THE DARKEST LIES TRILOGY
BOOK 3
BETHANY-KRIS
For all those Russian Guns fans ... you’ve waited long enough. XO
CONTENTS
THE MARRIAGE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
OTHER BOOKS
Copyright
ONE
Roman wanted to touch Karine while she stood across from him—tuck the stray strands of wavy hair that had fallen out from behind her ear—feel the shivers race over her shoulder blade when his fingertips glided down the column of her throat. But he made do with her palms tucked inside his larger hands as the officiant stood at their sides at the little makeshift church. The inside looked even less like an actual church than the outside—signage and proper placement could really do a lot for things.
The man in his robe was reading from a book, smiling at his own words and putting on quite a show. At least, the guy did seem to enjoy his job and some people might enjoy this kind of thing. Although, Roman didn’t care about the words, or much for the man speaking them—it was all a means to an end.
And a very beautiful beginning.
He just wanted to be married to this girl—he wanted to be bound to Karine for life. Even if the fraudulent paperwork made the marriage illegal, it was the act itself that couldn’t be undone. A bell that would never unring.
Besides, it wasn’t like following the law had ever made much of a difference to men like him before—it certainly wouldn’t matter to Dima to learn Karine had married Roman in a ceremony. Legal or not, that didn’t change what it was.
Or what it meant.
If she belonged to Roman, like he was tying himself to her, then nobody, not even Dima would take her away from him. He would die to make it true. There was no cost he would not pay.
The woman who stood close by was also the official witness to the wedding—the officiant’s wife wore a bright smile throughout her husband’s theatrics. No doubt, it was something she had seen a hundred times.
He was just more interested in Karine than the finer details of the happenings around him. He was fine pretending nobody else existed but him and her. Her in that red jumper, with her silky dark hair laying in messy waves over her shoulders. Her with her eyes so bright, and a sweet mouth stretched into the prettiest smile.
Could she feel his racing heartbeats through his fingertips?
Was she as excited as he was?
As eager?
They would walk out of there as man and wife—till death did they part. And he still wasn’t even entirely sure they were going to make it out of everything else alive, let alone this.
But she didn’t stop staring back.
And that smile ...
Those nerves that he was too proud of a man to show quieted with her in front of him, hands still steady in his. At one point, he had to repeat words after the officiant. Nothing religious, Roman had been quick to specify, not even a single verse. It was the basic, legal wording the officiant technically had to use. Karine repeated the same.
Roman hadn’t attended many weddings in his lifetime—the one’s he’d been forced to suffer through had been worsened by hangovers and stolen drug-fogged memories. So, he wasn’t completely aware of the proceedings. He simply did what he was told until finally the moment came that he’d been waiting for.
The only part that really mattered.
“You may kiss your bride.”
He lunged at a laughing Karine who had already pulled her hands from his to reach back for him. Engulfing her in his arms, he pulled her to his broad chest, crushing her there in the hard wall of his hold. Staring up at him, he realized—not for the first time, but certainly in the most significant way—how much smaller she appeared against him, barely toppling five-foot-three without a pair of heels. But she liked it—he saw that in her stare when those hungry eyes of hers locked on his mouth.
She liked being swallowed by him, inside his embrace, close to his heart. Always watching up at him through thick, lowered lashes. There, he thought she felt safe. He hoped it was always that way.
“Well,” Karine whispered the moment their lips started to graze, “kiss me.”
He made it good, too.
Bruising and breathless.
Undoubtedly uncomfortable for the other two people in the room watching, although he gave them credit for the fact they didn’t stop clapping until he finally pulled away from his grinning, new wife.
Karine weaved her fingers in his hair, her lips grazing the side of his stubbly cheek as she said, “This is not how I pictured my wedding day.”
“Someday, we’ll do it again—exactly how you want it.”
He took her hand in his, and brought it to his mouth to give her fingertips the gentlest of kisses.
She shook her head, tugging her fingers out of his to run them over his mouth and chin. “That’s not what I meant, Roman.”
She, too, had seemed to have forgotten about the others in the room. Or maybe they were just more important.
“What I pictured as my wedding day was going to be the end of my life. What little of it that I had. This is not what I was told it would be, and this was perfect.”
Well, then ...
Never one to be at a loss for words, he framed her delicate face with both palms, and said the only thing that really felt appropriate after her admission. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Roman.”
Karine kissed him that time—leaning up to her tiptoes to press her lips to his before nipping at his tongue when he dared to taste her.
His hands travelled down the deep cut in the back of her jumper, the pads of his fingers dancing dangerously low on her silken skin. Enough to make him hard. Just to know he was touching his wife. This was his wife. The baser part of his nature reveled in the idea that she was his to adore, spoil, enjoy however he wanted to, and
