Page 150 of Jewel of the Assassin
He stands in the corner, muttering something. After a few more aching seconds, my husband advances to the coward. And he pulls the lever—all the way down. One savage scream is all we hear before the body falls into the ice hole, disappearing into the depths. An icy, eternal coffin.
Before I can blink, Roman is before me, sweeping me into a honeymoon hold and stealing my breath.
“Back to the cabin, then?” I wonder as he sets me on the snowmobile transport.
“Yes.” He takes his place behind me, covering me with his body, wrapping me in his arms. “And then? Home.”
Home.
50
“You’ve never brought me here before.”
ROMAN
Ibegin the descent, bringing the puddle jumper down on our private runway.
Valentina’s still sleeping soundly in the passenger seat, wrapped in multiple blankets. I’d originally planned for the cruiser, cutting through the Arctic sea with a scenic tour of the glaciers. I would have brought Valentina back to the yacht. I’d planned champagne with a view of the stars and the Aurora Borealis and the sound of whales singing.
Everything changed the moment she revealed her pregnancy—as only she could have.
She will still have the stars and Auroras tonight. I’ve tracked the patterns for weeks, knowing another display is in store by nightfall. Our island is remote, perfect for views with no artificial light, especially on the far end of the island.
I’ve had my pilot’s license for a long time.
The moment I touch down, the plane shudders, then steadies. The runway is clear, salted, and groomed, just as it always is, nomatter how fierce the storms. That’s the advantage of my island. Everything bends to my will.
After we inherited both of our fathers’ empires and our takedown of all opposing networks, we are beyond the definition of filthy rich. Valentina has already chosen the multiple charities dedicated to regular donations, while my investments continue to turn a profit.
She stirs beside me. Eyes fluttering open, she presses her palm to the glass and lets out a soft gasp. The sight always does it. Dense woods cover the island like a fur mantle, broken only by the clearing at the heart where my estate rises. Beyond it, the restored chapel gleams, its cross catching the spring evening light. Once desecrated, it now stands whole again. We will renew our vows in the new building. While the sight sends fresh air into my lungs, my chest throbs with the memories of the nightmares. As much as we needed the time away from the island and knew it would be a clean slate, trauma still leaves scars.
Many rose in the first month. Sometimes, Valentina would wake screaming. Other times, I’d wake and sit in my chair in the corner of the room, two fingers of vodka, tempted by using my knife blade for my masochistic side…until she would wake and I’d fuck her slow and deep. She’d ride me, love me, and we would remember our long night of Russian-style Bonny and Clyde revenge.
Over time, the nightmares faded. The scars remain. But if they ever open, we stitch them up. Together.
We disembark, swathed in long, heavy coats, the wind biting through the wool as our closest family waits to greet us.
The hem of Fleur’s floral dress still peeks through the snow, her black hair braided Gothic-style, red lips prominent against the gray. My mother, Roksana, regal and sharp in her black attire, waits with Zina—Shalun preening at her shoulder—Mikhail steady at her side. Fleur holds a bouquet bright against the ice, while Levka grins wildly, a bottle of vodka clutched to his chest.
It does us all good to reunite.
“Welcome home, Roman,” Zina proclaims. And there are no stiff handshakes, only embraces. Valentina beams at the flowers, kisses Fleur’s cheek, and even pulls Roksana into her arms despite my mother’s muttered protests that Russians do not hug.
Mikhail steps forward, his smile easy. “We have some good news, my Lady.”
Disbelief and affection rise in me as Zina lifts her hand, her wedding band catching the pale light. Valentina squeals, hugging them both, then jabbing her finger between them. “You got married withoutme?” Yes, the one who set it all in motion. But she softens just as quickly, her laughter ringing out. “I’m so happy for you two.”
Levka, already glassy-eyed, raises his bottle. “And with that…we drink!” I chuff a laugh as his words slur, mushrooms still swimming in his veins. Glasses are passed, vodka burns down throats. All except Valentina’s. Levka frowns, eyes more hurt than angry. “You never refuse me, my Lady.”
She only smiles, glances at me, nodding her permission. I lift one hand with pride and announce, “My zhdyom rebyonka!”We’re pregnant.
Gasps. Cheers. Embraces. Even my mother’s stern mouth softens and beams with joy. Her chest lifts, her eyes filled with pride…for both of us.
While they fawn over Valentina, I move to Zina. “The place?”
“As per your order,” she replies, chin tilting toward the waiting car. Valentina’s worthy luxury carriage.
The sun dips low as I lead Valentina to it, her face glowing with joy. “Our honeymoon isn’t over,” I tell them all. “Don’t wait up.”
