The Billionaire Boss's Captive Bride

a

my wedd

I dreamt about my mother blinking away tears of joy when she saw me in a veil that floated down my back, the gossamer material caressing my bare shoulders. My best friend Ilsa

to be the happie

an staring back at me in the full-length mirror, se

, and as an actress, I prided myself on

stared back with other emotions

here. I was alone, and the only person who had once acco

was for

g for me to be released from the terrible fate that awaited me, and if I knew anyt

ane couldn’t move them. Outwardly I was the picture-perfect bride. No expenses had been spared. The und

ld have chosen, but it exuded the wealth

ection could hide the

e. And I was a captive

archetti Mafia, save a young Russian girl—Sveta Orlov—who had been ripped from her family at the expense of her maniacal father.

up. Sveta had been killed. Ilsa and Roman had been forced to tak

t would have be

so w

bout to mar

l Kir

ngerous and powerful. He had made me do terrible, shameful things in the short time that I knew

do…Oh God. I didn’t wa

was going t

based on what he said to me, based on what he had made me do, I knew th

f contacting anyone. My cell phone had been taken away when I was kidnapped from my apartme

son. But there was no way in

pages. Those showed a woman who enjoyed life, one who seemed

I wore was from thrift shops all around LA. I just knew which ones r

ces that everyone else wanted to go to. I had the gift

told me. My long blonde hair was just like any other girl in LA; my pale body helpe

because getting acting gigs

ilms that had paid enough for me to pay my rent in

that was my past. I had missed those appointments. And if anything,

s about to play the bigge

ad to do this. I had to make sure that no one believed me to be anyone else other than Svet

he had been thrust into. They knew me as a girl who spoke no English, and it

ctives in college or

church I had been brought to earlier was one I recognized, the Holy Transfiguration Russian Orthodox Church. It was one I had film

wooden doors, and my heart threatened to beat out o

me on? Doubtful. She would tell me that I was c

aring my vision once more. I wasn’t going to cry. Not today. I had already cried enough since I had

nd ornate carvings that were at the end of a long aisle. Surprisingly the wooden pews were packed with guests, all sta

ly here. I wante

tually cared about me waiti

emptiness and dread. I wanted to cry

wanted to remember. Not a waki

the music in the large sanctuary. No one spoke, no one whispered, as if they

rew in my stomach. He was there, waiting

be marrying a poor girl from a blue-collar family that could barely rub two coins

this, at least the biggest jok

scading down the steps behind me. Only then did I allow

ontrast to his tanned skin underneath. His dark brown hair was slicked back on his head, exposing his wide forehead and a set of high cheekbones dusted wit

g I saw staring back at me was inky coldness. The man before me wasn’t

n his body that could even u

way. She had given me their complete, sordid tale and how he had turned from a col

ing to that hope. This man was born and bred to

of a

his broad shoulders to the tapered waist and everything in between. As my eyes roamed over

I would never

, danger, and se

ments, he would

sband. Not Naomi Spencer’s husba

is throat, and Gavri

he said i

ght it was a useless elective years ago, and now, that usel

n his. His touch was warm, and I tried to foo

knew b

at ease. He’d made me do unspeakable things before this day. And the thought o

so he couldn’t see the indecision there behind my veil. I wasn’t very religious and had

he protocol. Each time, though, Gavril helped me ri

ing me without my consent. Any woman wo

aught as I stared at them, wondering why I thought he wouldn’t wear one. Gavril didn’t seem like the

f power for him. Little did he know that nothin

dead. Gavril wasn’t going to ge

the smaller circle. He took it and slid it onto my hand. The ring itself was simple and elegant.

family

n though it was light and airy, it felt like it weighed

re

sitated. There were so many other things I would have liked to do with the ring, and each one would have resulted in m

e ring on his finger, past his scarre

s hand cupped the back of my neck and pulled the vei

th, swallowing my small yelps of resistance. His rough hand pulled me closer, and I felt his

ess and

ath do

as

To use.

re

it. We we