me, her right hand gripping my shoulder. I wrap one arm around her to keep her standing.

With drunken bravery, she says, “The pull between us?”

My lips curve up. “I definitely feel every spark and sizzle, baby.”

Her smile grows with satisfaction. “Good.” She lets out a chuckle. “It’s not just me.”

Grinning, I ask, “Are those your vows?”

She shakes her head, tears starting to shimmer in her eyes. Her fingers brush over my cheek and jaw, her eyes filling with a look I haven’t seen before.

“I can’t cook or do anything wives are supposed to do, but I love you, and I’m hoping that will be enough.”

The words hit like a Tsunami. Hearing Mariya say she loves me knocks the air from my lungs. I’m so fucking stunned, I can only stare at her.

How the fuck did I not know? How did I miss it?

“It drives me insane,” Mariya continues. “I’ve loved you forever.” Unsteady on her feet, she leans heavier into me. “Plus, I’m good in bed.” A mischievous smile tugs at her lips. “Really good.”

I’m still recovering from the shock of hearing she loves me when she chuckles, ‘I do,’ binding herself to me for life.

Slowly my mouth curves up, intense satisfaction flooding my chest.

Jesus Christ.

It’s done.

Mariya actually went through with marrying me and said she loves me.

Guilt threatens to ruin the moment because I took advantage of her intoxicated state, but I shove that shit deep down.

Lifting my hands, I frame her face, the black wedding band on my ring finger, reminding me we’re bound until death. “You’re mine, Mariya Cotroni.”

Christ, hearing my last name attached to her name is everything.

My eyes drift over her beautiful features, unbelief filling my veins. Every ounce of my love, the possessiveness she makes me feel, and my obsession with her are clear as fucking day in my voice. “My wife.”

She scrunches her nose, looking happier than I’ve ever seen her. “I like that.”

Lowering my head, I tenderly press my mouth to hers. I take a deep breath of the fresh scent always floating around her, and the moment her lips part, my tongue slips inside her heat, savoring her unique taste.

Unlike earlier in the club, I’m overly conscious of every stroke of her velvety tongue against mine. I imprint the kiss deep in my heart, knowing it might have to last me a while before I get to kiss her again.

I have no doubt Uncle Alexei will probably lose his shit, and he might pull a gun on me, but Mariya’s worth facing death for.

That’s if Mariya doesn’t try to kill me herself when she wakes up tomorrow with my ring on her finger.

I tilt my head, deepening the kiss until I’m devouring her.

None of that matters because she’s mine.

All. Fucking. Mine.

The realization hits again, washing over me like a tidal wave.

Mariya’s married to me.

Tomorrow all hell might break loose, but I’ll face whatever comes my way because there’s no way I’m letting her go.

It doesn’t fully settle in that we got married until we’re back at the hotel, and I lower my sleeping bride onto the kingsize bed. She passed out during the ride back to the hotel.

Sitting down next to her, I brush the silky black strands away from her face. “You’re probably going to want to kill me tomorrow.” I lean forward until my face hovers over hers. “But what I want, I get, and there’s no other woman I’d choose to be my wife.”

Mariya groans and turns onto her side to snuggle into a pillow.

I drink in the sight of her parted lips, her creamy skin, her soft hair. She’s absolutely vulnerable right now, and it makes a surge of power fill my chest.

She’s mine to protect.

My lips curve up in a satisfactory smile as I brush my fingers over her flushed cheek.

Getting up, I inhale deeply before I undress down to my boxers. I take a moment to splash water over my face and brush my teeth before I crawl into bed behind Mariya.

Wrapping an arm around my wife, I gently pull her to me. I press a kiss to the back of her neck, then whisper, “I know I did a shitty thing and should at the very least feel sorry, but I don’t. With time you’ll get used to being my wife. There’s no other way because now that I have you, I’ll never let you go.” My lips brush over the soft skin of her neck again. “And even though I’ll have to pretend that I don’t know you love me, I’ll wait patiently to hear you say those words to me again.”

Mariya lets out a sleepy groan and snuggles closer to me, and the moment feels so fucking perfect, I struggle to keep from crushing her to me.

Holding the love of my life, I close my eyes. “Ti amo.”