Chapter 29
EMBER
Moscow. Is. Beautiful.
Turns out, no one could tie Rodion to anything and my video caused momentary suspicion but no more.
We still decided to leave town for a bit.
I thought I would want to go back to my apartment, but I find that the memories of Shawn are too hard to shake. I knew it was time for me to leave, and now I have good reason to.
I always wanted to travel the world. And after seeing homes like the Romanov mansion? I have no interest in going back to that apartment. I’m also not leaving Rodion’s side, and he needs a bed and shower big enough to accommodate him.
And what better way to practice my photography?
I sit on the balcony of the home Rodion grew up in, my camera perched in my lap, and wonder… is home really a place? Or is it who you’re with?
Maybe home is the weight of Rodion’s jacket on my shoulders, the faint scent of him reassuring. Maybe it’s the quiet hum of voices drifting from inside the house, voices I’m slowly learning to know and trust.
Maybe home is a place you return to, a place where you’re accepted and cared for, no matter your past. Maybe it’s a sense of belonging that’s unshakable. Because here, with Rodion, he’s home. And when I’m with him… this is my home too.
I lift my camera, framing the snow-dusted trees that line their property. Their home is right outside of Moscow but has the perfect view of the iconic city. A light fog curls around the bare branches, chilling yet beautiful, as if softening the sharpness of winter.
Rodion steps onto the balcony behind me, leaning against the railing. “Of all the things you could steal from me, I never thought it would be that old jacket.”
I shrug. “What’s yours is mine.”
I love the sound of his low, dark chuckle. “As long as you’re mine, that’s all I care about.”
I smile. I know. He has more clothes in his closet than I’ve owned in my lifetime, a testament to the wealth he grew up with, but he doesn’t care about any of them.
His hair is still damp from a shower, curling slightly at the temples. It gives him an almost boyish charm. He watches me quietly, something he does a lot these days.
We’ve been in Russia now for a full month. I’m absolutely terrible at speaking Russian, but fortunately, his family has infinite patience.
I take photo after photo, moving around the balcony for different angles. He watches me in silence.
“You keep looking at me like that, and I’ll have to charge you for portraits.” I lower the camera just long enough to meet his gaze.
He smirks. “I’d pay.”
I grin at him. It feels so good, so freeing to just smile and let it all go. To enjoy the moment without worrying about tomorrow. To know that I have all I need, right here.
When I shiver, he reaches for my hand and frowns when he finds my fingers cold. “That’s enough of this. Inside with you. You’re turning into an icicle.”
“I want to take one more?—”
“Ember.” His tone is implacable. It still makes my heart do a little somersault in my chest.
“Mmm?”
“Do what your king tells you, little queen,” he whispers in my ear. “Behave yourself.”
I know he’s right, but it’s fun to push back a little.
We head downstairs, the sound of laughter coming from the living room. I glance through the glass doors, catching a glimpse of Zoya and Polina sprawled across the plush sofa, their heads bent together as they watch something on a phone.
Yana’s gone back with her husband, but the rest of them are here still. Zoya lives here with Polina and Rafail, and though Semyon and Rodion both have a place of their own, it seems we spend more time here than anywhere else. Not that I’m complaining. This place is epic.
Semyon lounges in the corner, his arms crossed, but there’s an uncharacteristic twitch to his lips. Rafail sits near the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand, watching them all with the quiet authority of someone who doesn’t need to say much to command a room.
It all feels… normal. Strangely domestic for a Bratva family. I expected them to be colder, more aloof.
Rodion’s arm slides around my waist. “They like you, you know.”
I lean into his warmth. “And I like them,” I say softly, watching as Rafail ruffles Zoya’s hair, and she swats his hand away. “Your family.”
“They’re not always this… easy,” he says.
“I don’t need easy, Rodion. I need real.”
A sharp knock at the glass startles us. We pull away like two teens caught making out behind the school. Zoya stands on the other side of the doors, grinning at us. She motions for us to come inside, mouthing something I can’t quite make out.
Rodion presses a quick kiss to my forehead. “Let’s go. You want to see real?”
I let him pull me inside. I love it here, but I do feel a little shy around all of them.
Zoya barely waits for us to step inside before she plops down on the couch, swinging her legs over Polina’s lap. “You’re late,” she says teasingly. “We saved you a seat, but you were too busy making out.”
Polina snickers and playfully smacks Zoya’s leg. “Behave, little sister. I told you they’d come in eventually.”
Rodion huffs, guiding me to a vacant loveseat. “You’re lucky we put up with you two.”
Rafail’s gaze flickers toward us. “Part of the deal. Family, you know.”
Family.
I do know.
I clear my throat and decide to dive right into what’s been plaguing me. “Has there been any… you know… talk or blowback of whatever because of Shawn?”
“Yes,” Rafail says soberly, meeting my gaze. “Several women have come forward to the press in California, stating that he sexually harassed them at work, and one says she’s a former girlfriend he assaulted. The general consensus is that they’re glad he’s missing but not surprised.”
“There’s even talk online from a few women saying they hoped the women he hurt finally banded together to bring, what did they say… poetic justice. ”
My heart aches. It isn’t the answer I expected. Rodion’s hand squeezes my knee.
Now that Shawn is gone, it feels like I can start rebuilding in a way I couldn’t before, when I was always looking over my shoulder, always waiting for the next shoe to drop.
“This has all made me think, Ember.” Rodion’s gaze snaps to Rafail as if he doesn’t know what to expect. I wait myself.
“Yes?”
“Maybe you should start doing your book reviews again.”
I feel my jaw drop open. “What?”
The room stills for half a second.
I don’t know if the rest of them know how much this matters to me. I was willing to table it all for the sake of his family, but it feels as if I lost a part of me in the process.
“You… want me to pick up reviews again?”
Rafail leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You can thank Zoya for this. She pointed out that no one will ever actually believe that you married into a Bratva family. Even if the media or commenters catch on, it will seem like it’s part of the fun of it all.”
Polina grins. “It’s true. You look way too innocent.”
“Thanks?” I laugh, tucking my hair behind my ear. My cheeks feel hot. Rodion’s arm falls heavily over my shoulders.
“She’s right,” Zoya chimes in. “Think about it. No one thinks of us as… well, normal. But you? You break that stereotype.” Her eyes shine with something I can’t quite place. Pride? “Plus,” she continues, shaking her head. “I haven’t had a good book rec in ages , and I’m dying for another.”
I laugh. “I can give you plenty one on one.”
Zoya’s eyes shine bright. “It’s not the same , Ember. Plus, I’m not the only one who wants to hear from you.”
She’s right. I look down at my hands, suddenly bashful. I still get messages and emails from my friends, and the truth is… I miss it. I think I’d see the book world in a whole new light now.
Like my photography, my love of all things romance is a part of who I am, an extension of my hopes and dreams. I live through the pages of my books in a way that’s hard to explain. I love romance because it’s a constant reminder that even normal people deserve to be loved, that it’s healthy to want to dream, and that everyone deserves a happy ending.
“Maybe this is Rafail’s version of a local gala,” Rodion whispers in my ear. “Charming the locals and all that.”
I turn toward Rafail. “I don’t know if my unhinged book reviews will… butter up the locals.”
He shrugs. “We’ll see.”
For a moment, I don’t respond. They’ve offered an olive branch. It’s not just the suggestion but the knowledge that I belong here. This family that I expected to keep me at arm’s length is drawing me in. It’s the underlying acceptance beneath it.
Rodion presses a kiss to my temple. The book world had one thing right: it is the very sweetest thing to be kissed that way. I stifle the need to ask him to do it again.
“See?” he whispers in my ear. “Told you they like you.”
I nudge him playfully. “Careful, I might start believing I belong here.”
“Woman,” Rodion growls in my ear. I shiver and lean in closer.
“God, get a room,” Semyon says, but his eyes twinkle at us.
I don’t know what I expected from them, but it wasn’t this.
I settle deeper into Rodion’s side, appreciating the warmth of him beside me. It’s hard to imagine that only a few months ago, I only dreamed of a Bratva boyfriend, and now… here I am. His family— our family—keeps talking, laughing, filling the space with a comfort I didn’t know I craved. Because even though they live by a code of ethics I never knew, the undying loyalty that weaves them all together makes me feel part of something so much bigger.
Polina looks over at me. As I’ve come to get to know her better, I’ve been drawn to her resilience and down-to-earth nature. “So? What’s your first review going to be, Ember?”
“Ooh, I don’t know. But definitely something Bratva , no?”
Zoya gasps, sitting up straighter. “You must have at least ten books waiting for you by now!”
“Minimum,” I say with a laugh.
Rodion’s hand tightens at my waist. “Careful, little queen. You’ll start giving them ideas.”
“Sorry, not sorry,” I mutter, which gets me a vicious tickle. “Hey!”
But the question lingers in the back of my mind long after the laughter dies down. Can I go back to the way things were before? It seems like the old Ember is a different person. She’s not gone… but changed.
I used to sit in my apartment alone, making sure the spider cracks in the walls and the peeling paint didn’t make it into the videos. I hid behind a string of fairy lights, glowing about the latest book boyfriend… and now that I have a book boyfriend of my very own, the fairy tale doesn’t hold the same appeal.
Or does it?
Just because this is my life now doesn’t mean I can’t still live a thousand other lives in the pages of my books. Isn’t that what it’s all about? Not just finding the most perfect book boyfriend but… finding friends. Being understood. Feeling heard.
Finding love of all different kinds. Romantic, yes, but so much more—I look around the room at sweet Zoya and Polina, Semyon and Rafail.
Zoya throws a pillow at Semyon when he teases her again, and Rafail calmly palms the pillow and gives them both a warning look. Polina tugs on his shirt sleeve and whispers something in his ear that makes him soften a bit.
I take in a slow breath and release it.
This is my life now.
“Maybe I’ll start with that latest book they’re all talking about? The one about the girl who felt like she didn’t belong anywhere… but found her home in the most unexpected place.”
Polina grins. “Sounds like a bestseller to me.”