Seduction: A Dark Bratva Fake Marriage Romance (Wicked Vows)

The next twenty-four hours pass in a whirlwind.

I’m so thankful that my mother’s with me.

I want to be alone with Nikko as we have so much to talk about and so much to share.

I want to tell him I forgive him. I want to tell him I love him.

His testimony at that trial. . . And the results.

I don’t know how a woman like me, who has a higher level of education, can’t wrap her brain around the simplest of things. But I can’t quite comprehend the fact that we’re getting married. I never imagined that I would end up in an arranged marriage. But also. . . engaged to the man I love.

Is he really the man that I love? Yes. Yes, my God, I love Markov. . . No. Nikko. I don’t care what his name is or who his family is; I love this fierce, strong, selfless man who would lay down his life for me.

“Are you okay?” my mother says in my ear. Nikko’s mother, Ekaterina Romanov, has set us up in a beautiful guest room on her estate. We only just arrived an hour ago, and while I’m tired from travel, I’m energized with what will happen in the days ahead. I am eager to put all of this behind us. Eager to be united to Nikko without false pretenses.

The insistence of leaders that we get married soon worked well for me because it meant I could leave Moscow. Professor Morozov and I will resume our studies together, away from the college that’s riddled with memories. But we won’t begin for another month, which means I get to spend time in America.

“I’m so glad you’re with me,” I tell my mother. “Mom, there’s been so much. . .” My voice catches. I will not cry. Not when I have to be the strong daughter of the Ivanovs. There are only us women now.

“The family will take good care of you,” my mom says, squeezing my hand. She’s right. So far, we’ve only met two of the Romanovs: Ekaterina, the Romanov matriarch, and her beautiful, blonde daughter, Polina, Nikko’s sister. She was the one who got stuck in the tree, I know it. Those late-night stories we shared with each other were real. I know that now, too.

I don’t have a way to get in touch with him, but I know he’s coming soon.

My mother and I are just about finished getting ready when there’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” my mother says.

A woman stands at the door. She’s beautiful with light brown hair that hangs all the way down her back in gentle beach waves, bright brown eyes, and a few freckles across her upturned nose.

“My name is Harper,” she says brightly. “I’m married to Aleksandr Romanov, Nikko’s older brother. I came here to speak with you if I could?”

I stand and shake her hand.

“I’m Vera.”

“So nice to meet you. You’ll get to know everyone soon. We have a large family, and now that some of us are having children, it’s only getting bigger,” she says with a little laugh. “My marriage to Aleksandr was also arranged. I know that our circumstances are very different, but I wanted to let you know that I know what it’s like to be in this position. And I know Nikko well. He’ll take good care of you.”

I nod. While I appreciate the sentiment, I don’t need her to tell me that.

“I’m here so I can offer to help get ready for the wedding, if that’s okay with you? I’m good at hair and makeup and things like that.”

I nod. “Yes, please. I would love that. I’m not a super fancy person. I just want something simple? I don’t even know if we have time. . .”

She waves her hand in the air. “We have connections. We’re friends with the Rossi family, and their sisters own a boutique. We can get you anything you want, and there’s plenty of time. I mean, you definitely have more time than I did.”

I remember Nikko talking about the women in his family. I think a lot of what he told me actually was based on his family.

“Wait, I heard about you guys. Aria is the cyber hacker, his sister is a nurse, and that means that you must be. . . like really skilled with a gun?”

She grins. “That’s me.”

“Wow,” I breathe. “And you just so happen to also know about makeup and look like you just stepped out of a magazine?”

“Okay, now! I love you, and we just met,” she says. “Now let’s take a look at this catalog I brought and pick out a nice expensive dress!”

We’re all laughing now. There’s another knock at the door, and Polina enters. She’s tall and willowy with beautiful blonde hair that’s almost white, and bright blue eyes that shine like stars in the night sky. It’s interesting to me that the Romanovs don’t really look like each other, but they’re a tight group. I can tell. I’m curious to see what Nikko is like with them.

“Polina, I have a question for you,” I say, biting my lip.

“Yes?” she says, smiling. “Oh, is that a bridal catalog? My favorite!” She gets excited like a little kid when she picks up the glossy pages.

“Was there a time when you were little and you climbed a tree and Nikko found you?”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe he told you that story,” she exclaims. “Though his reaction to that did solidify him as my favorite brother. Did he tell you about me?”

I smile. “Not that much. But that was a funny story.”

We flip through the bridal magazine, and I select the simplest yet most beautiful gown. It’s sleeveless and made of lace but still modest. I don’t want something overly sexy. The last time I wore something like that, things ended disastrously.

I chose a simple veil, as I suspect I’ll need it for the Russian Orthodox traditions that include wearing a gold crown at one point.

After we finalize wedding details, we go downstairs and join the rest of the family. I look around and there’s still no Nikko. My heart sinks.

“Your home is beautiful,” my mother says to Ekaterina. Like my mother, Ekaterina Romanov has silver hair and holds herself regally, like a queen, with laugh lines around her eyes and a warm, beautiful smile. She hugs me warmly and says in my ear, “I’m so sorry about the circumstances that brought you here, but I couldn’t be more thrilled to have another daughter. Welcome, Vera. I’ve heard so much about you, and I can’t wait to learn more.” She kisses both my cheeks, and I blink back tears. It feels like my emotions have been on edge for the past forty-eight hours, and I can hardly contain myself. Everything feels magnified by a thousand.

“Thank you,” I tell her. “While I wouldn’t have chosen this, I’m going to make the most of it. And I have to say, your son took very, very good care of me—even if he was pretending to be someone else.”

“I would expect nothing less from him,” she says. “He is loyal to the absolute core.” Then, with a twinkle in her eye, she adds, “Speaking of my son, I hear he’s about to arrive. My sons have decided to enact some of our old Russian traditions for old times’ sake. This is the first time in our family, you see, that a Russian is marrying another Russian.”

Oh, that’s right. Aria is American, and Harper is Italian-American, from what I’ve heard. This is the first time we have two Russian families, which means we have to pull out all the Russian tradition stops in superstition. “Now, maybe some brief introductions?” I look around at all of the people. I am so overwhelmed, but I try to remember what Harper said.

“Mom, we don’t have time,” Polina says. “Nikko’s at the door and we’re about to demand his ransom. He’s locked out.”

My mother squeezes my hand and smiles. “Oh God, that brings back so many fun memories,” she says.

He’s here.

Right outside the door.

My heart beats faster. I swallow the lump in my throat and hold my head high.

Russian tradition says that the groom has to pay a ransom, but in many cases, the ransom is completely different from what you’d expect. Something other than money or payment in order to gain access to his wife. And this all takes place before the wedding.

What will they demand from him?

Another knock sounds at the door, louder than the first.

If I’m to believe what they say… that’s my future husband.

My heart leaps in my throat, my pulse erratic and racing. I have missed him so much. I feel I can hardly breathe from the need to feel his strong arms around me again. To feel his hands in mine. To hear his deep, reassuring voice once more. We’ve been through so much. . .

I look around quickly to see who’s here.

The only woman I haven’t met yet is Aria. She has glasses perched on the edge of her nose and wild hair tucked into a bun at the nape of her neck, but some strands have escaped, curling around her face. She gives me a wink and stands by a man with golden skin who holds himself with authority. I’m assuming he’s her husband, Mikhail, the head of the family.

“Is that Nikko Romanov on the other side of the door?” Polina asks loudly to be heard through the doorway.

“It is,” he growls. Polina giggles.

“This is the first time in our generation a Russian is marrying a Russian, Nikko Romanov. Therefore, you must uphold all the Russian traditions.”

“Jesus,” we hear him curse on the other side of the door. Laughter ripples through the room.

“First, we demand a ransom. You’ve spent time with your future wife, a luxury many of us haven’t had. To earn your way in, you must answer our questions.”

“Well?” he responds.

Polina crosses her arms and winks at me. “How does she take her coffee?”

“Two creams, two sugars, no flavors. Hot and strong,” he replies.

“Hot, dark, and sweet, just like her men,” my mom whispers in my ear.

“Mom!” I say, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Polina glances at me for confirmation. I give her two thumbs up, feeling the heat on my face. “Ding, ding, ding!” she says. “First ransom paid. Now for the second question. What can you tell me about her hopes and dreams? Be specific, Mr. Romanov.”

“She dreams of working alongside Professor Morozov in Moscow. She wants to bring affordable healthcare to the masses, with a focus on medical science. She’d like to have four children, two dogs, and a home close enough to the city for easy shopping but far enough away to avoid traffic noise. She wants a front porch that overlooks the sunset.”

Even though we haven’t known each other for long, he has been remarkably attentive. In this brief period, we’ve shared moments of profound intimacy and unveiled our deepest secrets. I found myself compelled to trust him, thrust into a situation where I had no other option, and he rose to the occasion with unwavering support and understanding.

As he speaks, my vision blurs with unshed tears, a testament to the emotions swirling within me. The room around us seems to have fallen into a hushed silence, every eye fixed on this moment, amplifying the weight of his words. I swallow hard, attempting to ease the knot tightening in my throat, but the effort feels futile against the overwhelming surge of feelings.

I draw in a deep breath, hoping to steady myself, as he continues to speak, his voice a steady anchor in the emotional storm brewing around us.

“She’s a speed reader; she reads at least five times as fast as me but types so slowly because she uses just her index fingers. She has to dictate her thoughts because her mind races. She devours romance novels between reading academic literature as a form of stress relief. Last year, she read over two hundred romance books and is on track to break that record this year.”

Murmurs of approval and surprise spread through the room. I shrug. “Accurate,” I say. “Very accurate.”

“Her love languages are acts of service and words of affirmation. She loves it when people do things for her but needs a bit of praise now and then. She enjoys Diet Coke but hates onions. Her comfort food is grilled cheese. She did fine in Russia, but she’d give anything for sourdough bread and American cheese.”

I nod. “Also accurate.”

“She’s close with her mother, who is her best friend,” he continues. “She gets up early but stays up too late because she’s always reading and doesn’t get enough sleep. She can’t hold her liquor, and she loses herself in her studies. She needs someone to remind her to rest, eat, and take care of herself.”

Polina looks at me, her eyes shining. “How did he do?”

I dab my eyes, hoping they don’t notice that he’s brought me to tears. Nikko Romanov loves me. And he knows me. He’s going to give me all those things: the love languages, the grilled cheese, the home with kids and dogs and sunsets.

“I think he’s more than paid his ransom,” I say with a grin. “Can you let him in?”

They open the door, and he’s standing there, silhouetted against a sunset. My tall, serious man.

He looks at me like I’m the only person on the planet, with that intense gaze that makes everything else fade away.

He crosses the room to me, rests his hand on the side of my face, bends down, and kisses me in front of everyone.

The salt of my tears mingles with our kiss. The tightness in my chest loosens, and I feel like I can breathe again.

Life is complex. We make decisions that we don’t always have to justify. And sometimes, we make decisions that look like they are so wrong. But this—this is what love is. Forgiveness in the face of failing. Willingness to pick up the pieces. Understanding each other. Effort to come back together.

“Well done, son,” Ekaterina says. And I’m not sure if she’s praising him for answering all the questions correctly, for doing his job well, or maybe all of the above. He releases me and turns to her. “You’ve met my future wife?”

She nods.

He holds me to him and kisses my forehead. “Then you have met my world.”