KIRILL’S POINT OF VIEW.

The sound of the elite band playing some bullshit medieval music felt grating to my ears as I stood at the altar awaiting the bride. My mind couldn’t help but revert to the woman I’d met two weeks ago at the dinner I was supposed to have with Sophia.

More like a fucking torture session.

Sophia was so self-absorbed; all she talked about was her, her jewellery, the fact that she came from wealth….so fucking exhausting.

But I tried to endure the boring dinner; my gaze set on the goal before me with each word she spoke as a reminder.

Revenge.

The family didn't know it yet. But the homeless man they killed in that hit-and-run was my brother. He might have been a mentally challenged person who liked to wander off from the mansion to that spot, but he was still my brother.

And they killed him.

Or rather, she killed him.

Sophia Rodriguez. 

Which was why I allowed her to think I didn’t know she'd tied me to the gym ever since we’d brushed shoulders at a gala.  I remember how I tried so hard not to roll my eyes, and almost thanked the heavens aloud when she walked to the bathroom.

Only to have the most gorgeous voice bless my ears.

The second I made eye contact with the woman who looked like a carbon copy of my fiancée, I knew I wasn’t staring at Sophia. The shade of their green irises was completely different. While one looked calm, and twisted in a mean way. The other appeared wild, but at the same time seemed calm.

Another thing was her body.

God, her body!

I knew she hid a weapon under the fake coat she had on, and I swear I wanted to see it. But even as she offered to marry her instead, I had a different plan forming in mind.

The chase was a thrill I never failed to indulge in, and I could see the rage, passion, and a beautiful desire for revenge in her green eyes. So I told her the one word that would leave her wanting more.

‘No.’

One complete sentence that would change the trajectory of everything.

I watched as the church doors pulled open to reveal my bride. Her veil dragged along as she walked as gracefully and elegantly as any happy bride would. My eyes drew in the way her hands shook slightly against the bouquet of red roses she held. 

I heard the whispers of the women, feeling the envy practically rolling off of them.

But I knew something they all didn’t.

That wasn’t Sophia Rodriguez.

Rather, the woman walking to me, dressed in her sister’s wedding dress, holding her bouquet, was her twin sister, Summer.

A vicious smirk pulled at my lips at the thought of the entertaining game playing out before me. As soon as she stopped before me, I caught a whiff of that same cologne Sophia had on. The scent felt very artificial and almost too much.

It felt like she had something to prove, but I could feel in my gut that Summer was different.

“My daughter, Mr Volkov.” Her mother whispered, placing her hand in mine softly with a wide smile on her face. “Please, take care of her.”

“Your daughter is in perfect hands, Mrs Rodriguez,” I replied, without breaking eye contact with Summer. 

I didn’t even notice her mother walking away; all I could focus on was her. 

Her shoulders trembled slightly before she relaxed quickly. As if she didn’t want anyone suspecting anything, her breath caught just slightly every few steps before she stood in front of me. I could tell she wasn’t performing — she was trying to survive.

And God help me, I found it fascinating.

Her hands clutched the bouquet too tightly. The petals quivered as if they shared her nerves. Beneath the lace and pearls, she looked like a woman trying to hold the world together with trembling fingers.

Still, she stood before me.

And I let her.

Because I wanted to see how far she’d go.

The priest began his sanctimonious words, but my eyes never left her. She avoided my gaze, pretending to focus on the vows. Her lashes fluttered each time I said her name. Sophia. The name didn’t belong to her, but I liked the way she flinched when I said it.

For some reason, it excited me.

When the time came to exchange rings, her hand shook so much I had to steady it as softly as possible. My fingers brushed against her soft, warm, trembling one, causing her to gasp quietly.

I smiled at that and leaned in slightly so I could speak. “Breathe,” I whispered low enough for only her to hear.

Her throat bobbed as she obeyed with a nod.

And in that moment, for the first time in years, I felt something in my cold, dead heart.

It wasn’t love, nor was it affection. But something dark and curious was curling in my chest — a heat that had nothing to do with the candles flickering behind the altar, or the sheer desire to know what went on in her mind.

But I couldn't put my finger on it.

When the priest asked the one question everyone was waiting for, “Do you, Kirill Volkov, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

I looked at her with the same smirk from the dinner on my lips.

At the liar. 

The imposter. 

The thief wearing another woman’s smile.

“I do,” I said.

Her head jerked slightly, surprise flashing through her features before she caught herself. She didn’t know that I knew. She thought she’d fooled me.

When the priest turned to her, her lips parted, voice breaking just slightly as she said as she rushed out, as if she wanted to get it over with, “I do.”

“By the power vested in me,” the priest announced, “I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride.” He said, and I didn’t waste a moment. I pulled the veil off her face softly, grabbed her by the waist, so she leaned against me. She stumbled against me with a gasp, her eyes slightly wide as she glared at me.

“It’s time for our kiss, wife,” I whispered, and crashed my lips to hers without wasting one more second. Her whimper felt like electricity in my veins as I swallowed it, my lips entangled against hers in front of the high society of London, and before the altar. 

As soon as my lips connected with mine, I knew I’d fucked myself over. She tasted perfect….sweet, and I didn’t do anything sweet. But I knew one thing: if she tasted as sweet as this from just a kiss, I’d want more.

And I think I’d do anything to get more.

She gripped onto my shirt tightly, tapping softly on me, so I released her. My chest heaved with pants as one word reverberated throughout my being.

Mine,

But before I could say it, I heard a strangled screech, followed by the sound of the door practically flying off its hinges as it slammed against the wall.

Sophia walked into the cathedral, mascara stains sticking to her cheeks from obviously crying, her hair all over the place as she glared at her sister, my wife.

“What the hell is going on?” her mother asked as soon as she saw the state her other daughter was in. “How are you…..wait….who are you?” She stumbled over her words.

“Sophia, mother! I’m Sophia!” She screeched again, almost triggering my hatred for noise as I smirked discreetly at the show playing before me. 

“But then….who is….No.” Her mother whispered as her recognition flashed in her eyes.  “Summer?!” She screeched at the same time as her daughter.

I fought the urge to cover my ears, as my heart rate spiked at the influx of noise. 

“I told you I would get revenge.” Summer said, causing my head to snap to her instantly. She wasn’t going to hide or cry?.

Hmm….interesting.

“STOP THIS! THAT’S MY WEDDING!” She screeched again, but Summer simply smirked, her eyes flashing with pure elation and victory.

“Sorry, Sophia. By the power vested in him, we’re now husband and wife.”  

That’s my fiancé! That’s my dress! She’s not me!”

The crowd erupted instantly, as chaos bloomed like wildfire inside the cathedral. The sound of the cameras flashed, followed by that of the band still playing. But this time, it was more comedic….at least to me. Their voices collided, and the priest nearly dropped his Bible in shock.

I stepped forward, my arm snaking around Summer’s waist as I drew her closer — close enough to smell the faint trace of her shampoo beneath the veil.

“She’s lying,” I said coolly, while ensuring I was loud enough for the crowd to hear. “This woman—” I squeezed her waist slightly, feeling the tension rolling off her in waves, “—is my wife.”

The cathedral fell silent, and all of a sudden, it was rippled with a sharp gasp from all the guests.

Sophia’s face went white, along with her mother’s. “W–what?”

I smiled faintly. “You heard me.”

“But Kirill—she’s a fraud! She’s—”

“I said,” I interrupted softly, dangerously, “she’s my wife.”

The reporters went wild. The cameras flashed like lightning.

But all I saw was her — the imposter trembling beside me.  She looked up at me, eyes wide, and for the first time, I saw something raw there. Fear. Confusion. A spark of something else — maybe gratitude.

I leaned closer, my voice a whisper only she could hear.

“Congratulations, Mrs Volkov,” I murmured. “You wanted to play pretend? Let’s make it real.”

And as the chaos swelled around us, I kissed her.

Not gently. Not tenderly. But with deliberate, calculated pressure — sealing a lie so perfect even God might hesitate to judge it.

Because in that kiss, I tasted her shudder.

And in mine, I gave her a promise.

This was no marriage.

The crowd could pray all they wanted, but no divine or artificial power aside from mine was invited to this union.

This was war.

CHAPTER FIVE.

THE NIGHT AFTER THE WEDDING.

SUMMER’S POINT OF VIEW.

My lips still burned from the intensity of his kiss, but I tried to hide how flustered I was, as I squared my shoulders, avoiced his piercing dark gaze, and turned to stare at my sister, who stood in my mother’s arms, her face red as if she would shoot steam from her ears.

“Checkmate, sis,” I said, clutching my flower bouquet tightly while fighting the urge to hurl it at her head. Five years….she stole five years from me, and thought she could just what?

Carry on and become the princess of London’s high society… never, over my dead fucking body.

She jumped from my mother’s arms and stopped in front of Kirill. Her eyes shone with the same manipulative glint she always used to steal my boyfriends in the past, because Sophia could never stand me being happy, or any boy having the slightest interest in me. I remember crying to sleep on most nights while I’d have to stomach the sound of her and another one of my boyfriends fucking in the room right next to mine.

“Kirill.” She started, her voice low as though she was purring. She pushed her tits up slightly and practically shoved them in his face. Her heels made her ridiculously tall, so she could meet his shoulders at least. “Come on, look at her.” She said, and turned to regard me as though I were the dirt under her shoes. I froze because I knew what she would say next.

My record,

“She’s a criminal, a murderer, a no-good bitch who has killed someone in cold blood. I don’t think your perfect family needs such a mess on your hands. I, on the other hand,” She paused, a slight smirk on her lips to truly reveal her ugly character flashed at me, but almost instantly, it disappeared. “Have no record, and I am the most beautiful twin.”

“Yes, Mr Volkov.” My mother chipped in, the sound of her heavy footsteps grating to my ears as she stopped beside my sister. She mirrored the malicious smile my sister had; the one only I could somehow see, because everyone else worshipped them. “She’s been a disgrace to my family ever since my husband died, and I do not want you to suffer the horror of living with someone so…. disgraceful.” She spat, her lips twisted in a snarl as she glared at me.

“So what do you both want me to do?” Kirill said, his voice louder as he drawled seductively. I froze instantly and steeled my spine in readiness for when it would come. He’s going to abandon me and take her side instead. It always happened; no one ever chose me.

Sophia was the more suitable twin, the more beautiful twin; the pride of the family…unlike me.

“Annul the marriage, Kirill.” They said at the same time. Kirill, on the other hand, looked at them as thought they were under a microscope.

I swallowed again and held my breath for when the rejection would come, as well as the pain that would follow swiftly, along with a sense of embarrassment.

“Come on, priest. Do whatever you need to do and annul this sham of a marriage. I’ll take care of my horrible daughter myself.” She moved towards the priest, grabbed his hand, and dragged the skinny old man to where Kirill and I stood.

“Uhhh…Mr Volkov, do I proceed?” The priest asked, and just as I stood with a blank expression, we awaited his response.

For a moment, Kirll turned to me, his eyes raking over my body as a smile tugged at his lips again. And I swear my heart pummelled to my feet as he spoke;

“You said she’s a murderer.”

“Yes, a child bloodied one. She even tried to leave the dead body after running the poor man over.’ His jaw ticked as annoyance crossed his features for half a second.

“And I say, so the hell what?” Kirill said, causing me to blanch in utter shock. Sophia and my mother’s mouths hung open instantly, as they stared at my new husband with nothing short of shock on their faces.

“Kirill…I don’t think you heard me. I said she’s-‘

“A murderer, and again, so what the hell. As I said earlier, I already said I do. Summer is now my wife, Mrs Volkov, and you shall accord her the respect she’s owed.”

Before they could speak another word, he turned to me with a soft smile, his eyes gentle, which I guess should have calmed me…But I swear all it did was make me worry even more.

“Shall we, wife?” He asked with a bow, his hand stretched towards me. I placed my shaky palm on his, slightly relishing in the way his warm touch enveloped my much smaller palm in his, and next thing I knew, he pulled me towards him, and towards the back exit. His groomsmen followed swiftly without question, but just as we stopped in front of the door, Sophia yelled;

“Summer, I will have revenge! If you think you can steal my future from me and go scot free, you’ll be shocked!”

I didn’t know when I turned around and spoke back to her, “Now you know how it feels to have your future upended by someone you should have been able to trust.”

Kirill didn’t waste a moment. He pulled me out of the cathedral and onto the private parking lot where a fleet of sleek black cars awaited.

He moved me wordlessly, his jaw ticking with each second and every move, but all I could focus on was the beating of my heart, as well as a question.

Why the hell did he choose me?

Everyone else chooses Sophia; even when it was glaringly obvious that she was wrong… so why was he different?

I let him open the door for me and hold it as I sat inside the car. He didn’t utter a word, but from the tic in his jaw, I could see that he was not pleased. I didn’t utter a word as the car engine kicked to life, as the car pulled out of the garage, and onto the street. I simply watched while keeping myself as close to the door as possible. I listened to the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears, my eyes not once straying from the man sitting beside me, a drawn-out silence between us except for the sound of his fingers tapping softly on his knee with unnerving calm.

Kirill Volkov. My husband.

He didn’t look like a man who’d just been ambushed into marrying a stranger. He looked like someone who had planned this all along, like he knew what happened today would happen.

And maybe he had……

He didn’t speak the entire drive. Not a word, or a sigh. If I weren’t beside him, I’d question whether he'd been breathing at all. The car slowed, forcing me to shift my gaze to see the large estate ahead.

No, not an estate.

A fucking city.

But before I could take it all in, his hand shot out, gripping my wrist in a soft yet firm hold. “You’re coming with me.” He said, and moved to pull me out, but I couldn’t take the tension twisting in my spine anymore.

“Wait….stop,” I called, trying to pull my hand from his as gently as possible. But he didn’t budge.

“Ugh, fine….why the hell did you do that earlier? And how did you even know it was me under the veil? You didn’t seem shocked when the truth was revealed.”

He exhaled as though I were a bother before letting go of his hold on my palm. A shiver rushed through me at the loss of contact, but I hid it. “Because I read people, and from what I saw in your eyes the other night at dinner, you looked like a woman scorned.”

I swallowed hard and regarded him as one would a snake. “Would you like an explanation? I did just steal your bride’s place after all.”

“I was never going to marry Sophia.” He said, causing me to furrow my brows in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I planned to marry you.