“For what?”
“For being family.”
It’s true. Over the past months, Lev has become like a protective older brother. He taught me to shoot, accompanied me on shopping trips when Dimitri was busy, stood patiently outside dressing rooms, and carried bags without complaint. He even helped me pick out Dimitri's wedding gift. A vintage watch that had belonged to his grandfather, which I had restored and engraved.
He gave a small nod, clearly moved but trying not to show it. “Dimitri is a lucky man.”
“I'm the lucky one.”
“You're both lucky. That's what makes it work.”
Then he turns to lead me through the hall, past family portraits and expensive art, toward the doors that open onto the garden. With each step, I can hear the string quartet more clearly, the soft murmur of conversation, and the rustle of fabric as guests find their seats.
“Ready?” Lev asks as we reach the doors.
I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of flowers. “Ready.”
We step into the estate’s gardens, which are always beautiful, but today they are magical. Rows of white chairs curve around the courtyard fountain, which is decorated with floating white roses. Tall cypress trees wrapped in strands of gold-tipped lights create natural pillars along the sides of the seated area. A white runner leads down the center, scattered with petals that shine in the afternoon light like tiny stars.
Maxim and Sasha sit in the front row, dressed like they stepped out of a fairytale. Maxim wears a miniature version of his father's suit, his dark hair slicked back and his blue eyes serious as he watches me approach. Sasha's dress is a cloud of pale pink tulle, and she clutches a small basket that holds flower petals, now empty since she apparently scattered them all before I even appeared.
Little Angelina squirms in Olga's lap, wearing a dress that matches Sasha's but in miniature. At just over two years old, she is more interested in the ribbon from her flower crown than in the ceremony. Still, she claps her hands when she sees me, making Olga shush her gently.
There are more faces I recognize. Some of Aleksandr’s men who have become friends and a few people from my old life that made the guest list. But they all blur into background noise because my eyes go straight to him.
Dimitri.
He is standing at the altar beneath an arch woven with white roses and ivy, dressed in black, his hands clasped in front of him, his jaw tight, his eyes locked on mine like nothing else exists.
I’ve never seen him look so...raw. No armor. No walls. Just a man who lived through hell and still somehow chose love.
The black suit fits him perfectly, emphasizing the broad line of his shoulders and narrow waist. But it is his face that stops my heart. There is no trace of the cold, calculating man I first met. This is the man who holds me when I have nightmares and who remembers my favorite coffee order. This is the man who loves me.
As I walk down the aisle, everything else falls away. Each step brings me closer to a future I never allowed myself to imagine. A future where I don’t have to run, don’t have to hide, don’t have to protect myself from the possibility of loss because the man waiting for me has already proven himself worthy of trust.
I reach him, and Lev places my hand in Dimitri's. His fingers close over mine like a promise that says, I’ll never let you go.
When our skin touches, I feel some nervous energy leave my body. This is right. This is where I belong.
“You're beautiful,” he murmurs, low enough that only I can hear.
“So are you.”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips. “Ready?”
I nod once.
The officiant speaks, but I barely hear him. Something about love being a choice made daily, about commitment being more than promises spoken at garden parties. Words about building a life together, about facing whatever comes next as partners. Because when Dimitri looks at me, I see my entire world.
Dimitri reaches into his jacket and pulls out a velvet box. He slides the diamond wedding band onto my finger with surprisingly steady hands. I do the same with the platinum band I chose for him—simple, strong, unbreakable.
When the officiant pronounces us married, the world seems to exhale. Dimitri reaches out to cup my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones. We just look at each other for a moment, letting the magnitude of what we just did settle between us.
When the officiant tells us we are now bound, I don’t feel caged…I feel free. His lips brush mine. It's not hard or urgent, just right.
The courtyard erupts in applause, cheers echoing off the estate's stone walls. Sasha squeals with delight. I hear Talia sniffling behind me, and when I glance over, I see Aleksandr's arm around her shoulders, keeping her steady while she cries happy tears.
Dimitri leans down, brushing his mouth against my ear. “You're mine now.”