Page 70 of The Russian's Forced Bride
He loved me. My husband, Rafael Kamarov, loved me—and that was all that mattered.
Epilogue – Arlette
The backyard of the Lake Forest house glowed brightly with golden lights, which swayed softly with the early evening breeze. The atmosphere was filled with a soothing tranquility, bathed in nature, as laughter echoed into the trees and drifted in the air.
On the table right before the outdoor pool was a crowd of gifts and neon-colored balloons. The scrumptious aroma of grilled burgers and frosted vanilla cake mingled with fresh-cut grass and blooming gardenias.
I stood by the pergola, barefoot on the cool stone patio and cradling a half-empty glass of lemonade, my eyes wandering toward the setting sun, a small, content smile playing at my red-tainted lips. The gentle gust of wind brushing by wisped my now vibrant ginger hair about, my yellow sundress fluttering at my knees.
I was content, my heart blossoming with love and a secret I couldn’t wait to share with the man who had turned my life over for the better. The laughter of my loved ones bounced into my ears from where I stood, and I couldn’t be more grateful for them. I had never felt more content than I did at that moment, and I was sure nothing could ever top that feeling.
The exposed neckline of my dress allowed Rafael’s dark eyes to stray every few seconds from where he was seated at the table, handsomely dressed in a tuxedo and surrounded by our friends, chattering as they dined and doted on a one-year-old Brandon Kamarov.
Cassandra had joked while sipping wine, saying the kid looked nothing like his father—even though they shared the same luscious dark hair and handsome pale skin—only taking his bone structure and forest green eyes from me.
The little child was a perfect mixture of both of us and had quite an appetite, seeing as he dashed from one end of the table to another, stuffing his mouth with cake and giggling in excitement.
The child was quite the troublemaker, too, as he occasionally crawled his way to Maxim, tossing cake onto his face, and Maxim could only chuckle in response. The kid was a menace—just like his father.
As Rafael tore his eyes away from me to our child, I knew how important it was that Brandon was allowed to grow up around love—something Rafael was never allowed to feel as a child himself. And though our futures were still bound by the Bratva, we figured our boy had better chances at a normal life than Rafael ever did.
Rafael then beckoned to the nanny standing just some feet from us, reaching out to grab his boy as he neared him, his face covered with crumbs and icing.
He peppered a kiss on the child’s cheek and handed him over to the nanny, who gladly took him, a bright smile on her face.
“Let him nap before he gets another round at eating himself to obesity,” Rafael joked as he politely ordered the nanny, who laughed softly in response before wiping the icing off Brandon’s cheek and taking him inside.
Excusing himself from the table, Rafael made his way over to me. Even as I stared dazedly at the moon, which now graced the sky, its luminescent light radiating across both of us, I could feel his stare.
“Your beauty and grace never fail to capture me,” he muttered.
Warmth pooled in my stomach, and I remember what Rafael had admitted to me shortly after my kidnapping—how he’d never fully understood the wordloveuntil he met me. Whatstarted as a burning curiosity from the depths of his soul and a twisted obsession transitioned into something more blissful— a yearning that could never stop.
A twisted part of Rafael still obsessed over me. But instead of fearing the brutality of his feelings, he chose to embrace it, as did I.
As long as we had each other, that was enough.
I laughed now, feeling his watchful gaze trailing over me.
“You witch,” he teased. “This spell you’ve cast over me will last till the day I die, and I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”
“Good,” I returned, my heart thrumming in my chest with pure, unadulterated love. “That’s what you deserve.”
His dark eyes skimmed over me as I turned to face him, chuckling at how dazed he looked. Then he pointed to my lip, a playful laugh leaving his mouth.
“You’ve got a bit of frosting on your mouth. I guess that’s where Brandon gets his spunk from,” Rafael joked, brushing his thumb over my lips.
A smirk graced my face as I grabbed his hand before he could take it away and slowly ran my tongue along his frosted thumb, eliciting a groan from Rafael, whose eyes darkened at the action.
My eyes, though innocent, held a seductive glint in them, and I watched as Rafael’s dick hardened just at my stare and the warmth of my saliva on his thumb.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his accent thick. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’ll get you pregnant again right here and now,kroshka,” Rafael threatened, his hands cupping my cheeks.
I laughed heartily in response, the teasing glint replaced by pure joy as I stared into Rafael’s eyes.
I loved him in all ways a woman could love a man. I loved his darkness and everything that came with him. Even thoughat the beginning I had loathed his very existence, I couldn’t imagine living without him.
And even through all we had been through together, when I had requested we name our boy “Brandon,” Rafael simply nodded in understanding. Memories from those years still haunted me sometimes, and as much as Mateo Saavedra had betrayed me, I still thought of him as Brandon Orozco—my little brother who had been there at my worst.
