Chapter 11
Dmitri
The estate had been transformed into a winter wonderland that looked like something out of a Christmas fairy tale.
Every surface glittered with white and silver—frosted garland twisted with holly and mistletoe, touched with deep crimson accents and gold tinsel that reminded everyone this wasn't just any wedding—it was ours, and it was Christmas.
Ice sculptures lined the grand entrance—swans frozen mid-flight, wolves howling at a crystalline moon, and at the center, a sculpture of a king and queen intertwined, so detailed you could see the crown on her head and the protective way his arms wrapped around her.
Evergreen wreaths adorned with red velvet ribbons hung between each sculpture, their pine fragrance mingling with cinnamon and clove.
Ten-foot Christmas trees flanked either side of the aisle, each one covered in thousands of white lights and crystal ornaments that caught the light like diamonds.
Candy canes in silver and white hung alongside glass icicles, and at the top of each tree, brilliant stars blazed.
White roses and deep red peonies cascaded down from enormous arrangements, their fragrance mixing with pine and the spiced warmth of mulled wine that perfumed the winter air.
The ceiling of the ballroom had been draped with sheer white fabric that billowed like clouds, and from it hung hundreds of crystal chandeliers shaped like snowflakes and stars.
Snowflakes engineered to fall and disappear before they touched anyone drifted down in a constant, magical stream, as if we were standing inside a snow globe.
The aisle was lined with lanterns, each one glowing with warm candlelight and decorated with sprigs of holly and red berries, creating a pathway that looked like it led straight to heaven.
White fur runners cushioned every step, and rose petals that were white, cream, and the deepest red, were scattered like drops of blood on snow, mingling with gold and silver confetti that sparkled like Christmas magic.
I stood at the altar, Cori beside me as my best man, trying not to look as nervous as I felt. I'd faced down armed enemies without flinching, but waiting for Natasha to walk down that aisle? That had my heart hammering in my chest.
The orchestra began playing a hauntingly beautiful version of "Carol of the Bells" that sent chills down everyone's spine. Dark. Romantic. Perfect for us.
And then the doors opened.
My breath stopped.
Natasha stood there, backlit by soft golden light, and she looked like every fantasy I'd ever had brought to life.
Her dress was a masterpiece made of white silk that hugged every curve before flowing out into a dramatic train that seemed to go on forever.
The bodice was covered in crystals and pearls that caught the light with every breath she took, making her shimmer like freshly fallen snow.
Her veil was cathedral-length, attached to a crystal crown that sat perfectly in her dark hair. She looked like the princess I'd always told her she was. My princess. My queen.
She carried a bouquet of white roses, red hypericum berries, and winter greenery tied with deep crimson ribbon. And when her eyes met mine down that long aisle, everything else disappeared.
Her father looked equal parts proud and terrified, walked her slowly toward me. Each step felt like an eternity. I wanted to rush down there and carry her the rest of the way, but I forced myself to wait. To let her have this moment.
When she finally reached me, her father placed her hand in mine, leaned in to whisper something to her that made her eyes well up, then gave me a look that clearly said you hurt her and I don't care who you are.
Fair enough.
"Hi," she whispered, looking up at me with those eyes that owned every piece of me.
"Hi, princess," I murmured back, unable to stop myself from brushing my thumb over her knuckles. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
Her smile was tremulous, happy, perfect.
The officiant began speaking, but I barely heard him. I was too focused on Natasha and the way her hand trembled in mine, the tear that escaped down her cheek, the way she kept biting her lip to keep from crying.
When it came time for vows, I went first.
"Natasha," I began, my voice rough with emotion I didn't bother hiding.
"I vow to protect you with everything I have.
To love you with a fierceness that scares me.
To give you the world you deserve, even when I don't deserve you.
" I paused, swallowing hard. "I vow to be completely yours, exclusively, obsessively yours, until my last breath and beyond. "
"I vow to make you laugh, to keep you safe, to fuck up sometimes but always find my way back to you." A ripple of soft laughter went through the crowd, and Natasha's smile widened. "I vow to build a life with you that's worth all the darkness we've survived to get here."
I leaned in slightly, voice dropping.
"And I vow to remind you every single day that you're mine, and I'm yours, and nothing in this world will ever change that."
Tears streamed freely down her face now, and I reached up to brush them away with my thumb.
Then it was her turn.
"Dmitri," she started, voice shaking but strong. "You saw me when I was invisible. You made me feel safe when I was terrified. You loved me when I didn't think I was worthy of being loved."
She squeezed my hands.
"I vow to stand beside you in your darkness and your light. To be your home when the world feels hostile. To love every twisted, complicated, beautiful part of you without reservation."
Her voice grew steadier.
"I vow to be your partner, your queen, your safe place. I vow to trust you with my heart even when it's scary. To build this life with you, whatever that looks like."
She smiled through her tears.
"And I vow to remind you every single day that you're mine. And that's all that matters."
I didn't wait for the officiant to give permission. I pulled her to me and kissed her, deep and claiming and full of every promise we'd just made. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers, but I didn't care. All I cared about was the woman in my arms, finally, legally, irrevocably mine.
When we broke apart, the officiant cleared his throat with an amused smile. "Well, I suppose I should make it official. By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."
More cheers. More applause.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "Mr. and Mrs. Dimitri and Natasha Volkov!"
I swept Natasha up in my arms, making her laugh as I carried her back down the aisle. Poinsettia petals fell from above like snow, and as we passed under the archway decorated with white roses and evergreen, I leaned down to whisper in her ear.
"You're stuck with me now, princess. Forever."
"Good," she whispered back, wrapping her arms around my neck. "That's exactly where I want to be."
The reception was held in the grand ballroom, which had been transformed into something out of a Christmas winter dream.
The ceiling was draped with more white fabric and crystals, strings of twinkling lights woven through like stars, creating the illusion of being inside a snow globe on Christmas Eve.
More ice sculptures decorated the space, ice bars serving premium vodka and champagne alongside eggnog and peppermint schnapps, an ice fountain that flowed with something that sparkled and shimmered like liquid silver, ice thrones where Natasha and I would sit, each one carved with snowflakes and winter crowns.
She insisted on hot cocoa topped with whipped cream and crushed candy canes, spiced apple cider, and winter coffee.
Any of which could be spiked with Irish cream, bourbon, or any other alcohol.
The scent of cinnamon sticks and orange peel simmering in the cider filled the air.
The tables were covered in white silk with crimson runners embroidered with gold thread in patterns of holly and ivy, each centerpiece a towering arrangement of white roses, red amaryllis, and frosted branches dusted with artificial snow that reached toward the ceiling.
Pinecones dipped in gold nestled among the flowers, and strings of cranberries wound through the greenery.
Crystal candelabras glowed with real candles that smelled of vanilla and pine, and every place setting included crystal glassware etched with snowflakes and gold-rimmed china.
Small gift boxes wrapped in white paper and red velvet ribbon sat at each seat as favors for our guests to take home a piece of our Christmas wedding.
Our cake was a masterpiece—six tiers of white fondant decorated with hand-painted winter scenes of snow-covered forests and Christmas villages, sugar flowers dusted with edible glitter, holly leaves with crimson berries, and edible gold leaf that caught the candlelight.
Delicate icicles made of spun sugar dripped from each tier.
At the top stood two figurines that actually looked like us.
Her in her dress with a tiny Christmas rose in her hand, me in my black tux, my arm possessively around her waist, surrounded by miniature snow-dusted pine trees and a tiny Christmas star above our heads.
We did our first dance to a slowed-down, orchestral version of "Butterflyz" by Alicia Keys. A dark, romantic, intimate choice that she insisted on. She explained to me that it’d been how she felt when I’d claimed her the first time all those years ago.
Though she hadn’t believed me at first, something inside her hoped that it was true.
I held Natasha close, one hand on her waist, the other cradling her hand against my chest.
"Happy?" I murmured against her temple.
"Deliriously," she whispered back. "This is perfect. You're perfect."
"Not perfect, princess. Just yours."
"Same thing," she said with a soft smile.
When the song ended, I dipped her dramatically, earning applause and wolf whistles from our guests. Then the party truly began.
Georgi gave a speech that had everyone laughing and some people crying—talking about how she'd never seen me smile until Natasha came into my life, how Natasha had "tamed the beast" which earned her a glare from me, and how she'd kill anyone who tried to hurt either of us.
Cori's speech was shorter but equally heartfelt, talking about loyalty, family, and finding someone worth building a life with. I didn't miss his stolen glances at Georgi or how ‘what's her face’ wasn't around anymore.
Food was served as a feast fit for royalty. Filet mignon, lobster tail, truffle risotto, and every decadent thing you could imagine. Wine and champagne flowed freely.
And through it all, I couldn't take my eyes off my wife. The word ‘wife’ settled in my chest like a brand. One I held with the utmost regard.
As midnight approached, we cut the cake together, her hand over mine on the knife. She fed me a bite, then I fed her one, resisting the urge to lick the frosting from her lips in front of everyone.
"Later," she whispered, reading my mind. "You can have me all to yourself later."
"Counting on it, Mrs. Volkov."
Her smile was radiant and it took everything in me not to fuck her right here in front of everybody so she’d know how much I adored her. I vowed from this moment forward that I’d keep making her eyes light up the way they were right now. It was the key to the smile she wore effortlessly.
As the night wore on, snow began to fall outside the massive windows—real snow this time, blanketing the grounds in white.
Like everything else about this day, it was perfect.
At one point, I found Natasha standing by one of the windows, watching the snow fall, her crown still perfectly in place, her dress glowing in the soft light.
I came up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulled her back against my chest.
"Thank you," I murmured into her hair.
"For what?"
"For saying yes. For this. For being mine."
She turned in my arms, looking up at me with those eyes that held my entire world.
"Thank you for asking," she whispered. "For choosing me. For giving me this fairy tale."
I cupped her face in my hands. "You deserve every fairy tale, princess. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you get them. Merry Christmas, princess."
“Merry Christmas, Dmitri.”
I kissed her then, soft and sweet and full of promises, as snow fell outside and our guests celebrated around us. This was it. This was everything.
My beautiful, twisted, perfect love story with the only woman who'd ever made me want to be more than a monster.
My wife.
My Natasha.
Forever.