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

The next few days pass without incident. Though we’re only at the very beginning stages of what we’ve discovered, it’s monumental.

I have to admit that’s all in the periphery of my focus, though. I came here to focus on my studies, but the prevailing concerns about me and Markov have taken precedence.

“You look troubled.”

It’s Friday night, the day before the benefit, and Markov is kneeling beside me, doing what’s become routine for us: braiding my hair. He does it every night before bed. I’m loathe to admit that I don’t actually need him to braid my hair. It doesn’t tangle much when I sleep and is easy to fix in the morning. What I need, though, is the feel of his strong, masculine fingers on my scalp. The slight tug when he gives it an inevitable tweak.

I won’t lie. . . I’m nervous as hell about tomorrow.

“You’re as skittish as a little kitten, Vera,” Markov says, bending to kiss my shoulder before tweaking my braid. My God, I love all of it. The intimacy of this moment, the warm feel of his mouth on my bare skin. The solid wall of his presence behind me. The way my name sounds on his lips. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Oh, you know,” I say with a sigh. “The benefit and all. I’m just nervous about my father. Even if you and I didn’t have this. . . going on between us. . . I’d still be nervous.”

Markov turns me around to face him and frames my face with his hands.

This. This is what I love.

My eyes water as I peer into his intense gaze and see a well of love he hasn’t even yet voiced to me.

“Vera Ivanova,” he says earnestly. “You said it yourself that this will work out. We have to take this one step at a time. For now, you need rest.” When he bends and kisses me, I can almost believe it will be as simple as that—trust, love, and a kiss that makes it all better.

With a sigh, I crawl into bed. “That’s right, baby girl,” he whispers in my ear as he spoons me from behind. His warm body wraps around mine. “Put your mind to rest and get some sleep.”

But I can’t. Soon, Markov is breathing more deeply behind me while my mind spins and spins. I can’t get my fears out of my mind.

I make a decision. I push out of bed and walk over to where my phone is plugged in. I look over and Markov is still asleep.

I call Mom.

“Vera! How are you, darling?”

“I’m good, Mom. A little nervous about that stupid benefit, but it will be fine. There’s. . .” my heart beats so quickly that I’m a little shaky, “something I have to ask you.”

“Mmm? What is it?”

I draw in a breath and let it out slowly, gathering my courage. “Do you love Dad anymore?”

There’s silence on the other end of the line before she answers. “What makes you ask, Vera?”

“I—I just need to know. Please,” I whisper.

“Sweetheart, your father and I never loved each other to begin with. Our marriage was one of convenience, not love. And while others in that arrangement have learned to love one another despite the difficulties they faced. . . that was never us. I could not love a man who was self-serving and unfaithful. And while I’ll give credit where credit is due—your father’s taken good financial care of us and allowed me to raise you the way I saw fit—no, Vera. I do not love your father and never have.”

I nod. That will make what I have to do so much easier.

“Thank you, Mom. I love you.”

“Are you alright?”

No, I’m not alright. I’m in love with a man who’s forbidden for me, and I have no idea if he feels the same way. How will I navigate this without both of us being destroyed?

“I’m fine,” I tell her. I don’t ever remember lying to my mother before.

I hang up the call and immediately place a second. My father answers after five rings.

“Vera! What a pleasant surprise. I didn’t expect your call.” Of course he didn’t expect my call. I have never, ever called my father. I hear the sounds of clinking glasses, music, and laughter behind him. He’s partying, as usual.

“Father, we have to talk before tomorrow’s event.”

I feel Markov’s eyes on me. I’m not sure at what point he woke up.

“Ah, good, your mother’s told you I requested your presence then.”

“She did. I’ll be there. Can we talk, though?”

“Of course, Vera. Anything for my daughter,” he says too loudly, likely making sure that whoever he’s with hears him.

Gag me.

“I want you to know that you don’t have to hide. . . whoever it is that you’re seeing.” It pains me to say it, but I press on. “I’ve been thinking about it. I know that officially, you and Mom are still married, and I. . . while I’m thankful that you’ve respected me enough to keep her distanced from me, it’s alright if she’s with you tomorrow.”

My father doesn’t speak for a moment. “This is a big step, Vera. I’m honestly taken a bit aback by your selflessness.”

Well, that hurts, but he’s done worse. Also, it isn’t selfless.

“It’s just that. . . I want you to know that I know sometimes situations aren’t perfect. Sometimes, people fall in love with someone they shouldn’t, and it’s important to give each other grace. Don’t you agree?”

My cheeks are too hot, my heartbeat too fast when I say it in a rush of words. My father, however, is quick to agree.

“Yes, of course. Very wise of you, Vera. Very wise indeed. Thank you for that. She won’t be attending tomorrow because she has a prior engagement, but thank you for this.”

I nod. “I understand.”

“Now, I must get back to my friends here, but I look forward to seeing you.”

We disconnect the call. I plug my phone in and place it back on the desk before I look up at Markov. He stares at me in the darkness. Immobile.

“Don’t be angry with me,” I begin. “I—I needed to take a preemptive step.”

We don’t speak for a few long moments.

“That was very brave of you,” he finally says. “Very brave. Thank you, Vera. You inspire me.”

I cross the room to him and crawl under the sheets. He lifts the blanket and welcomes me closer. I snuggle up to his chest and allow myself this guilty pleasure. Being safe and secure in the arms of the man I love yet can never have.

I want to protect him. I want to protect us.

“Is my aunt coming?” he asks. It surprises me because I didn’t expect he’d want to see her.

“No, unfortunately, she won’t be able to attend.”

I don’t know if I imagine it, but he seems to relax a little.

“Ah. Now that you’ve gotten that behind you, get some sleep, baby girl.” He helps me roll over and gives me a firm smack to the ass.

I close my eyes and relish this moment, and finally, I fall asleep. I dream of dark forests, hidden places, and long tunnels that never, ever end.

The next day passes quickly with our early morning run and leisurely coffee downtown. Markov seems to be on his phone more than usual, which is a bit unnerving, but when I press, he admits he’s going over security for tonight. Fair enough.

Soon, it’s time to get ready. I was planning on wearing the same dress I wore for dinner out with my dad, but Sophia told me she has a dress with her that I can borrow. She’s smaller than I am, so the little red dress is so tight on me I can’t fit a bra on underneath. It hugs every curve and makes my breasts somehow look bigger, and at first, I’m not sure it’s decent. . . then Markov’s reaction when he sees me is absolutely worth it.

“Where the fuck did you get that?” he says with a growl as he prowls my way.

“Oh, this little thing?” I ask, tossing my hair. It sticks to my lip gloss, and I nearly stumble on my heel. This is why I’ll never be a model.

“Vera,” he says warningly. “Where the fuck did you get that thing?”

“From Sophia!” I protest.“It’s her dress, not mine.”

“But you’re wearing it,” he says. When he reaches for me, he wraps his hand over my throat and gently pushes me against the wall. His body presses up against mine, caging me in.

“You may wear that dress, baby girl,” he whispers in my ear, his fingers tightening. My pulse spikes at the feel of his heavy hand on my naked skin, right at my pulse. “Under one condition.”

“Mmm? What’s that?” I ask in a throaty whisper, a bit afraid of what that condition might be.

With firm movements, he yanks the dress up to my belly and tears my thong right off me. It’s a thin, lacy little thing that fairly crumples in his grip. “There,” he whispers, lifting my panties to his nose. He inhales.

“Markov!” I say in a strangled gasp.

His eyes closed as he inhales the scent of my arousal.

“These are mine now.”

My cheeks burn as he pockets my panties. It feels all kinds of wrong to be going to this benefit with no bra or panties, in a dress that hugs my curves, but the possessive look in his eyes makes it worth it.

“Turn around and place your hands on that wall.”

Obediently, I do what he says. I won’t disobey him, not now. I can’t. At this point, every fiber of my being purrs at his command.

I brace myself at the clink of a belt buckle behind me. “Let’s remind who you belong to out there dressed like this.”

I close my eyes and hear him tuck the buckle in his palm right before he swings the looped leather across my ass. I hiss in a breath as the searing pain blossoms into arousal. A second lash, followed by another, has me up on my toes as he whispers, “You’ll wear these stripes when you go there. You’ll feel the marks of my belt.”

Bending down, he bites my ass cheek. I squeal, but the firm clap of his hand across my ass makes me squeeze my lips together.

“And if at any point we get separated, remember who you belong to, wife.”

“Mmm,” I agree. “And if at any point we get separated, you take those panties out and remember who you belong to.”

I grin at the deep sound of his pleased chuckle when his phone beeps.

“Our ride is here.”

We’re quiet on the ride over. I’m sitting right up close to him, still hot as hell after his display.

I hope we can handle this like we handled dinner. Arrive, do our duty, take off. No harm done.

“Ugh,” I say, shaking my head when the car comes to a stop. “We’re jumping straight into the fire.”

My father stands at the entrance while other couples enter, dressed impeccably and surrounded by his guards.

Markov’s heavy hand rests at the small of my back. “You’ll do fine, baby.” He kisses my cheek. I squeeze his hand and take a deep breath.

I am not letting this man go.

No matter what.

My father stares when Markov and I exit the vehicle, looking me over with scrutiny. “Vera,” he says, kissing my cheek. “Did your mother pick that dress? Markov, I’d like you to join us. There’s no need for you to keep your distance.”

I stiffen, but Markov moves right in with stride, reaching for my father’s hand and shaking it firmly. “I told her she looks beautiful,” he says with a smile. “Did you hear about what she did this week? Their amazing discovery will be posted in every medical journal from here to America. Let’s go in, and Vera can tell you all about it.”

I give him a small smile in return.

Though my father’s far from interested in me discussing what I did this week, he’s impressed that the work will garner attention from powerful people.

“Excellent,” he says as he turns his back to me. “Let’s get a drink. Oh, and I have a surprise for you, Markov.”

Markov and I share a look. There can’t be any good that comes from starting a conversation like that. When we reach the bar, he lifts a large bottle of Beluga Gold Line, a premium vodka. Even implacable Markov looks impressed. “Excellent,” he says approvingly. “Thank you.”

We make small talk, and Markov helps me navigate it all with perfect ease. He remains somewhat aloof, maintaining his position as a bodyguard while interjecting praise when my father makes rude or dismissive comments. My father probably never imagined that the guard he hired would protect me from him.

“Excuse me,” I say at one point, ready for a break from him. “I need to use the ladies’ room.”

“Of course.” My father points in the general direction of where to go. Markov steps beside me. “I’ll accompany her. Anything I can get you on my return, sir?”

“Nothing, thank you, Markov.”

“My God,” I whisper to Markov as we walk toward the restrooms. “He’s insufferable. How can you handle it?”

He shrugs. “I pretend people like him are overgrown children in need of a nap.” When I laugh, he smiles back. “It really helps.”

I snort. “I bet.”

The darkened hallway is vacant when I return. Markov stands in the shadows. It’s risky, the two of us being alone. Close like this. He leans in and whispers in my ear, “Do you still feel my stripes, Vera?”

“Mmmm,” I whisper in his. “Do you still feel my panties in your pocket?”

Markov stifles a groan and squeezes my ass.

“Don’t!” I hiss. “Please.”

“Fair enough. But when we get back to our room, you’re mine, Vera.”

“Can we go now?”

“Almost.”

My father isn’t where we left him.

“That’s strange. Where did he go?” I ask Markov. My heart begins to race. If he was outside that restroom and I didn’t see him. . . if he followed us. . . .

“There,” Markov says. “Over by the exit.”

“Markov! Vera.”

“Father, we’re going to head back now. I’m just so tired.”

“You do have to stay one more minute,” he says. “Do you remember our conversation last night?”

“Mmm. I do.”

“I’ve thought about what you said, and I—I’d like you to come to my room and have a drink.”

Markov goes stiff beside my father. I suddenly feel the need to run, and I’m not sure why.

“Maybe another time,” I tell my father, shaking my head.

“Come now. Come back to the hotel room with me. We’ll have a drink,” my father says. “Please. The suite is big enough for all of us.”

All of us? Not including his guards, there are only three of us. And those guards will be stationed outside.

“Vera said she’d rather go home,” Markov says. “But thank you for the invitation, sir.”

My father’s gaze grows stony. “I paid for that ride you took over here. Your plane flight here.” He jerks his chin at Markov. “His salary. The least you could do is say thank you and come with me. You should know better as one of my paid men, Markov.”