Chapter 51 – One Month Later
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
FIONA
ONE MONTH LATER
It’s hard to let things go. Especially the things that once defined you. The things you clung to like lifelines because they made sense in a world that didn’t.
But sometimes those very things—the beliefs, the convictions, the iron-clad rules you built your identity around—start to feel like chains instead of anchors. They stop fitting, and letting them go isn’t weakness. It’s growth.
Or at least that’s what I tell myself when I think about how much my life has shifted in just a few short weeks.
A month ago, I thought I knew who I was. Now I sit behind a desk I never imagined would belong to me, in an office with my name on the glass, and it still doesn’t feel real.
The sun spills across the polished surface—mine, all of it mine.
I run my fingers along the edge, almost expecting it to vanish beneath my touch.
Like I’ll blink and find myself back in the DA’s office.
Back in my scratchy government-issued chair.
Back to being a woman who thought justice was black and white.
But I’m not that woman anymore.
Quitting wasn’t easy. I spent years carving a place for myself in that office, and walking away felt like cutting a piece out of my own chest.
My mother didn’t help. She practically danced when I told her I was going to become a defense attorney and open up my own firm. Made a few comments about the irony, about me finally loosening the death grip I had on my moral compass. I let her have her fun. She deserved that moment, I suppose.
But this new life isn’t about irony. It’s about finally choosing for myself. Not out of fear or obligation, but because I want it.
Because I want him.
And maybe that makes me na?ve or weak. But if loving Aleksei has taught me anything, it’s that the world is never just one thing. People aren’t either. Not even me.
I’ve made peace with my parents. I’ve forgiven them, not because what they did was small or easy to forget, but because I had to. For my own sake. For the sake of everything I still want from this life.
Forgiveness wasn’t easy. But for me, it wasn’t about condoning it. It was about survival. About letting go of the bitterness before it swallowed me whole.
My parents are not bad people. They just did a bad thing.
And maybe that’s something we all have in common. Being flawed and scared and human. Making choices we think we can live with until we realize too late that we can’t. The only thing that matters right now is that I’m okay and they’re okay. The rest is in the past where it belongs.
A knock pulls me from my thoughts, and I lift my gaze toward the door just as it eases open, Dana leaning her head inside with a crooked smile tugging at her mouth.
“Well, well, counselor. You look damn good behind that desk.”
I rise to my feet, giving her a quick hug. “Oh, shut up.”
She struts inside, dropping a hand to her hip as she checks out the large space. “So, this is the famous office, huh? Swanky. Classy. Very you.”
“How’s the DA’s office treating you without me?”
Dana raises a brow and drops into the chair across from mine. “Not nearly as well as your new firm’s about to treat me. That is, if you’ll have me.”
I jerk back, leaning against the edge of the desk before her. “Wait…are you serious?”
“Absolutely. Did you think I’d let you leave without dragging me along?”
“Dana…” Emotion knots in my throat.
“Don’t get mushy on me. Just say yes, because I already ordered new business cards.”
“I was secretly hoping you’d come with me. I just didn’t want to be selfish and ask.”
She snorts. “Please. With what you’ll be paying me? I’d be an idiot not to. Boss.”
I shake my head, a grin tugging at my lips before it disappears. “So, there’s something else we need to discuss…”
The discomfort grows; I don’t know how she will process the news of the man I’m married to, but I won’t hide it anymore.
“And what’s that?” She leans closer, as though bracing for whatever I’m about to say.
“So…” I lift my left hand, and that’s when she catches my rings.
“Holy shit.” Her eyes grow. “Who? How? When? I have too many questions.”
“That’s the funny part.” I nip at my bottom lip. “Or maybe the not-so-funny part, depends on how you take it.”
“Okay, did you marry a serial killer or something?” She laughs.
My face twists in a grimace. “Well…”
“Wait, I was kidding. Did you?” she whispers. “Oh my God, just spill it out because there are too many things floating in my head right now.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Do you remember Aleksei Marinov?”
“The sexy Russian criminal you spent months trying to rail—I mean nail? Of course I do.” Her mouth quirks up, and then her brows shoot up as realization hits.
“No way! Are you fucking kidding me? And you kept it from me? Wait…” Her hand cups her mouth.
“He’s the secret guy, isn’t he? He’s the one who saved you that night you got drugged? ”
I nod.
“Holy crap. For once in my life, I don’t know what to say.”
“Some days, neither do I.”
The shock of it all still hasn’t left her face. “But why would you marry him? I don’t get it. You hate him.”
“I did. But things got…well, complicated. It had a lot to do with saving my parents’ vineyard, and he was the only one willing to help.”
“Shit. He told you you’d have to marry him before he’d help, right? Wow. This is like a movie.”
“Yeah. A movie. Sure.” I let out a short chuckle. “I haven’t told very many people. Well, actually, no one knows aside from our families. And Emilia, of course.”
“Don’t worry, I can keep your secret.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t even know if I want it to be a secret anymore, because I’m actually happy.”
“Well, that’s great, then.” She shrugs. “Life is too short. If marrying a sexy murderer makes you happy, I say good for you.”
“You always know just what to say.” I roll my eyes playfully.
“I know, right? Aren’t you happy you’re going to have me here with you?”
“You have no idea.”
I mean that, because knowing she’ll be by my side in this new beginning makes all the difference.
When I get home, the door opens before I can touch it, one of Aleksei’s men stepping aside as I walk in to find Aleksei already waiting.
His jacket’s off, shirtsleeves rolled, collar open just enough to expose the skin I ache to touch. And that smile—God, that wicked, knowing curve of his lips—is aimed at me like a weapon.
“Zdravstvuy, moya zhena.” Hello, my wife.
Thankfully, my Russian has been coming along in these last few weeks.
He closes the distance in a few long strides, arms wrapping around me before I can reply. His mouth brushes mine in a kiss that starts soft, then deepens, stealing the breath right out of me.
“I’m sorry I’m late.”
The words barely leave my lips before he’s backing me against the nearest wall, one hand sliding to the side of my neck, the other gripping my hip like he intends to leave his mark there.
“Never apologize.” The words ghost over my lips as he kisses me again, harder this time, his nose trailing up the line of my throat while he breathes me in like he has been starving for the scent of my skin. “I missed you,” he whispers as my fingers thread into his hair, tugging him closer.
“I missed you too.”
For a moment, neither of us moves as we breathe each other in, his forehead pressed to mine, our bodies flush, his thumb tracing circles at my waist like he can’t quite let go. And I don’t want him to.
“Is everyone here?”
His lips graze my temple as he answers, low enough for only me to hear. “Yes. But we waited for you.”
He threads his fingers through mine and guides me toward the dining room, and the moment we step inside, a smile pulls at my mouth.
Our family fills the room, voices weaving over one another, laughter warming every corner.
For a moment, I just stand there taking it in, loving the sight of all of us together.
As soon as they see me, conversations fade and faces turn. Emilia rises immediately and wraps me in a hug before I go to my parents. My father kisses my cheek and reaches for the chair beside him, but Aleksei already steers me to the seat next to him with a gentle pressure at my back.
Across the table, my mother sits with Kirill, apparently teaching him Italian.
“No, no,” she says, waving a finger at him like a schoolteacher. “It’s vorrei del vino, not vo-ray de weeno.”
Kirill raises an unimpressed brow, muttering something in Russian, and my mother gasps.
“Was that a curse word?” she demands, laughing even as she swats at him with a cloth napkin.
“I will try again.” Kirill clears his throat and butchers it again. “That’s it. I give up.”
“Eh.” My mother scoffs. “Giving up is for pussies.”
“Mom!”
Kirill laughs, while my father looks mortified.
“Porca miseria, Angelica! Come on.”
“What? I speak the truth.”
They go on like this back and forth, Kirill teaching her some Russian, and her with Italian.
I stare at my dad for a bit as he sips on his wine, looking genuinely relaxed for the first time in forever. This is our life now, and they can finally breathe a little easier.
Across from Dad, Emilia rests her head on Konstantin’s shoulder. When she catches my eyes, a smile spreads.
I love you, she mouths, and I give it right back.
My gaze then drifts to Lev, his small body curled over a thick book, fingertips gliding across the page as he reads to himself, completely absorbed, his headphones snug over his ears. He glances up briefly, his eyes scanning the room until they find mine.
He doesn’t smile or wave, simply looking at me, and it’s enough to make me wonder what it would feel like to have a son of our own. A child with Aleksei’s eyes and my stubbornness, or maybe the other way around.
My hand drifts to my stomach before I catch myself, smoothing down my blouse instead.
As the table erupts in laughter again—this time at my father trying to pronounce “zdrastvuyte” and butchering it worse than Kirill did Italian—I lean into Aleksei’s side, my head resting on his shoulder as he slides an arm around me.
It’s not just love I feel. It’s home.
But the thought that’s been building in my chest for days won’t stay down any longer. My pulse beats faster as I tilt my head toward him.
I’m terrified. I don’t know what he’ll do with this news, but I’ll burst if I keep it to myself any longer.
“Can we talk? Privately?” I ask him.
His brows knit, that protective edge already sharpening behind his eyes. “Of course, lyubov moya. Come.”
He stands, his palm warm against the small of my back as he leads me out of the dining room, the laughter and chatter fading behind us. The kitchen is quiet, and for a moment, I can’t seem to find the right words. My palms are clammy, my throat dry.
“I know this is too soon.” I glance down at the marble counter before meeting his curious stare. “And we’ve never really discussed it, but I think I forgot the pill a few days, and—”
He stiffens instantly. “What?”
My heart races as the words tumble out. “Ya beremenna.”
His eyes widen, the Russian catching him off guard. “Did you just say…” He cradles my cheek. “Fiona, what are you saying?”
“I’m pregnant, Aleksei.” My voice trembles, despite my best efforts to steady it. “You’re going to be a daddy.”
For a moment, there’s only silence. The air between us is heavy enough to crush me. His expression shifts with shock, disbelief, maybe even fear, and my stomach recoils.
Shit. What if he never wanted this? What if this will ruin everything we’ve rebuilt?
Then suddenly, he grins, slow at first and then fully. Beautifully. And the sight knocks the air out of me.
He lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh and shakes his head before lifting me clean off my feet, spinning me around. “You have just given me the best news of my life.”
“Aleksei,” I whisper through tears as he kisses me.
He pulls back just enough to see my face, his thumb sweeping along my jaw with a softness that makes my chest tighten. “I love you. You and this little one…you are everything to me.”
“I love you too, Aleksei.”
A low growl rumbles out of him before he lifts me off the floor in one smooth motion, spinning me as I laugh. “We have to tell the family.”
“Okay,” I manage between giggles as he sets me down, his hands firm at my hips.
Suddenly, he drops to his knees and rests his cheek against my stomach, whispering something in Russian I can’t decipher, but feel everywhere. His fingers curl around the backs of my thighs, holding me there before he presses a kiss to my stomach.
My own emotions hit me, and when he rises, his stare is filled with affection he doesn’t bother hiding.
The moment we reenter the dining room, conversation stops cold.
Kirill’s attention moves to me, then to Aleksei with a flicker of curiosity. “Are you okay? You are smiling too much, brother. It is scaring me.”
Aleksei ignores him entirely, his hand still firm on my waist. “I’m going to be a father.”
For one long second, silence reigns. Then the room erupts all at once—shouts, laughter, congratulations.
Emilia reaches me first, wrapping me up so tightly I stumble back a step. “I can’t believe we’re pregnant together.”
“I know,” I laugh, the joy bubbling up in my chest.
My parents sweep in, both of them pulling me into a hug, my mom already tearing up. Across the table, Aleksei’s brothers congratulate him too.
As I look around the room at what we’ve created, my heart feels too full for my body. Whatever came before, whatever darkness we walked through to get here, it led us to this.
Our future. Our family.
And for the first time, I truly believe we’ll have it all.