Stolen By The Bratva King (NYC Russian Royals #2)

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

One year later…

Leon

T here could never have been a good day to bury Josef, but this is the first warm day of the incoming spring, and the sun brings with it a feeling of optimism despite the sad occasion.

My dyadya was glad to go. He picked up a pneumonia that dug itself into his lungs like a tick, and he lost his strength all too quickly, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He spent his remaining time with Emery, Desi, and me, and like rich food after a famine, he filled up on loving companionship until he was positively fat on it.

Emery nursed him through those final days, a selfless act for which I’ll forever be grateful. Even Desi lay beside him, his usual hyperactivity nowhere to be seen, and told him he would be safe where he was going.

The little guy has done me proud today, standing solemnly at my side and shaking hands with my friends and associates like the man he is.

Ah, no. As my wife regularly reminds me—Desi is a little boy. None of this ‘be a man’ stuff; although my Papa meant well, he instilled a sense of duty in me too young, and it was a tremendous burden.

My boy will never know the feeling of being forced to grow up too soon, and to that end, I changed a lot about how I live.

Alec is here today, chauffeured down from his comfortable house in his hometown, Poughkeepsie. He always wanted to go back, so when he mentioned it, I suggested a simple deal: I would buy him a house up there, complete with a golf course, and he’d let us live in Emery’s childhood home.

My father-in-law was delighted with this proposition, and although we don’t see him as often now, he’s always pleased to see us when we drop by. I’m genuinely terrible at golf, and despite many patient lessons, I’m not getting much better, but he likes it that way.

“Leon!” Alec is walking up the path arm-in-arm with Emery. “It was a beautiful service. Josef would have loved it. Everyone else is getting ready to go to my house—sorry, your house—for the wake.” He raises an eyebrow. “You coming along?”

“Not yet.” I reach for Emery. “I need a minute with my family.” I gesture at the graves. “ All of them.”

Alec gives me a nod and retreats. I sit on the freshly mowed grass, my son on my lap, and Emery joins us.

Before us, my parent’s headstones gleam, looking almost as fresh as the brand new one that graces Josef’s final resting place. On all three, the same inscription:

Lyubov’ spasayet

“What does it mean?” Emery asks.

I kiss the back of her hand. “‘Love saves.’ It was my parent’s motto.”

She sighs. “Josef said that to me when we went to visit him that first time. He told me love would save you and me.”

“He was right.” I ruffle Desi’s hair. “You ready, moy mal’chik ?”

He pats my hand. “Yes.”

The three of us put a hand on the grass before us, just inside the shadow cast by my parent’s headstones.

“Papa, Mama,” I begin. “This is my family.” I kiss Emery’s cheek. “My wife, Emery Alecovna Vasilieva, and my son,” I bounce him gently, “Desimir Leonovich Vasiliev.”

“Those are big names,” Desi says. “Do I have to remember mine?”

I chuckle and grin at him. “Nah. But that’s your proper title. Russian names are fancy.”

“I wish I’d met them.” Desi flicks idly at my cufflink. “Would they have liked me?”

“Very much, kiddo. And they’d have loved your Mami, too.”

Desi carefully frees the carnation that’s pinned to his lapel and lays it carefully on my mother’s grave. We sit in silence, and I wonder whether my parents see me from their celestial seats and find me lacking.

For the first time in my life, I believe they’d be proud.

I may have taken a convoluted route to get here, but the city and its criminal underworld remain calm and orderly, with innocent people primarily out of the picture.

More importantly, though, I have what I thought I’d never have again; a family who loves me.

“Hey,” I say to Desi. “Let’s go visit your first Mami’s tree.”

We planted the sapling here in the memorial garden last year. It was Emery’s idea; loving Desi as she does, she wanted to respect the memory of his birth mom.

She sees too many frightened mothers and children every day in her work at Bright Futures, and she knows all too well how terrified Desi’s Mami must have been to die, certain he would suffer the same fate.

The kid doesn’t remember much. As the trauma of his early life receded, his mind buried the memories under new experiences and a growing sense of safety.

I doubt his poor mother would begrudge him that, but we still speak of her. It seems like the right thing to do.

Desi skips over to the walled garden, with Emery and I behind him. He reaches up and demands my carnation, and I hand it to him.

He puts it at the base of his first Mami’s tree, then steps back to look at it.

“It got taller, Papa,” he says. “Just like me. Maybe it’ll grow faster with some of Phil’s special food.”

Desi loves Phil because Emery does. Her beloved houseplant is growing like a goddamn Triffid ever since he took up residence in his fifteen-thousand-dollar Jiji planter.

“I keep telling you, kid.” I ruffle his hair. “Phil is gonna eat us all one day. You and Emery are gonna bring down humanity.”

Desi gives me an exaggerated eye-roll, then looks past me. “Lookit,” he says. “Roman and Quinn.”

I follow his pointing finger to see Roman opening the garden gate.

“Time to go to the wake and tell everyone how much you love being back at the helm,” he says. “Seriously. I don’t wanna hear another word from the komissiya about it.”

Quinn laughs and shakes her head. “Ignore him. He’d gotten too used to putting his feet up at home anyway. A week’s caretaking while you finally go on honeymoon is not a big ask!”

Quinn gives Emery and me a hug. It makes me happy that my best friend’s wife gets along with mine; Quinn was a civilian, too, so she’s been a good help to Emery, helping her navigate the ins and outs of the life while not getting too caught up in it.

“I baked so many things,” Quinn says. “Josef always liked my baklava, so I made tons of it before I remembered he’s not here to eat it. What the Hell; it’s his party, right?”

She clutches Emery’s arm. “So, South Africa! Have you been before, or will this be your first trip?”

Emery’s expression doesn’t falter.

“With my Mom and Dad, when I was a kid. But I didn’t enjoy that trip all that much, so I’m hoping it’ll be different this time. My dad is looking after Desi at his place while we’re gone.”

“Yay, deda Alec!” Desi shouts, making everyone laugh. “Let’s find him. You should go, Mami and Papa. Get on your plane.”

“There’s plenty of time yet,” Emery says, giving him a knowing look. “My father will give you tons of sweets and let you stay up late. I can’t imagine why you’re so keen for us to leave!”

Twenty-four hours later…

Emery

The yacht is gorgeous, with sleek white furniture and blonde wood decking. Leon paid double to self-drive, so what crew we have is cooking us a seafood supper.

It’s just us up top, the salt breeze whipping our hair as we sail toward the southernmost point of the African continent.

As I know all too well, the water can be choppy here, and the waves are big enough to worry me.

Leon holds the boat steady, moving it nearer the rocky shore of the Cape, and I shudder.

“Don’t worry, val’kiriya ,” he says. “It’s not so bad, and I can sail; I’ve done it plenty of times.”

“Leon, the last yacht you had under your control blew up.”

He throws me a glance. I love it when he gives me that look, the one when I’m acting out deliberately to annoy him.

“I blew it up intentionally if you recall.”

We dock in Struisbaai’s Harbour at L’Agulhas, where a cab is waiting for us.

Then, it’s a short drive to Cape Agulhas Nature Reserve, followed by a brief but scenic stroll to the official plaque, where someone has already left us an ice bucket with champagne.

I grew up wealthy, but things you don’t know can be bought until you’re face-to-face with the evidence. We are at the very tip of Africa, ready to watch the sunset, and our refreshments are here as if by magic.

“I don’t know how you do these things, Leon, but it’s wonderful.”

Leon pours me a glass of fizz. “I pay people an incredible amount of money, moya zhena . I don’t want to do these things myself, but those tasked to do it for me are more than happy, believe me.”

We sit on the rocks and watch the sun kiss the horizon. It feels so dreamlike that I would wonder if I was really here if it weren’t for the cold of the champagne and the roar of the sea.

Or, more accurately, seas. This is where the Atlantic and Indian oceans meet, and we can see it taking place below; a band of color where they clash, create a maelstrom of frothing power, then find equilibrium and flow together.

It reminds me of us. We had so much to work through to get where we are now.

I never read the note Leon gave me when he was sure he was going to die; I threw it away unopened.

I didn’t want the words in my head, not when I knew he would remain the leader of his bratva. There will always be danger, but his world is mine too now, and staying with him means facing that reality everyday.

My husband maintains he would never have stalked me and stolen me away if he’d known what would happen. But anything worth having must be earned, and we both put in plenty of blood, sweat and tears to make it here together.

“What a view,” Leon says.

He isn’t looking at the sunset or the water. He’s smiling at me, his face catching the golden-pink light.

“You’re all the beauty I need, Emery. There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t give you if you asked.”

“I know.”

I watch the water, searching myself for the pain I was so sure I’d feel.

My mom went out there alone, wrestling her too-small boat, and drowned in that merciless saltwater graveyard.

But instead of the wrenching agony of that day, I feel the warmth of the late evening sun on my skin, the lively champagne bubbles on my tongue, and my husband’s hand on mine.

“I thought I’d hate being here again,” I say.

Leon furrows his brow. “Then why did you want to come?”

“Because I wanted to know whether I’d truly forgiven myself.”

I lean on Leon’s shoulder. “If it still hurt, it’d be because I was stuck in the past, unable to let go. But I’m not dwelling on that part of it.”

“You know what I think?” Leons says, his voice warm as he nestles his cheek in my hair. “This is where you were when you and your parents were happy together for the final time. Sure, they had an argument and never got to make it up, but they loved one another, and you too.”

It’s true. My heart is full of memories I’d forced myself to put aside.

My parents laughed together, playing with me in the sand. The time we buried Dad and put a bucket over his head, then almost forgot to dig him out. Mom’s favorite hat getting pooped on by a gull.

I’m a mom now and want to find my way back to mine. I need her.

“You better not pull any more crazy stunts like you did to save me,” I say. “We’re a family now. You don’t get to run around being a menace to society and expect me to understand.”

Leon grabs my chin. “Emery, look at me. I’m the boss of my bratva, but no one stands above you, not even me. If you tell me to step down, I’ll do it.”

I kiss him, tasting salt and the tartness of champagne on his lips.

“Roman would kill you himself if you abdicated your throne,” I say. “But let the others take on more responsibility, and keep yourself off the front line. New York needs you almost as much as I do.”

“Debatable.”

His mouth grows hungrier, and he pulls me onto his lap. “This week is gonna be the best,” he says. “Sun, sea, and a lot of sex. We have two of those already, and as for the third, I’m not sure I can wait until we get back to the boat.”

His hands wander under my shirt, his hardness digging into my core, and I break the kiss.

“You are something else, Leon.” I rock my hips, and he groans. “A criminal, a killer, a thief?—”

“And the first—and last —love of your life.”

I tangle my fingers in his hair.

After everything we’ve been through, he’s more mine than ever. Leon may be the bratva king, but I’m the queen, and our kingdom awaits.

“I love you,” I say.

“I love you too, val’kiriya .” He slips his hand between my thighs. “Let me show you.”

THE END