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“You’re marrying Dmitry Nikolaev, the newly-crowned don of the Nikolaev Bratva,”
Everything has changed now. Father is gone. That means Gavriil has been promoted to my underboss. Bastien is chief brigadier, the head enforcer. And I am now the don of the Nikolaev Bratva.
“I need a wife. You were the prize that was promised to me.”
“Do you take Shannon McNulty as your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until death do you part?”
So, in front of God and the priest and the law and all the assembled mafiosos of New York City, I blurt out, “I absolutely fucking don’t.”
“That’s my good little girl.”
“You’re mine,” he growls as the last waves wash through me. “And you’ll do what I say.”
“I’m going to say that I didn’t plan this. But I will do everything in my power to make your life a good one. I meant what I said earlier tonight, Shannon: as long as I’m alive, no other man will ever touch you. I will keep you safe. I will keep you happy. I swear it.”
“You make me happy, Shannon McNulty.”
They didn’t want anything to do with a daughter who would be a Bratva wife.”
