“Probably best not to,” she replied, laying the cash on the dashboard.
“Even got dollars, huh,” he muttered, glancing sideways.
“Yeah. Two hundred fifty bucks and three thousand rubles.”
“Give me a hundred,” he said, holding out his hand.
Nadya handed him a $100 bill.
“That’s for the registration. Put the rest back,” he ordered, tucking the money into his pocket.
By 1 AM, they were already asleep in separate hotel rooms. Spartacus had no energy left to think. Marriage? Fine. At least now he had a reason to be responsible for this crazy girl—as her husband.
At exactly 9 AM, they stood at the door of the civil registry office in the district center. Spartacus had called an old army buddy at dawn, and through a few connections, got everything arranged fast. Then he woke his blissfully unaware bride, and they rushed back over.
The hundred dollars weren’t enough, so he threw in another bill, and they were registered. The only requirement was a pregnancy certificate to justify the urgent marriage.
When he heard that, Spartacus almost backed out. But Nadya pulled him aside and promised him it wouldn’t come to that.
“It better not,” he grumbled with suspicion.
An hour later, they were officially declared husband and wife and handed a marriage certificate.
In worn jeans and a slightly grubby blouse, the bride still looked stunning. Spartacus caught himself staring at her for a moment, then shook his head and walked toward the car.
“Never thought my bride would walk out of a wedding in jeans and a ponytail instead of a veil…”
“Phew! You’re my angel, my savior!” Nadya cheered, hopping into the old UAZ.
Perfect outfit. Fancy car. What a day, he thought, smirking as he started the engine.
“Where are we going now?” his new wife asked.
“To my house,” he said, shooting her a look. “Time to meet your in-laws.”
“You’re serious?!”
“What, you want your father to think something’s off?”
“No, of course not… you’re right. But what am I supposed to do there?”
“Live.”
“For real?”
“For real. As my wife. And get ready to work, sweetheart. Nobody’s gonna let you lay around doing nothing.”
“You’re kidding, right? This isn’t a real marriage!”
“Only for us. Everyone else will think it’s the real deal,” he said. “Either that, or we get divorced, and I go straight to your father with everything I know—his name, address, the whole package.”