The Wedding Night

Nikolai Volkov

“Papa” Kira's excited squeal hits me before I see her.

She runs up to me, wrapping her tiny arms around my leg like a vine. It's a habit she's developed recently and one I planned on breaking - eventually.

Her small, chubby face beams up at me, and her eyes sparkle with the kind of joy that I've become immune to.

I let out a breath, resting my head on her curls. “What are you doing here Kira? You're supposed to be with Lydia”

Kira giggles, clearly missing the annoyance in my tone. She's made a habit of escaping her nanny at every little opportunity since we got back from Russia. It was a habit that was becoming increasingly worrisome, considering she was a five-year-old child who thought that every opportunity should be seized to play hide and seek.

Shaking her head, she grins up at me, revealing a missing tooth that was still intact when I left this morning.

I make a mental note to put a hundred-dollar bill under her pillow tonight because the last thing I need is a curious five-year-old on my trail wondering why the tooth fairy didn't come to visit her as usual.

“I snuck away,” she says proudly as if that makes it any better. Lydia has been Kira's nanny since she turned two. She's been an esteemed member of the Volkov staff for almost fifty years and the only person I trusted to handle the bundle of joy currently clinging to my pants.

“Is that so?” I ask already moving before Kira can respond. I reach down and scoop up her tiny body effortlessly, setting her on my hip. She wraps her little arms around my neck for support, her cheek resting against my shoulder.

She's unusually light and warm and I wonder if she's eaten anything other than the pancakes we had this morning before I left.

Kira was a picky eater so it wouldn't be surprising if she hadn't eaten anything since I left.

Kira catches sight of Ava beside me, and in that instant, I become acutely aware of the woman beside me.

She hadn't said a word since Kira called me Papa. Truth is, I expected her to be surprised when she saw Kira, but the look on her face was nothing short of confusion.

She was confused about how the image of the heartless killer she painted in her mind had morphed into one of a loving father instead.

Kira tilts her head to the side, accessing Ava's confused features before scrunching up her nose in a similar pattern.

“Who is she?” Kira asks, her eyes fixed on Ava.

Ava shifts awkwardly beside me. She didn't expect this turn of events.

Her brown eyes meet mine, and I expect her to start hurtling questions in my direction the way she did while we were in the car, but instead, she presses her lips together. Words failing her, something I didn't know was possible until now.

I glanced down to where her fingers fisted the fabric of her wedding dress, noticing how her knuckles paled under the intensity of her grip.

She parts her lips as if to respond to my daughter's question, but the words die on her tongue, and she presses her lips shut once more,e, meeting my gaze.

“She’s the person I told you about. Her name is Ava” I explain to Kira, hoping she remembers the conversation we had this morning about me going to go get her a new mother. I don't miss the way Ava's brows shoot up at my words.

Showing up with Ava out of the blue would only cause my daughter to ask me questions that I wasn't ready to answer. So, in order to avoid that, before I left, I made sure to explain to her that I was going to return with a potential stepmother for her.

“You’re really pretty”, Kira announces her innocent voice startling me. I glance back at my wife, whose face flushes at my daughter's compliment.

That we can agree on.

I would be lying if I said my wife wasn't attractive. She was beautiful, fucking hypnotic, with curves that begged to be caressed under my fingertips.

“Thank you” she responds offering my daughter a faint smile, “You're really pretty too”

Kira smiles, “I know. Daddy says I'm the prettiest girl in the universe”

I can't help but chuckle at my daughter's words. Whether I told her she was beautiful or not my little girl would undeniably strut the runway in a tiara that said "queen of the world."

Pride was something that ran in my family and it sure as hell didn't skip my daughter.

“Is your uncle Ivan around?” I ask her, and she shakes her head. Ivan was my second in command and the husband to the only other surviving family member I had other than my daughter. We've known each other since we were kids and he's been my best friend since our fathers decided to send us on our first mission together.

She shakes her head “No, ” She says. "He left pretty early today"

No doubt.

He'd probably freed Alessandro's daughter by now and was probably transporting her back to her father's compound.

Kidnapping Isabella was much easier than I expected, mostly because she hardly put up a fight.

The Moretti's kept their women off the battlefield. They saw them as a liability rather than the lethal weapons they could be. Isabella was a mafia princess, the third highest rank given their hierarchy and you would think that her father would have the common sense to make sure she of all people should at least have some level of training given that she was more prone to attacks

But his misogynistic ass refuses to see the need to train his daughter. Instead, he much rather preferred to leave her protection in the hands of his men.

I almost laugh at the memory of Alessandro's men scampering away once I pulled out my gun.

You would think that a man as powerful as Antonio would know better than to trust the safety of his most precious daughter in the hands of men that couldn't even stand the thought of loosing their lives for the one they sought to protect.

“Will she be joining us for dinner?” Kira asks, interrupting my thoughts, her gaze still fixed on Ava.

Ava blinks up at me, her gaze darting between me and the five-year-old who hadn't torn her gaze away from her since she arrived.

"Um.. I... That's" she stammers out, and I wonder where the woman who'd snapped her fingers in my face when I ignored her had disappeared too.

“Actually," I begin, stopping her words, "Kira, I think our new friend is really tired. Why don't you go find Lydia while I take her upstairs to her bedroom."

I don't wait for her to object before I set her down back on the floor and signal an incoming servant to take her away.

A short woman with brown hair walks toward us, a faint smile gracing her lips as she stops infront of Kira.

“Yes sir?”

“Take her inside” I instruct. She nods and extends a hand towards Kira which my daughter hesitates before taking.

It's clear my daughter doesn't want to leave. But I need her gone in order to get Ava adjusted quickly and ready for the next phase of my plan.

I watch as the elderly lady leads my daughter to the garden, and once the doors leading outside are closed, I turn my head, facing Ava.

“You have a daughter.” She says, surprise twisting her voice.

I nod. Biologically Kira wasn't my daughter. She was the daughter of my brother and his wife who died tragically in the fire that was supposed to claim my life.

I take a step towards her, watching as the tension in her jaw releases and the space between us evaporate until I'm standing in front of her.

“Is that going to be a problem, Ava?” I ask, my voice low and measured. I don't miss the way her body reacts to the sound of her name on my lips. It's the first time I've said her name since we met and the way her body flushes makes me wish I had said it sooner.

She lets out a long breath and she unconsciously loosens her grip around the hem of her dress.

" I just find it odd that we spent over an hour on the road and you never saw the need to mention her.”

I smirk. It would appear she's found her voice again.

"Would it have made any difference if I did?" I ask, confused why she is angry. My daughter wasn't a subject I typically brought up in a conversation. It was either you knew about her or you didn't and in the world we lived in, I preferred that only a few people knew about her existence.

She opens her mouth, then shuts it, then opens it again but no words come out.

I smirk and tilt my head slightly. "That's what I thought," I say, my voice cool as I watched her battle with her unspoken words.

Stepping back, I turn away and head inside the house. I don't bother to check if she's following behind me but I feel the heat of her gaze burning a hole through the fabric of the shirt.

I stopped and glanced over my shoulder, and sure enough, there she was, staring daggers at me.

If looks could kill, the look Ava was currently giving me was enough to send me plummeting to my grave.

"Are you coming?" I ask my tone casual but pointed

She lets out an exasperated breath before gathering the train of her wedding dresses in one hand and following me inside.

The sound of her heels clicking against the hardwood floors echoes through the spacious entryway as we make our way towards the staircase.

I paused, gesturing towards the staircase, “After you”

She hesitates, glancing at me, a hint of uncertainty in her gaze. When I don't move, she exhales slowly, squares her shoulders and steps forward, her heels clicking against the step.

I follow closely behind, my gaze tracing the elegant lines of her silhouette as she moves up each step.

My God this woman is beautiful. Pretty with curves that begged for me to worship. Against my will, my eyes drop to her ass, and I force myself to tear my gaze away before I do something reckless.

YA tak chertovski oblazhalsya ( I am so fucking screwed)

If one kiss from this woman was enough to shatter any ounce of self control I thought I possessed, imagine what tasting her would do.

She called me delusional at the alter and maybe she was right because only a delusional person would be wondering what the sound of his enemy's daughter's moans would taste like on his tongue.

The plan was simple. Marry her, find out what she knew bout the fire that killed my family and finally, kill her father.

This wasn't the plan. Wanting to fuck her was not the plan.

Our kiss at the altar had been sparked something within me. A hunger I'd long buried with my family.

I knew she was inexperienced with the way she hesitated when my tongue parted her lips back then but that did little to kill my interest in her. If anything it only heightened my need for her.

Staying away from her was probably a good idea for my mental sanity but that didn't stop me from wanting to kiss her again.

Once we reach the top of the stairs I steer her right, heading down the long halls until we stop in front of the room I intended for her to stay in.

“This is your room.” I tell her, pushing the door open.

The room is spacious, with two large windows on either side allowing the soft glow from the sunlight to bath the space.

Ava stepped inside, her eyes widen as she takes in the luscious design. Her gaze bounces from the queen sized bed to the two windows adjacent of it.

It's obvious she's taken an instant liking to the room with the way her eyes roam the space.

She moves closer to the bed, her fingers lightly brushes the edge of a pillow, feeling their texture. A large bookcase leans upright against the wall, the spine of each book turned so that she can easily retrieve a book whenever she needed to.

From the information I'd gathered on her, Ava was an artist. She thrived in the artistic space be it art done by others in any form or hers.

“So soft” she murmurs softly, the sound forcing me to return my gaze to her. Shoving a hand into my pocket I tried to mask my delight in the way her breath hitched as she spoke.

“Everything you need should be in here, if not you can press that” I point to the red button on her night stand, and her gaze follows my finger “and someone will be here to attend to you. Is that understood”

She makes a soft humming sound, glancing at me briefly.

“Take a bath and get ready, dinner will be ready in an hour. Fortunately for you, I won't be around so you'll have to get acquainted with the staff without me.”

“Lucky me” she replied dryly before turning around and plopping her ass down on the bed.

She doesn't ask where I'll be like I expected her to. Instead, she crosses her legs, leaning back slightly on her palm against the mattress. Her posture is relaxed, yet there's a subtle hint of defiance flickering in her eyes as she looks at me.

“Is there anything else you'd like me to do for you, husband?”

I shouldn't like the way she says that. Hearing her call me the word husband unravels something in me and the next thing I know I'm stalking towards her.

Her breath catches in her throat once I'm in front of her. I bend forward, placing a hand on either side of her, my fingers dipping into the plush mattress beside her, caging her in and I don't miss the flash of surprise that crosses her features at my sudden proximity.

“What are you doing?” she whispers peering up at me from beneath her lashes. I could ask myself the same damn question but the answer would still be lost to me.

What was I doing? Maybe it was the fact that her smart mouth had finally gotten to me. My gaze fell to her lips, watching the way the supple flesh parted open under the heat of my gaze and it takes every bit of restraint I have left in me not to lean in and reminds myself just how docile she could be under my touch.

“Tell me, solnishko” I paused, raising a hand to trace an invisible line with my finger down her cheek. I stop just below her bottom lip, brushing my thumb against the delicate skin. I pretend not to notice the sharp exhale the actions causes her and grab her chin between my thumb and forefinger, lifting her eyes to meet mine.

She shivers under my touch and a smug smile graces my lips at her reaction.

“Would you do anything I asked like a good little wife?”

Her eyes linger on my lips, her gaze flickering with something she desperately wanted to hide.

Desire.

She wanted me too and the thought was killing her.

Something flashes in her gaze and the sight is fucking riveting.

“You wish” she spat, her voice dripping with venom but her gaze betrays her, staying rooted on my lips.

A slow smirk spread across my face as I let my fingers drop from her chin, the warmth from her skin lingers on my fingertips moments after I break the contact.

Her lips remain parted, as if she had expected me to do more. And I almost do. Fuck do I almost give her exactly what she needs. What her body so desperately craved.

But I don't.

Cursing internally, I take a step back and watch as the heat in her eyes dissolve into surprise and then mortification.

“Get some rest, solnishko.” I murmured, my voice low and taunting “And the Next time you ask what I want I’ll make sure you're on your knees begging to find out”