Forbidden Vows: Chapter 19

As the days go by, there seems to be a sea of eggshells stretching between Anton and me. I know I can be my own worst enemy sometimes. It’s something I need to work on, but Anton needs to give a little, too.

“I should’ve leaned into my morning sickness so I could skip all this,” I mumble into my glass, causing Laura to giggle.

“You’re going to go stir crazy in that room. Might as well enjoy an opportunity to socialize,” she says. “Granted, not being able to drink alcohol might make the whole affair a tad gruesome, but I think you need this.”

“Far be it from me to contradict you.”

“Besides, you’re gorgeous in this shade of green. I’m glad I got you to come out of your room tonight.”

I can’t help but smile.

The dress is a beautiful emerald green, creating the perfect contrast with my red hair. It brings out my eyes, too, and I’m wearing the diamond and pearl necklace that Anton got me. The same necklace that caused me to say some rather unpleasant things. Things I feel bad about now.

“It hugs your figure in all the right places,” Laura adds with an encouraging smile.

“Thank you.”

Anton smiles appreciatively at me from across the room. He doesn’t need to say anything. He clearly loves the way I look tonight.

“He can’t take his eyes off you,” Laura whispers, following my gaze. “He can never take his eyes off you, Eileen.”

I chuckle. “I’m guessing you heard about the last argument we had.”

“Would you even call it an argument?”

“It sure as hell wasn’t a lovers’ quarrel. That would require actual love in the relationship.”

Laura rolls her eyes, swapping her empty champagne glass with a full one from the waiter walking by with a loaded tray. There are about a hundred people present here tonight. There’s a live band playing music by the terrace windows, and the ballroom looks beautiful—the chairs are dressed in satin chair covers, sprawling springtime floral arrangements, and candles on every table.

It’s meant to bring the Bratva heads closer together, but even I can sense the thick tension between them these days.

“Someday, you’re going to learn enough about the Karpovs to completely redefine the concept of love you learned from whatever fairytale book you read when you were younger,” Laura says, then waves and smiles at another Bratva wife.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I’m being a Debbie Downer, aren’t I?”

“I get it,” she says as she waves at somebody else.

Everybody knows and appreciates her. So many women are eager to talk to her, yet she’s here with me, keeping me company instead of buzzing around and socializing like the Bratva queen she is.

“Up to a point, I’m sure you do,” I reply, “but we both know I’m dealing with way more than just separation anxiety.”

“Separation from your family, you mean.”

“Yes.”

“I know Anton and Andrei considered inviting the Donovans tonight, but it’s supposed to be a Bratva thing. Inviting the Donovans would’ve meant inviting other non-Russian families, too, and the boys are still mending fences with the Benedetto’s.”

“Can’t say I’m surprised after that whole debacle with Tommy Benedetto.”

“I think we are all in agreement that wasn’t Andrei’s finest moment,” Laura chuckles. “But that’s my man—smart and savvy until you cross him. Thankfully, Anton was there to save the day, and you, if you remember.”

“How could I forget?”

Laura sighs deeply. We both gaze across the room to where Anton and Andrei are busy talking to the Ivanovs and the Fedorovs. I’ve been brushing up on my Russian genealogy lately, and I’m pleased that I’m able to recognize almost half of the people present at this function. It makes me feel less lonely.

“The Karpov men didn’t have it easy growing up. Their mother passed away at a time when they still needed her gentle influence. Their father was a titan, an ironclad bastard, the typical Russian warlord albeit in a pinstripe suit,” Laura tells me. “Which is why both Anton and Andrei aren’t the share-their-feelings type. I’ve been married to Andrei for quite a while now, and do you know how many times he’s told me he loved me?”

I give her a curious look. “Once?”

“You underestimate him,” she flashes a cool grin. “Three times.”

“Wow.”

“I know, right? He practically fell apart the first time he said it, shaking like a leaf in a windstorm,” she says. “Watch their actions, Eileen, not their words.”

I nod slowly. “I keep telling myself that. Besides, it’s way too early for me to demand love from a man who barely knows me.”

“Give him time,” Laura replies. “He’s proven himself thus far, hasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“He listens when you have something to say, right?”

“Unless it’s about me going out, even with a double security detail. Then he just shuts down on me. Completely.”

Laura raises an eyebrow. “After the heap of trouble you got yourself and Ian into, you bet your sweet ass he’s going to shut down on you. There are some things you’re clearly going to have to learn the hard way.”

“I don’t like living in a cage. Laura. A gilded cage, granted, but it’s still a cage.”

“We put on a nice dress, a fancy pair of shoes, beautiful, priceless jewels. We’ve got disposable income at our fingertips, people tending to our every need and whim… living is about making yourself comfortable in your cage, Eileen, just as I’ve learned to make myself comfortable in mine.”

I shake my head slowly. “Truth be told, I agree with you. Born and raised a Donovan, I feel like I traded one gilded cage for another. I guess I’m just tired of it all.”

“No, what you are is anxious. Afraid. Thrown into a situation you never truly wanted. Not on these terms, anyway. I suppose you would’ve liked a traditional first date, a few dates with Anton before he popped the question.”

“I would’ve liked it if our first date didn’t involve him kidnapping me, that I knew his name, and if Anton had popped the question in general,” I chuckle.

“Yeah, I know. They’re terrible at this,” she says. “Andrei practically shoved a marriage contract in my face. I told him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine and to propose to me like a real man, even though the whole thing was a setup from the start.”

I’m about to ask her about those first few months of their marriage when an intense presence clouds the corner of my eye. Slowly, I turn my head and see him approaching. “Oh, shit,” I mutter, damn near crushing my virgin cocktail glass with my bare hand. “Sergei.”

“Relax, nobody’s packing tonight,” Laura whispers.

“What?”

“Guns. Knives. This is a clean event. Everybody got screened thoroughly before they even made it through the gates,” she says.

“Mrs. Karpova,” Sergei says upon reaching us. “It’s nice to see you again; however, I wish it were under different circumstances.”

“Mr. Kuznetsov,” I politely reply, my skin crawling all over. I’m grateful to have Laura by my side in such an uncomfortable moment. My gaze briefly wanders across the room again, looking for Anton. I don’t see him anywhere, which is probably why Sergei decided to approach me. “What do you mean?”

He smiles, but it’s a flat, fake smile. “I mean under different circumstances, you and I as man and wife. Alas, that wasn’t possible. No hard feelings, though?”

“Really? No hard feelings?” I snap, remembering the attack that Ian and I barely survived. “Then what were those goons doing around my father’s house?”

“I can assure you I wasn’t responsible for that. I’ve presented the Karpov brothers with all the evidence they needed to no longer consider me a threat,” Sergei calmly says. “I suppose they still suspect me of dark intentions, but I’ve moved on. As for the goons you mentioned, I don’t know anything about that. As I told your husband, I am not responsible. If the factions within our organization were offended by the whole affair, I greatly apologize, but I had nothing to do with the attack at your father’s house.”

“Whatever, Sergei. I was almost shot down in the middle of the street. While pregnant, might I add.”

“Mrs. Karpova, I understand your frustration and I agree it was a most heinous act. As a gesture of good faith, I offered my security resources to the Karpov brothers to catch the assailants as quickly and as swiftly as possible,” Sergei says.

I have a hard time believing him. Everything about him feels fake, like he’s slithering around me like a snake prepping his prey, but a man of his stature is difficult to take down without any palpable evidence.

“Did they ever catch the assassins?” Laura asks, her tone much softer than mine.

He shakes his head. “I’m afraid not. But I do know they won’t be foolish enough to try again. Especially now that I have been somewhat vindicated.”

“What do you mean by that?” I ask.

“You haven’t heard? Oh, I suppose you’re still estranged from your stepsister. Ciara can be remarkably proud, but it’s what I like best about her,” he laughs lightly.

My stomach drops. “I don’t understand.”

“Your father proposed I marry Ciara in light of your unforeseen nuptials. I made her quite an attractive offer,” Sergei says, his eyes carefully searching my face. “I have a good feeling about it, too. I’m confident Ciara and I will forge quite the—what do they call it? Power couple.”

It’s as if the entire ceiling just dropped onto my head.

For a moment, I find myself unable to breathe. My vision blurs, and the room starts spinning. A subtle nudge from Laura brings me back to earth, grounding me as I look at her in sheer horror, then back at Sergei.

“Excuse me?” I ask with a weak voice.

He seems quite satisfied with my reaction. The manipulative prick. “Ciara may very well accept my marriage proposal. If she does, plenty of fences will be mended and we will become family, after all.”

“Ciara would never.”

“I don’t know, after the stunt you pulled with Anton Karpov, I wouldn’t put it past her,” his smile is sinister. “She would suit me better, anyway, and it’s in her best interest, as well, if you think about it. Your father won’t be around forever.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past her, either,” Laura mumbles in my ear.

Sergei is clearly pleased with himself as he takes a moment to look around. Yet when he sees Anton coming, quickly carving a path through the thick crowd of guests, his humor fades. No wonder. The look on Anton’s face speaks of bloody murder.

“Either way, it’s a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Karpova. And I do hope that you and the baby are in good health,” he says.

“Babies,” Laura shoots back. “They’re having twins.”

It’s Sergei’s turn to look surprised. “What can I say, other than congratulations?”

“The Karpov seed is strong,” I reply. “I can’t say I regret my choice.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” he hisses before disappearing into the crowd in the opposite direction from which Anton quickly emerges.

“You missed him by a literal hairline,” Laura says.

“He knew the deal when I extended the invitation,” Anton growls, clearly furious. “He was to keep his distance from you. What did he say?”

“He just wanted to bring me up to speed regarding my stepsister and their potential wedding. You know, since my family couldn’t be bothered to inform me.”

“Oh.”

The flatness of his tone makes my blood boil as I narrow my eyes at him. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

“Yikes,” Laura quips. “Let me take you out on the terrace for a bit, Eileen. I think you need some fresh air.”

I stare at Anton for a long minute, furious. But this is a public setting. A Bratva event. I won’t embarrass him or myself, not after Sergei Kuznetsov basically laughed in my face. Laura is doing the smart thing by leading me outside.

“Don’t let them see us divided,” I mutter as I let her accompany me out of the ballroom.

We leave Anton behind, his gaze burning into the back of my neck.

He knows a conversation is coming.