Sanctum: A Dark Bratva Arranged Marriage Romance (Wicked Vows)
Sanctum: Chapter 17

I’VE NEVER FELT anything like this before.

Nikko stands beside me. A big guy covered in tats, he’s ruggedly handsome but more boy-next-door-meets-mobster next to Aleks. His large frame and menacing scowl would scare me if I wasn’t more experienced by now.

“I’ve never felt anything like this before,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I don’t know how to describe it.”

“I get it,” Aleks says beside me. “This is what I’m like when I’m breaking code. When I’m deep in the weeds, unraveling numbers and letters and breaking through.”

“State of flow,” Nikko says. “You’re in the state of flow. Can take people a long time to get there. We call it natural instincts.”

Aleks nod. “You’re fully focused. Everything else fades away. Time can slow down or speed up. You have absolute control over everything and know intuitively what will happen next. You can almost envision it.”

I stare at him, my eyes wide. How did he know that?

“I’ve never felt so in control in my life. It’s like I’m commanding the sun to set or the moon to rise. It’s like…like…”

“Waving a magic wand,” Aleks says. “I get it.”

“Aleks! Nikko! Harper! Are you guys coming or what?” Polina’s a little dot by the front door.

I glance at my phone, shocked to see hours have passed. It’s lunchtime, and his family’s due to arrive any minute.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s this late already. I need to change, fix my hair, and see to Ivy.”

I spin around, looking for a place to put the gun down when both Nikko and Aleks flinch. “Harper.” I wince at the sharp sound of Aleks’s voice.

“What?”

“Freeze. Stay right there.” He puts his hands out as if he’s trying to stop someone from jumping off a bridge.

I look down to see the gun in my hand pointed straight at him.

“Relax, I’m not going to shoot you,” I say with a laugh as I drop my arm.

Nikko grimaces and Aleks puts his hands on his hips. “You’ve already forgotten the gun safety we went over when we started. That doesn’t come naturally to anyone, woman.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Don’t mansplain to me, Aleks.” Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

His gaze snaps to mine, his jaw tight. “Sass me again in front of my brother,” he says in a low growl. “See how that works out for you.”

A lick of heat curls up my neck and spreads across my chest. I swallow and turn away from him so the gun’s pointed at the dense woods when I snap the safety in position and slide the gun back in the metal box it came in.

I feel a sense of loss when I’m not holding it anymore.

“You look like someone just died,” he says. When I don’t contradict him, his voice gentles and he takes a step closer to me. “I’ll get you a holster, baby. Sexiest little fucking thing you’ve ever seen, I promise. Wait until you see the custom kits you can get.”

Nikko folds his arms on his chest. “Need to see how good she is with other weapons, Aleks. Someone this good with a gun, good chance she’s skilled with a knife, too. You ever used a knife, Harper?”

“To cut my chicken? Yeah. As a weapon? No.”

The guys exchange a look I don’t quite understand.

“We’ll talk about it over lunch.”

My steps feel lighter, my heart soaring as we head back to the house, my sexy husband beside me, my daughter waiting for me, and a newfound skill I never knew I had within me. I can’t wait to get back out there again.

My lighthearted steps come to a halt when I get to the front door. Voices — lots of voices — drift out from inside the house, and some of them are woefully too familiar.

I swivel my gaze to Aleks. “You didn’t tell me my family was coming.”

The way his brows snap together in a scowl, he didn’t know either. “Who invited her family?”

Polina sits at the kitchen table with my little Ivy. Ivy’s swinging her legs and coloring in a little coloring book. Next to her is a huge stuffed teddy bear, a rainbow-colored sippy cup, and a lollipop the size of her head.

“Jesus, Polina.” Aleks seems momentarily at a loss for words.

“What? My first niece, I’m going to spoil her, don’t you dare try to stop me. And don’t ask me, I have no idea who invited them, but it wasn’t me.”

I stare at Aleks. “I’m not ready for them to see Ivy,” I whisper. My stomach is in knots.

Aleks has that look he gets sometimes that scares me a little, the haunted glare that tells me he’d do anything if he felt he was justified.

Anything.

“Someone invited them.”

“Invited who?” Aleks’s mother walks into the kitchen, her silvery hair in an elegant up-do. She’s the picture of class and grace.

“Her family,” Aleks says. “This was supposed to be just us.”

His mother looks pained. “You said to invite family and I misunderstood.”

Aleks sighs. “I did say that. I can see how that might be confusing.”

Even though I’m nervous and high-strung, my heart melts a little. My father would’ve been breaking things by now.

“Harper, I’m so sorry,” his mother says. “I feel terrible. Please forgive me.”

“Of course.”

Ekaterina grasps my hand and speaks in a low voice. “Do they know about Ivy? She’s a delight, Harper. I adore her.” My heart melts a little.

I shake my head. “No, they don’t. But it’s fine.”

Ivy sings in a little voice, swinging her legs from side to side. I look up at Aleks who finally nods. “Listen, this wasn’t part of the plan, but we’re not going to hide Ivy or who we are, Harper. Not now, not ever. You get me?”

I swallow and nod. “Of course.”

“We’ll be out in a minute,” he tells his mother. “Maybe serve some wine.”

“Of course. I know. Don’t worry,” she says with a wink. “I’ve got this.”

“Mama,” Ivy coos. She waves to me from the table and points to the coloring book.

“It’s beautiful,” I tell her.

She’s trusting me. Hopeful. She doesn’t know that there are people in the other room that hate me and won’t want anything to do with her. All she knows is that I’m Mama.

Maybe that’s all that matters.

I remember how it felt to stand out there with the gun in my hand, knowing with certainty that I’d hit every damn target I aimed at.

I can do this.

They don’t have a hold on me anymore. The only two people that do are right here in this room with me, and their holds on me are the type I’m not sure I want to ever let go.

“Let’s go,” Aleks says. I walk over to the kitchen table and, after admiring Ivy’s picture, help her out of her chair and take her hand.

“I wish I had time to freshen up.”

His gaze gentles when he looks down at me holding Ivy’s hand. “Come here,” he whispers, leaning over to run his fingers through my hair. “There. Your hair looks gorgeous, all wavy and sexy.” He bends down and kisses my cheek. “And you don’t need makeup. I love that natural flush on your cheeks.” His mouth comes to my ear. “You know who you belong to, Harper Romanov, don’t you? You’re my wife. You belong to no one else.”

I nod. Take a deep breath. Square my shoulders.

The three of us walk into the dining room hand in hand.

My brother hasn’t come, only my parents. My father looks from me to Aleks with a scowl that would’ve made old me cower. I smile at him instead, a vivid reminder that he can’t hold me back anymore.

My mother stares, her mouth slightly parted as she looks from me to Ivy then back again.

“And who is this?” my father asks, his gaze wary as if he suspects.

“So nice to see you again,” Aleks says, extending his hand to my father. He acts as if my father didn’t ask a question at all.

It feels like Aleks’s whole family is here, even though a quick count tells me we’re missing at least two of the Romanovs. It’s a large family, though, so much bigger than what I grew up with.

Polina sits beside her mother. Ekaterina smiles at everyone, though her mouth is tense. Nikko takes a seat across from a hulking, heavily tattooed man with a rugged charm and black leather jacket: Viktor. Beside him sits a man with graying hair and wise eyes, and next to him, a young man with visible bruising on his chin and his arm in a cast – Lev.

“Ollie couldn’t join us, as he’s traveling,” Ekaterina explains. “And my eldest son Mikhail expresses his regrets, but he and his wife just had a baby. He won’t be joining us either. Wine? This is a wedding gift from our friends the Rossis,” she says, and I wonder, is it my imagination or is she testing the waters? My family hates the Rossis.

“Friends with the Rossis,” my father mutters. “No one mentioned that.”

Aleksandr pours my father a glass of wine. “No one asked. Our conversation was brief. Do you not get along?”

“Get along?” my father snaps. I know what he’s like when that vein throbs in his temple. “They’ve overtaken all of Tuscany with their wine. And none of them would take me up on my offer of Harper.”

I stare. I can’t believe he just said that out loud, that he tried to pawn me off on the Rossis and they declined.

A muscle ticks in Aleks’s jaw. Ekaterina stares and Polina’s cheeks flush pink. Recovering, I lift my own wineglass and give Aleks a grin. “Fill ‘er up, husband,” I say loud enough for my parents to hear. Husband. That’s right. HUSBAND. “The truth is, the only reason the Rossis declined was because I was twelve years old at the time, wasn’t I? And they’ve all been married since. Even in Italy, they don’t marry children, do they?”

Ekaterina’s expression grows even more incredulous, if that’s possible. “Younger than in America sometimes, but no, they don’t.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten married that young,” my mother says, her cheeks flushing. “We were only trying to make an arrangement.”

“I’m glad that fell through,” Aleks says. “My win. I’ll have to remind the Rossis about that the next time I visit Boston. Have you met Ivy?”

I nearly spit out my wine.

“Ivy?” My mother asks, paling.

“That’s me,” Ivy says, reaching for a glass of milk I poured for her.

“Ivy, careful—” I warn, but I’m too late. Her little hand knocks the glass over into the glass of wine beside it, sending the liquid in it soaring straight into my mother’s lap. She leaps to her feet with a screech. Aleks has the audacity to snort, but poor Ivy looks like she’s about to burst into tears.

“It’s alright,” I tell her gently. “Accidents happen. You didn’t mean to.”

I reach for a napkin and mop up the milk.

“Leave it,” Aleks says. “Staff will get it. Is she alright?”

Oh God, he’s looking at Ivy with concern. If he starts to care for this little one, I’m going to fall head over heels in love with him. I’m already halfway there.

I nod, but he leans in close to her anyway. “It’s alright. Mama’s right. We don’t cry over spilt milk here.” He winks at me. “Maybe vodka…”

My father stiffens.

Ekaterina ushers my mother away from the table, promising to help her clean up.

Nikko grins at me. “Roll?” he asks, his eyes twinkling. We have a secret, just between the three of us. I can’t fucking wait to get back to that gun. If only my father knew.

“This is your daughter?” my father asks, his eyes boring into mine.

“She is,” I say proudly, my chin lifted high.

“It’s a shame you didn’t tell me before negotiations what Harper brought to the table,” Aleks says. He takes a platter of sliced chicken and puts a piece on our plates before serving himself, then handing it to his brothers. “The Romanov family is in dire need of expansion. Harper has a child.”

“What’d Mikhail say to that?” Viktor asks, passing a large bowl of salad around the table.

“Jealous,” Aleks says with a grin. My father shakes his head, confused and obviously furious, but doesn’t respond.

Despite my resolve, I feel the weight of my father’s disapproving glare. It’s been too long. I’ve been on the receiving end of his vicious temper too many times and need more distance than I’ve had thus far. The silent indictment of my choices burns me.

“It’s a pity,” he says, helping himself to another glass of wine. “In our family, we uphold the sanctity of marriage. We discourage those who bring children into the world without a proper family in place.”

The table falls silent. I can’t believe he dared to bring his hatred and prejudice here and display them, right in front of my husband and his family. My cheeks flush with anger and embarrassment. I look down at Ivy, who’s thankfully unaware she’s the subject as she happily munches a buttered roll.

Aleks places his fork down and leans on the table. I open my mouth to say something, to protest, but he gives a gentle shake of his head. He’s right — anything I say my father will dismiss. Addressing him needs to come from Aleks.

“A proper family,” Aleks says calmly, even as his eyes burn with fire, “is not defined by societal approval and most definitely not by you. It’s built on love, respect, and the courage to stand by each other no matter what.”

My father’s eyes narrow on him. “Well said for someone who heads a mongrel family. We all know who you are and how your father piecemealed street orphans together to structure his ‘family.’”

Aleksandr’s eyes narrow right back at my father. “You’ll leave my late father out of this. Harper has shown more strength and integrity than those I’ve met who hide behind the facade of tradition. She is not alone, and I stand by her and her child unquestioningly.”

My father sputters, his cheeks flushed with rage, as Ekaterina and my mother enter the room again. I feel sick to my stomach.

Aleks, however, placidly goes back to his meal and begins to cut his chicken. “Now would be a good time for you to go. The only reason I’ve given you any leeway at all is because you’re an old man.” He spears my father with a look. “No one talks about my wife that way. Old man or not, if you ever disrespect her again, you’ll answer to me.”

My heart swells with gratitude, love, and newfound strength. His declaration in the face of my father’s judgment means more to me than he can ever know.

“We’re leaving,” my father sputters, as if it’s his idea, and gets to his feet. My mother, dressed in too-tight clothes because she’s obviously several sizes larger than Ekaterina, only stares.

I hate her in this moment. I hate her for never standing up for me. I hate her for never defending me or making anything in my life easier. I hate her for staying with my father when he abused me and used me and for her own complicit part in all of this.

My hands shake when I cut up Ivy’s chicken. Aleks’s hand covers mine.

He speaks in a voice meant only for my ears. “A woman who holds a gun like it was carved into her hand can control the shaking with effort,” he says quietly. “Let it go.”

I remember the way the gun felt in my hand.

The shaking steadies.

Aleks raises his voice. “Viktor, why don’t you escort them out.”

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