Mile High Daddy: Chapter 8

The church is massive, cold, and unforgiving. High vaulted ceilings loom overhead, adorned with murals of saints and angels that stare down as if they’re judging every breath I take. Light filters through stained-glass windows, casting fractured colors across the stone floor. It’s a beautiful place, sure, but it feels more like a tomb than a sanctuary.

The pews are filled, though the guests are quiet, their chatter muted as they wait for the ceremony to begin. Men like me don’t have weddings—we have negotiations. Deals disguised as vows, alliances sealed with rings. That’s all this is.

Torres stands off to the side, his ever-watchful eyes scanning the room. He leans closer to me, lowering his voice. “The shipment’s been delayed,” he murmurs. “They’re asking for more time. Issue with Andrei.”

Andrei’s name is enough to send a fresh wave of irritation coursing through me, but I push it aside. “I’ll deal with it later,” I say quietly.

Torres hesitates, but a quick shake of my head sends him back to his post. I don’t have time for Andrei right now. Not today.

The low creak of the chapel doors draws my attention, and my heart thrums as I turn to see her.

Lila.

I don’t get nervous. Not in meetings, not in fights, not when I’m staring down the barrel of a gun. But right now, my heart is thrumming in a way that’s unfamiliar and unwelcome.

She’s walking beside her father, Ethan Evans. He looks as stoic as ever, his broad frame and hard expression giving nothing away. I’ve worked with him long enough to know he’s already counted this deal as a win, the daughter he’s paraded down the aisle just another piece in his endless game.

But her? She’s something else entirely.

Her face is obscured by the veil, but I can see the way her shoulders are slumped, the way she clutches the bouquet like it’s her lifeline. The dress—God, the dress—it’s everything I imagined and nothing I wanted. She looks like a goddess, ethereal and untouchable, and it hits me harder than it should.

I hate this.

I hate what I’m doing to her, the position I’ve put her in. She doesn’t deserve this—any of it. She doesn’t even know the full truth yet, and when she does…

My chest tightens, but I force the thought away.

I have no choice.

Her steps falter slightly, and for a moment, I think she’s going to turn and run. My pulse spikes as her father’s arm wraps around hers, steadying her.

When they reach the altar, Ethan places her hand in mine. Her touch is light, hesitant, and I feel her flinch at the contact.

“Take care of her,” Ethan says quietly, his tone cold and matter-of-fact.

I glance at him, my jaw tightening. There’s no warmth in his words, no genuine concern. Just a reminder of the deal we struck.

“I will,” I reply, my voice steady, though the weight of the promise settles heavily on my chest.

The minister begins to speak, his voice echoing through the church as he reads out the vows. The words blur together, but I force myself to focus, to play my part.

When the time comes, I say the words. “I do.” The sound of my own voice feels foreign, hollow.

Then the minister turns to her, repeating the question.

There’s a long pause, and I can feel the tension in the room rise. She doesn’t speak right away, and I wonder if she’s going to refuse. Part of me hopes she does, even as I know the consequences would be disastrous.

Finally, her voice comes, soft and trembling. “I do.”

The minister smiles, pronouncing us husband and wife, but I barely hear him. My focus is entirely on her. I step closer, reaching for her veil. My hands tremble slightly as I lift it, the soft fabric sliding back to reveal her face.

Her green eyes meet mine, wide with shock and something else—betrayal.

Her lips tremble, and the color drains from her face so quickly it’s as though someone pulled the life out of her. She sways on her feet, her fingers loosening their hold on the bouquet until it slips from her hands and lands softly on the marble floor.

“Lila?” I step closer, reaching for her, my heart pounding as I watch her stumble.

And then she collapses.

Her knees buckle, her body crumpling like a marionette with its strings cut. Instinct takes over, and I lunge forward, catching her in my arms just before she hits the ground.

The room erupts into gasps and murmurs, the guests shifting and craning their necks to see what’s happening.

I ignore them.

All I can focus on is her—her pale face, the way her lashes flutter against her cheeks, her shallow breaths as she lies limp in my arms.

“Lila,” I murmur, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Kiska, wake up.”

Her father is by my side in an instant, his face twisted in a mixture of concern and frustration. “What the hell happened?”

“She fainted,” I say flatly, my voice sharp as I glare at him. “She’s overwhelmed.”

Ethan’s lips press into a thin line, but he doesn’t argue. “Take her somewhere private. She doesn’t need an audience for this.”

The whispers are growing louder, curiosity and judgment rippling through the crowd. Torres steps forward, his massive frame blocking the view of the nearest onlookers. “Boss?”

“Clear the room,” I say curtly, gathering Lila closer to me as I rise to my feet.

Torres nods, his booming voice echoing through the chapel as he orders the guests to leave.

I carry Lila down the side aisle, her head resting against my chest, her body soft and light in my arms. Her faint breaths tickle my neck, a small reassurance that she’s okay.

By the time I reach the quiet antechamber off the main hall, the whispers are muffled, and the tension in my chest eases slightly. I lay her gently on the chaise lounge, brushing my fingers against her cheek as I crouch beside her.

Her lashes flutter, and she stirs slightly, her lips parting as a faint groan escapes her. Relief floods through me.

“Lila,” I say softly, my hand still resting against her face. “Can you hear me?”

Her eyes blink open slowly, hazy and unfocused. She looks at me, and for a moment, there’s nothing but confusion in her gaze.

Then recognition dawns, and the shock returns, her body tensing as she tries to sit up.

“Easy,” I say, pressing a hand to her shoulder to keep her from moving too quickly. “You fainted.”

Her eyes dart around the room, her breathing quickening as the reality of the situation settles in.

“You,” she whispers, her voice shaky. “It’s you. I…I married you.”

I nod, guilt twisting in my chest as I meet her gaze. “Yes, kiska. It’s me.”

Lila blinks up at me, her eyes wide and clouded with confusion. Her hand presses lightly against her temple as if she’s trying to piece together a puzzle that doesn’t make sense.

“How did this happen?” she whispers, her voice trembling.

There’s no easy way to answer her, but I owe her the truth, or at least part of it.

“Lila,” I begin, my voice soft but firm, “you’ve been drawn into a world you didn’t know existed. A world your father and I have been part of for years.”

Her lips part, and she stares at me like I’ve just spoken another language. “What are you talking about? My father…my father doesn’t even—” She stops herself, shaking her head like she can’t believe what she’s saying. “This can’t be real.”

“It is,” I say, my tone steady. “Your father and I arranged this marriage. It was necessary to solidify alliances, to ensure safety on both sides.”

She laughs bitterly, the sound sharp and laced with disbelief. “Safety? Alliances? What does that even mean?”

“It means,” I say, leaning closer, “that there are people who would hurt you to hurt him. People who wouldn’t hesitate to use you as leverage. This marriage changes that. It makes you untouchable.”

Her breathing quickens, and she presses her hands to her face, shaking her head. “No. No, this doesn’t make sense. Why would you—why would he—” Her voice breaks, and she looks at me, her green eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it wasn’t my choice to make,” I admit, my jaw tightening. “Your father kept you in the dark for a reason.”

Her laughter comes again, hollow and broken. “A reason? What possible reason could justify this?”

I don’t respond immediately, my throat tightening as her words cut through me. She has every right to be angry, every right to hate me for the part I’ve played in this.

“You betrayed me,” she says, her voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “You…you knew who I was. From the moment we met. You knew.”

“I did,” I admit, my voice low. “I knew. But I couldn’t tell you. Not yet.”

Her head snaps up, and her eyes narrow. “Not yet? When, then? After you tricked me into this sham of a marriage? When I was trapped with no way out?”

I reach for her hand, but she pulls away, the movement quick and full of hurt.

“I hate you,” she whispers, her voice trembling with emotion. “I hate you for this.”

The words hit me harder than I expect, but I don’t show it. I can’t.

“I understand,” I say softly, my voice steady despite the ache in my chest. “You have every right to feel that way. But, Lila, whether you believe it or not, this marriage isn’t just about me or your father. It’s about you. Your safety. Your future.”

She shakes her head, tears slipping down her cheeks as she looks away. “I don’t care. You had no right. None of you did.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to hate you for this,” she says, her voice low but full of venom. “Forever, Mikhail. For what you did to me.”

I meet her gaze, my jaw tightening. “If that’s what you need to feel, Lila, then so be it.”

Her eyes narrow, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You don’t get to decide what I feel, Mikhail.”

“Maybe not, but someday you’ll understand,” I say.

“I won’t be there when that happens.”

A fierce wave of protectiveness washes over me. I’m not going to let go of her, ever.

“Lila,” I say, my voice low but firm.

She doesn’t turn, doesn’t even acknowledge me.

“Lila,” I repeat, sliding closer to her. “We still have to kiss.”

Her shoulders stiffen further, her head tilting slightly as if she didn’t hear me correctly. “What?”

“It’s tradition,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm brewing between us. “The vows aren’t complete until we kiss.”

She finally looks at me. “You have got to be kidding me. You think I’m going to stand here and kiss you after everything you’ve done?”

I take another step toward her, closing the distance between us. “Yes,” I say simply. “Because you don’t have a choice.”

Her jaw drops, and for a moment, she just stares at me, her disbelief mingling with her rage.

“You’re unbelievable,” she snaps, her voice shaking. “You’ve taken everything from me, and now you want this too?”

“It’s not about what I want,” I reply, my voice calm but firm. “It’s about what has to be done.”

Her hands clench into fists, and I can see the fight in her, the war she’s waging with herself. But after a long moment, she exhales sharply, her gaze narrowing.

“Fine,” she bites out. “Let’s get this over with.”

My hands lift to frame her face. She flinches slightly at the contact but doesn’t pull away. Her skin is soft beneath my fingertips, her cheeks flushed with anger and something else.

I tilt her head up, my gaze locking onto hers. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

Her lips part, her breath hitching, but she doesn’t respond.

I lean in, my lips brushing against hers softly at first, testing, waiting for her reaction.

She stiffens, her body rigid, but she doesn’t pull away. Slowly, her lips move against mine, hesitant at first, then with more purpose. I can feel her resistance melting, the way her body relaxes ever so slightly as the kiss deepens. Her hands, which had been clenched at her sides, lift and press against my chest but she doesn’t push away.

When I finally pull back, her eyes flutter open, and for a brief moment, she looks at me with something other than hatred.

But then reality crashes back in and she steps away, her gaze hardening once more.

“Don’t think this changes anything,” she says, her voice cold. “I still hate you.”

I nod, my own breathing uneven. “I know.”