Twisted Marriage

01

Alessandra Capello
"I can't believe you're getting married!" Alessia grins, excitedly kicking her feet, I blink at her as I take another sip of my coffee.

Raising a questioning eyebrow, "Okay, I can't believe who you're getting married to." She clarifies as she takes a sip out of her colorful drink that's been catching my eyes lately.

"I want a sip." I motion nonchalantly at said drink and she suppresses a roll of her eyes before placing it in my hand, her blonde hair winding in the air around her head.

"Disgusting." I state when a sugar rush engulfs my taste buds, my lips twisting to the side, she wiggles her eyebrows at me before continuing her earlier conversation, "Are you not surprised?" She asks moments later, back to sipping at her drink.

I let her question register in my mind, straightening as I feel my muscles tensing more than ever, "Shocked." I state, not sarcastically, but genuinely. Marrying the heir of one of the most important men in the Russian mafia wasn't on my bucket list.

Rio volkov. The son of the strategist of the bratva they call him. He's an enemy.

Who'll soon be my husband, who I'm also waiting for right now as my sister lean into me, comforting me, knowing that I need that comfort.

I check my watch again, thirty minutes late, if the motherfucker is so calculated as they say then he's already failed this marriage, I clutch my hand with my sister's.

Staring right into her identical eyes, they're brown, the same shade as mine, a lot say we look alike and sometimes I can see it, but right now, while she's smiling, she looks younger than me, the two- year age gap making an appearance.

"Are you scared?" She asks. Her tone full of concern,
"I don't know, slightly." Yeah, I definitely am.

We only met once, and well, he wasn't so lovely, which shouldn't surprise me, but I just don't know, my stomach keeps flipping, my gut feeling is overwhelming.

Because I'm not a pessimistic person.
But being optimistic at the moment sounded like stupidity.

"Finally, he's here." Alessia says under her breath and I gulp the last bit of my black coffee that abruptly turns a lot more bitter, I take my fiancé in as he approaches us.

Rio volkov is every part the dirty man he's rumored to be, he walks like it, dresses like it, talks like it as well, he's wearing a black leather jacket, black pants, and a white shirt, his hair is styled, a perfect mess of thick black strands on top of his head.

And his eyes are blue, so blue that I want to inspect them closer on, but even that sounds creepy, and I soon realize what I'm doing, distracting myself from this manly aura he has clouding him because it's suffocating.

He stands right on the other side of the table, his tall frame towering over both my sister and I, his eyebrow raised as complete arrogance takes over his expression.

And while my thoughts are absolutely scattered, over the years, living in a world that viewed women as objects and weakness. I've learned to compose myself, so I sit confident, my back rested. Even when my heart is thumping harshly.

"Hey." My sister juts in when silence continues spreading among us, his eyes don't shift to her, they stay plastered to mine that I want to poke them out with my fingers.

"You're late." I state, crossing my ankles, he blinks twice, finally taking the chair as he sits down, his legs are spread on both sides of him, he places his arms down on his thighs, the posture confident yet relaxed.

"I am." He confirms as if I'm not aware, absolutely calm it makes me slightly mad, that he doesn't have one single ounce of caring, "You wanted us to meet." I start, raising an eyebrow.