Fair enough. It’ll take some time for her to trust me. Not the best way to start off our marriage, and had I known what was ahead, I’d have left her on the street that day. But I didn’t, and here we are.
I smirk. “Like I said, I’m reasonable. Unless you get on my bad side.”
Before she can answer, the insistent knock of someone at the door interrupts us. I can’t imagine any of our crew would be stupid enough to intrude like this, so I’m reasonably sure I already know who it is.
“Occupied,” I call out anyway, just to goad thestronzo.
“Where is Katya?” asks an accented voice on the other side.
Sidorov, just like I thought.
“Katya, hmm?” I drawl, holding her gaze as I try out the new name. “Doesn’t have the same ring as hellcat, but I guess it’ll have to do.”
“My friends and family call me that,” she says coolly.
I smirk harder. “Excellent news, because as of tomorrow, I’ll be both to you.”
The doorknob jiggles violently.
I sigh and stalk across the small office, flick the lock, and open the door. “Patience, Sidorov. Don’t you Russians know the phrase good things come to those who wait?”
Sidorov flicks a glance over my shoulder to where his sister stands, like he’s checking her for injuries, before he returns his glare to me. “Paws off, Andriani. I’m not going to allow you to disrespect my sister the day before the wedding.”
Who the fuck does he think he is, talking to me like that?
“Let’s get something straight between us, Sidorov. You don’t allow me to do anything. Especially not in my territory, in my restaurant, with my fucking wife.”
His lip curls. “She’s not your wife yet.”
“But she will be, thanks to you,” I remind him. “Tomorrow.”
Then I push past the bastard and walk back into the banquet hall like my world isn’t about to spectacularly implode in less than twenty-four hours.
Chapter 12
KATYA
The woman staring back at me is a stranger.
I don’t typically wear makeup unless I’m onstage, and I never do my hair beyond ballet buns. So seeing myself this way is a shock. I’ve been in hair and makeup for the last hour, and I’ve been transformed.
Too bad the occasion is as somber as a funeral.
The makeup artist meticulously applied false eyelashes and gave me a natural eye palette and dewy pink lip with just a hint of blush kissing my cheekbones. The hair stylist worked my hair into loose curls that fall down my back, threading a few white roses through it to complement my veil.
“What do you think?” Teresa, the hair stylist, asks with a hopeful air as she finishes applying hold spray.
I think that it’s my wedding day, and I’m about to be married to my kidnapper, which is as messed up as it gets.
I think my life is about to change, and I’m terrified of what being married to a man like Scorpion will bring.
But I can’t say any of that. Teresa is part of thefamiglia, and I don’t trust her any more than I do the swarm of people whohave been surrounding me from the moment I arrived at Priest Andriani’s compound this morning.
I force a smile instead. “You did a wonderful job. Thank you so much.”
“It wasn’t difficult. Your hair is gorgeous. I’d kill for it.”
Teresa sends me a friendly grin, but I’m not sure if she’s kidding about the last part of her statement or if she’s serious. Misha is a dangerous man and the Bratva are powerful and terrifying, but I know firsthand that the Andrianis are every bit as lethal and ruthless.