"Did you show her the ring ?" Grigori intrudes while eyes focused on his game. "Beverly loved the ring I got her when I proposed."
"Oh yeah!" Yigor agrees. "Jewellery! Women love that shįt! The more expensive, the more merrier the woman gets. Vlad, man you need to spike up your romance game..man you lack the romance!"
"This isn't romance.." Ensues the clipped response, frigid blue eyes refusing to leave mine. "Nor is this love.."
I'm the first to break away from his gaze, it was much too intense. A lump forms in my throat as tears resurface within my eyes.
"However.." His hard tone transitions to a light and relaxed one. "I do possess a ring expensive and precious to my heart..the family heirloom..my mother's wedding ring."
I look towards him again and find that he's gotten to his feet and glides towards the fireplace mantle. There he clasps his hand over a round box, the top of the box was shaped as an elaborately carved silver dome.
He turns around and approaches me, a conceited smirk lifting at his lips. As he comes to a stand still infront of me, I notice the silver design on the box are actually intricately carved silver dragons. Their eyes are gleaming specks of emeralds and sapphires. They are carved as to appear flying around the Christian Cross which completes the mini dome's top.
"Miss Kashani?" His voice deviates to a slight husky rasp as he kneels infront of me on one knee. My alarmed gaze meets his desire filled one. He clicks open the round box, a sweet melody starts playing as a small silver ballerina arises while she holds up a ring. "Will you do the honours of becoming Mrs. Nielsen, will you marry me ?"
I stare in complete shock at the ring, it's a priceless tear drop diamond, the silver band bordering it are carved dragons. The room around me seems to fall deathly quiet, the entire world seemed to have halted from moving on its axis.
I don't know how long it took before I let out my answer barely above a shaky whisper. "No."
A tear escapes my eyes and falls directly on top of the diamond, making it sparkle even more. I risk a glance at his face, his mouth is set in a grim line, brows furrowed in ire. Before I know it, he clamps the box shut, ceasing the melody and nearly slams it down on the table. Then he grasps one of my upper arms and drags me out of the vast lounge, with the men gaping after us.
"P-Please free me!" I beg through my silent tears, but to no avail. "Let me go please! What have I done to earn this fate?!"
Rounding an arching corridor, he shoves me against the wall and coldly answers. "After fūcking up my mind, you have the nerve to request I let you off the hook. That's not how it works, princess..that's not how it works with Vladimir Nielsen."
"Why can't you marry someone else?! Why me?!" I stammer, acutely aware of how close he was against me anew. My body reacting to his proximity in a shameless way again, heart racing rapidly.
"I've never desired marriage in the first place.." He scowls deeply. "But I'm doing you a favour, I'm protecting you and it's the only way I could keep you for myself. I'm honouring your modesty."
I frantically look for excuses to make him find me repulsive again. "I'm Muslim! You're supposed to be hating me for that! I'm not Russian or Danish! I'm not European! I'm not Christian! Why can't you go back to hating me ?!! You could get any pretty girl you want!! I'm not even pretty, I-"
"Enough!" He irately ceases my ineffective rambling. "Don't you fūcking dare utter against your beauty in my presence..you have no idea in what enthralling ways your aesthetics affect me...like a madman with a thirst unquenched.."
I can only but blink up at him in my awkward stance. He continues, Impassioned. "Staring at you provides coolness to my eyes, and when you're not near..my eyes fūcking ache for you."
What the hell is wrong with him?!!
I gasp as his hands travel up my waist lightly, my body stirring with a familiar illicit desire of this morning. He licks his lips, eyes darkening with need and he whispers chillingly. "As for our differences...I find them arousing..it's a major turn on..its forbidden..adds some zest to this deviant fixation over you.."
How dare he play around with me and everything I stand for like this ?! Dastard is in it to humiliate me !!
"You can't marry me anyway!" I utter furiously through gritted teeth as I shove at his unflinching form. "You should be ashamed of lusting after a married girl!"
"Do you love him?" He questions coldly, eyes narrowing into slits.
"I.." I'm completely caught off guard by such a question before I blurt angrily. "That's none of your business!!"
"I'm taking that as a decline, you don't love him." He curtly remarks, evading my latter statement.
"That doesn't mean a thing! The whole point is you can't marry me anyway, I'm already married. You can't make me divorce him, since Islamically the husband has to give the divorce by saying it thrice! So you can shove your disgusting plans up where the sun don't shine!!" I conclude smugly, thinking I had won this conflict.
He raises a brow and I find it unnerving when an evil smirk laces his lips as his eyes glimmer psychotically. Lifting his hand, he grazes a calloused thumb across my lips while his voice emits eerily collected. "Divorce can be arranged today..don't worry your pretty little head sweetheart..let daddy take care of your problems."
***********************************************************
A couple of hours later, I'm standing in the vast garage of the villa, overcome by complete shock. There infront of me is none other than my husband, Imran Mirza.
His eyes are concealed by a bandana scarf while his mouth is gagged by thick rope. His entire body is bounded to a chair and the angry sounds of his voice are muffled. The veins in his neck are popping out, I could tell how enraged he really was.
I feel sick to my stomach as my mind is bombarded by the memory of the physical and emotional abuse he inflicted on me during the month I had stayed with him. I pivot on my heel, ready to sprint away from there when the demon grabs ahold of my shoulders and keeps me still. "The divorcing ceremony hasn't even commenced yet, sweetheart."
I shoot him a glare but he doesn't notice as his spiteful eyes remain on Imran. I should have known this would occur. Was I right to have opened my big mouth in regards to divorce? But, this demon was forcing his stance either way.
Yigor and Grigori saunter around Imran, their faces lit with smirks. Then Grigori speaks smugly. "Puny áss gangster is no match for a Mafia."
"Shall I do the honours?" Yigor questions Vladimir and receives a nod in que.
As Yigor undoes the gag from Imran's mouth, Imran begins to shout out expletives. "Fūckin say that to me and my gang in the face bįtch! We'd show you who the fuck is a puny wanker, you Italian fūckfaces know how to be big'n' bad, attackin behind backs, shit! Fuckin cowards, come say it to our faces, Italian bitches!!!"
"He thinks we're some Italian mob!" Yigor laughs in evil merriment along with Grigori. "Boy doesn't know who's he got himself involved with."
Vladimir hasn't laugh nor smiled, face a stony expression as he encircles Imran like a demon. "How about we play a little guessing game of corrections, Ahmed? I provide you clues and you guess who I am."
"That ain't my name, bitch!" Imran spouts, he bares his teeth while his eyes remain concealed by the scarf. "White devil pįg! Your white cracker áss is no match for my gang! You bunch of limp dįck pūsssies!"
"Well..Ahmed..you certainly got the white part correct.." Vladimir curtly nods once. "Now tell me..what's silver and ebony..and travels silently within the shadows..causing bones to snap ?"
"Please tell him to stop this!" I plead in a low whisper to Grigori, hoping Imran doesn't hear me. But Grigori shakes his head at me and blocks the doorway from my escape.
"How the fuck should I know?!" Imran replies irritably. "My men are hot on your trail by now, fucker!!"
"The answer is the Silver Dragon, you imbecile gangster!" Yigor pipes in, earning a glare from Vladimir.
Imran ends up laughing in disbelief. "Fūck off with that myth, it's not even sc
ary enough for a children's bedtime story!"
"You should get on with the divorce ceremony." Serge's voice intrudes as he sticks his head through the half open door. He refuses meeting my helpless gaze.
"We haven't got much time." Huxley informs behind him. "Before we call the Imam from the Mosque and the Church Father."
With that, Vladimir nods at Yigor who immediately removes the bandana from Imran's eyes. My heart hammers within my chest, as Imran squints a few times while peering at everyone around the room.
When his eyes land on me, his expression startles before souring. "You fūckin bįtch!"
"What the fuck did you say?!" Vladimir snarls as he brings up a fist, but Yigor and Grigori rush at his side and restrain him.
"Not yet man!" Yigor reminds. "Get them divorced first!"
Imran ignores them, his eyes shoot daggers my way. "This how it is? You betray your own kind for these infidels?!"
"Give her a fūcking divorce now!" Serge demands as he bursts through the door, hand aiming a gun at Imran's direction.
"No!! Don't hurt him!!" I plead, by now my tears were trailing down my cheeks in rivulets at the sight of the weapon.
"Why the fuck should I give her a divorce?!" Imran barks venomously. "You pale faced fuckers stole her from me! What's wrong huh? You small dick fūckers can't get laid? Stealing our women, go fuck your own! Oh wait even your own leave your small dick asses for us."
"It's not anyone's fault that you're more attracted to goats than you were to her when she was under your roof, you sand dwelling degenerate." Vladimir fires back calmly, striving hard not to lose his composure. "In control here are the white Russian devils..i'd personally enjoy skinning your ass."
I was appalled by the racially abusive remarks they aimed at eachother. My head begins pounding by a severe headache. I wanted this to be some bad dream that I could awaken from. How was it that I had managed to get captured in such a ruthless violent world of criminals.
"Go on, dollface..tell Ahmed to give you a divorce nicely otherwise things may get ugly too soon." Vladimir coaxes me in a clipped voice full of malice for Imran. "Or do you want me to make a widow out of you instead?"
"No! Please don't hurt him! He will give me a divorce!!" I rapidly assure and then worriedly glance at Imran. "Please Imran, just say it three times and sign the divorce papers..please don't make this difficult!!"
"You're a fuckin disgrace, Sanam! A whore to the white man!" Imran spat, his glob of mucus lands inches away from my feet.
Right then everything occurs in a slow motion, as Vladimir's fist crashes against Imran's face. A loud scrunching sound ricochets through out the room.
"She's not a whore!!" Vladimir growls lethally and continues repeating the words, deranged eyes set on Imran. He proceeds smashing his large fist against Imran's face in violent blows.
I let out a scream of horror at the situation before me, Imran's face was beginning to bleed. Hearing my scream, Vladimir freezes as his worried eyes lock with mine and I plead. "Stop!! You'll kill him!!! Stop!!!"
"I'll skin him alive, if he doesn't divorce you or you refuse to marry me." Vladimir threatens dangerously.
"No! Please don't kill him! I'll marry you!" I entreat through sobs. "I'll marry you!!"
Both Yigor and Grigori pull at Vladimir's arms and he reluctantly shifts away from Imran. Serge grabs the divorce documents and pen from the desk and shoves it under Imran's hand. While both of his upper arms remain bounded, Imran's free hand tremulously signs the divorce papers.
"I divorce you..." Imran's sputters blood, some of his teeth fly out and fall at my feet. "I divorce you..I divorce you.."
I feel bile rise to my throat from witnessing his bloody unrecognizable face, and the shreds of pink flesh clinging to his discarded teeth. Before I know it, I double over and vomit on the floor.
◆◆◆
"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." Father Alcott anounces several hours later, with a warm smile as he looks between me and the demon who was now my husband.
I blankly stare at the demon, he gazes down at me adoringly. It's sickening to say the least. He closes the distance between us and presses a quick chaste kiss against my lips. Somehow, I feel even more sick at the shiver that runs down my spine from this gesture.
A resounding applaud flows to our ears from below the makeshift stage. We turn towards our so called wedding attendees, comprising of Mister Dimitri Molotov, Serge, Grigori, Yigor and the two maids named Galina and Matilda.
The demon shifts his piercing blue eyes on me and whispers. "I promise I'll provide you a much bigger wedding as soon as things get better, as soon as I eliminate each and everyone of those swine for what they did to you. I'll protect you, my beloved wife."
I need protection against you ! I want to scream.
Without giving him a respond, I start trudging away before he pulls me back in his iron grip. "Not so fast princess, we will now have an Islamic wedding just for you."
I shoot him a glare as soon as I spot an imam being lead down the aisle of the makeshift Church. The Imam glances about himself in confusion. This day was just getting worse and worse for me. I needed to devise an escape plan. I needed to do it very soon.
Chapter 29
Vladimir's POV
"Another toast to the newlyweds, may God bless you both abundantly!" Dimitri Molotov announces while raising his glass. He couldn't appear more exuberant after consuming more than his share of liquor tonight. His overjoyed intoxicated eyes shone brightly over his most beloved nephew as he continues well-wishing. "Live long happy healthy lives."
"Amen to that!" Yigor vigorously nods his approval as he chugs another shot of vodka.
Both Serge and Grigori pause their game of billiards as they also bestow adulations to their blonde cousin who at the moment, sported a satisfactory expression.
Currently they were spending the evening in the lounge, after dining over a sumptuous wedding feast. The dusky sky was dragging outside of the windows, as impatience ran its course through Vladimir. Yet he wouldn't dare rush his uncle out of the villa, for he was most grateful that his uncle had decidedly overlooked the rules he had broke inorder to rescue her.
His uncle had insisted upon the men spending some casual time to themselves over drinks. Vladimir, however was in no mood for drinks or anything else besides her.It felt like ages had passed since her presence had departed from his at the completion of dinner.
He desired his senses to remain sharp and keen tonight, untethered by intoxication of any alcoholic beverage. Afterall why would he need a drink, when he was already drunk on her?
The peculiarly painful pang he felt as soon as the maids lead her away from the dining table, away from his side, caused him nothing short of momentary unease. That's when Serge had taken note and clamped a brotherly hand over his shoulder, assuring Vladimir that his wife would await her husband's presence in the master bedroom.
Now, his fingers thrummed against the coffee table in repleted anticipation. The word wife, swirling around in his mind along with the most heated images of her, in bed with him. It was increasingly difficult to thwart his thoughts elsewhere as the minutes ticked by slowly. In the presence of his uncle and cousins, he intended to keep at bay his straining arousal against his pants.
"Hmm..I think I shall call it a night." Huxley spoke next to him on the leather couch, in between leisurely puffs of his cigar. "What do you say, Vladimir?"
Slowly, Vladimir turns his head to his father's trusted valet and his lips quirk in silent gratitude. "Indeed, I call it a night."
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