Scandalous Prince (Mafia Royals 2)

“Oh, no, I’m not—”

“You are,” they said in unison.

“Now…” Sancto helped me out of the car. I turned around to see Nikolai staying inside. “Let’s get you settled. Don’t worry, he’ll be back for the ceremony. By the way, your dress is absolutely stunning. We had it flown in from Russia last night.”

“My dress?” Tears burned the back of my eyes when I realized I wouldn’t even get to do that, go dress shopping with my mom, invite my friends, not that I really had any outside of the Family, but still. “Th-thank you for doing that.”

He snapped his fingers, and one of the men in suits came running, grabbing my bags from the back before I could even say please or thank you.

“Shall we?” Sancto held out his arm.

I looped mine in his and let him walk me toward my future, all thoughts of my past burning in my brain.

Remember Breaker.

Remember him.

Not this new man.

Not this house.

Remember.

The doors opened.

And with dread, I watched as Sancto held his arms out wide and said, “Welcome home.”

I nearly passed out when a staff of twenty servants bowed in unison.

And when I looked up, a huge family portrait that had to be decades old was draped in gold in the main room.

It looked familiar.

The man in the picture.

Beneath it, in plated gold, it read, “The Petrov Dynasty.”

“You will continue that dynasty,” Sancto said with pride. “You will bear children under this name, and we’ll once again be proud to be Petrov.”

“You aren’t proud now?”

His eyes died a bit as he looked down, a muscle twitched in his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “We have much to atone for.”

“Like what?”

A clock chimed.

“No time.” His easy smile was back as he grabbed my arm again. “Let me show you your room; the stylists are already on their way!”

“Stylists?”

“Of course! Your ceremony is in four hours! Let’s go!”

He didn’t see the tear that escaped and dripped onto the first stair as he led me up, and he didn’t hear my heart scream for Breaker with each step I took away from him.

Nobody heard me.

Not even God.

The only thing I could do was put one foot in front of the other as I nodded when I was supposed to and smiled when it was expected.

I spent my whole life faking that smile.

I just never thought that I would have to use my dad’s political training on my wedding day—without him.

Without my cousins.

Without my dad walking me down the aisle, kissing me on the cheek, and threatening the man who put a ring on my finger within an inch of his life.

Missing all of these things didn’t just make my stomach hurt, it made me want to hurt whoever was causing this hurt.

But you can’t hurt destiny, can you?

Wrong place, wrong time.

That was what had gotten me here, counting each step to my bedroom as Sancto went on and on about the ball.

Wait, the ball?

“Sancto, back up. You said ball?”

He stopped and grinned down at me, all white teeth oozing confidence. “Of course, it’s tradition. At least we wanted to start one without so much bloodshed, and Valerian is appreciative of his Russian history. He wants to do an old-fashioned, traditional masquerade ball. It also helps that… well…” He looked away. “It’s not my story to tell but, know that it helps.”

“What does?”

He was silent and then. “A mask… sometimes a mask hides more on the inside than it does on the outside.” He cleared his throat. “And here we are!”

Finally.

“Finally!” He echoed my mental sentiment as he rubbed his tanned hands together. “Now, if you need me, I’ll be downstairs. I’m sending up champagne—” The doorbell rang so loud I almost covered my ears. “Oh, that’s them! Let’s get the bride ready!”

He left me standing in an ornate room with a full fireplace on one side, my own deck overlooking whatever lake we were next to, and a bed that could fit a harem.

I gripped my phone in my hand and squeezed. Maybe if I texted Breaker and squeezed hard enough, it would be like holding his hand, maybe if I closed my eyes and imagined his face, it would be his mouth that held mine.

“You broke me first,” I whispered into the crisp Seattle air.

Because he had.

And for some strange reason, I wanted the universe to know it.

I would have fought for us.

I would have clawed toward him, covered in my own blood, broken bones protruding from my body, voice gone because it had been screaming for him unceasingly until he came.

But one thing I learned about Breaker. His duty was everything, and he measured things by the worst-case scenario and the best. He must have thought this was the best, even though all I could see was the unhappy ending.

Disney truly had not prepared me for this.