Reckless Heir (Underworld Kings)

Although most of my skin was covered so it was still modest and showed my innocence, it also would let everyone know I was a woman now, with a womanly body that only my husband would ever get to enjoy.

Those thoughts had my belly clenching.

It was a gorgeous dress even if I didn’t pick it out, even if I didn’t have a choice. In any of this. But what difference did it make? It’s not like I’d be wearing it for more than a day anyway, the material probably ripped off my body by Nikolai as soon as we made it into the hotel because he was a beast.

I closed my eyes and breathed as that thought conjured up a hundred different images of what would happen on my wedding night. I wasn’t stupid enough to think Nikolai would take his time with me, that he’d be gentle, that he’d make love to me. I was sure he wasn’t a virgin and experienced. He’d probably pleased more women than I’d be able to comprehend.

For the past three weeks I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Nikolai, about our inappropriate, impromptu alcove meeting where he touched me, where we’d shared that forbidden act. I could still smell his cologne, had even shamelessly thought about touching myself when I was alone in bed at night to the memory of how dark and spicy it had been, how it wrapped around me.

I’d pictured his big body hovering over mine, and imagined how it would feel to have his body heat pouring off his naked, muscular form and seeping into me, surrounding me.

When I blinked back to the present and stared at my reflection, I noted my pinked cheeks, my dilated pupils. I was aroused. And all from a thought of that Russian beast.

I lifted my hands and smoothed them down my flat belly, along my curved waist, and stopped right under my small breasts. My focus was trained on my left hand, at my bare ring finger that soon would be bound with gold and a diamond. I didn’t even know what my ring was going to look like, didn’t know anything about my future husband aside from the basics that I had found myself.

My father certainly hadn’t given me any kind of background. But because Nikolai was in the Bratva I knew he was probably even worse than the men I’d known my entire life. I’d seen the cold calculation in his bright blue eyes, as if his mind had been working out every possible scenario and outcome of a situation.

A knock on the dressing room door drew me from my thoughts. Before I could tell them to enter the door was being pushed open. I felt surprise fill me when it was Francesca who entered, her gaze raking up and down me. Surprisingly enough there was appreciation in her expression.

“Not bad,” she said almost dismissively and I bit my tongue in a retort.

It wasn’t that I was weak or couldn’t stand up for myself. I just knew I had to pick my battles, and the only thing I’d accomplish going head-to-head with Francesca was severe annoyance.

I just didn’t have the energy to deal with her and everything else going on in my life. If she wanted to think she was better than me or everyone else, that was the energy she would have to put out.

She stood there looking me up and down for a second before she took a seat on the padded chair in the corner of the room. For long moments neither of us said anything and I was hoping someone would interrupt the awkward silence that descended in the dressing room

“Are you nervous?” she asked and I looked back at my reflection.

Francesca sounded pleasant enough, and dare I even say, genuinely curious. But I knew where her thoughts were going right now.

She was my age and her father would be marrying her off in the same way in the very near future.

I watched as she lowered her gaze to the ground and saw how she picked at the hem of her dress almost nervously. She was scared because as she looked at me I knew what she saw.

Her future.

Francesca was a bitch, a mega one, and a small part of me wanted to feel sympathy for her. Because if we were in opposite places right now all I’d be able to think about was when it would be my time to stand in front of this mirror as I looked at myself wearing my wedding dress.

Of course I didn’t even have to think about her question or the answer. I’d been thinking about all the things regarding this wedding for almost a month now.

I licked my lips and continued to stare at myself in the mirror, smoothing my hands down the dress, letting my fingers trail over the lace detailing. “I’m terrified,” I whispered so softly I wasn’t sure she heard me.

“I can’t think of anything worse than marrying someone you don’t love.”

I furrowed my brow at her tone. She sounded like she was speaking from experience. But surely that wasn’t the case since she wasn’t married off yet. She’d be locked away, keeping that precious virginity intact until her father could use her as a pawn.

Francesca’s expression morphed into irritation the longer I watched her. There is the girl I knew so well. So cold and hateful. She would probably be a better match for Nikolai.

And when she smirked I forced myself to break eye contact with her, knowing she was about to go to her default and be cruel.

“Are you ready for your wedding night?”

I didn’t bother answering, just kept smoothing my hands down my dress.

“I don’t think anyone is ready for their wedding night, especially not when you’re getting married to a killer.”

I swallowed roughly and her blunt, coarse words. Of course I knew this to be fact, but I felt irritation fill me. I looked at her then and she must have seen something in my expression because her body visibly tensed.