40. Mila
MILA
Two weeks later, the wait was over.
Lev and I wouldn’t be able to tell each other that we were looking forward to the rest of our lives starting.
We were married.
As of one hour ago when we stood in front of the officiant in the Volkov mansion’s ornamental garden, we were a Mr. and Mrs. Husband and wife. And still… an enforcer and a spy.
While the pressure of being the “star” of a ceremony hadn’t been as bad as I feared, I did feel more at ease and comfortable after it was over.
Lev and I exchanged our simple vows in front of a “small” gathering of Volkov friends and acquaintances.
We stood at the altar, holding each other’s hands, as we swore to honor and love each other forever.
And in that white dress I would save to someday maybe pass on to my daughter, I leaned in to kiss my husband to the light cheers and applause of those who mattered to us the most.
Now, though, as I stood with Lev, Maksim, Alexei, and Stefan Rossi, who’d flown in from New York for the occasion, I appreciated how I could be the bride and the spy.
“He’s furious,” Stefan reported of Gregori’s reaction to Yusef Antonov’s death. It’d been weeks, well over a month, since Lev had killed the lieutenant, and ripples of destruction were still rocketing through the network.
“Is that why he’s putting more pressure on the law enforcement agencies he’s been bribing?” Maksim asked wryly.
“It has to be,” Stefan said. “Has to be. He’s only going to escalate and do all he can to pick at the Bratva’s assets.”
“Then we’ll be prepared.” Lev held my hand, but now, he lifted it and kissed it. “We’ve been plotting where to hit next.”
“And here I thought you were plotting your wedding day,” the boss joked kindly.
“That was all me,” Carina bragged as she entered the discussion, hugging Maksim. “Well, me and Elena before she got too busy.”
I glanced at Elena, dancing slowly with Adrik, holding their infant.
One day, that could be me. Lev and me. With our child.
I sighed happily, content with the fact that I had all I ever could have dreamed of now. No more mantras of talking myself out of panic. No more fear and stubbornness to be defiant and independent.
I squeezed Lev’s hand and treasured how he turned to smile at me.
“We’ll be heading out to Miami next week,” Lev told the boss of the Rossi family. “If there is another contender for Yusef’s replacement, we’ll get a tracker on him. Or just cut to the chase and remove him.”
Talking about a hit on my wedding day didn’t appall me. Nothing would shock me about being a full-fledged member of the Volkov family now. And I would own up to whatever I could do to contribute.
“No honeymoon, huh?” Stefan teased.
“Not right now,” Lev said. “There’s work to be done.”
Carina pursed her lips. “But there’s work to be done in planning a wedding. Elena and I had already researched so much about honeymoon options for you.”
“Work to be done in planning a wedding?” Maksim teased her. “Oh, like you should talk.”
She gave him a saucy smile. “I know. Today is just another reminder of how our wedding was so…”
He curled her into a hug. “Meant to be?” he guessed.
“Well, yeah. But I was going to say that this wedding is like the most romantic gesture of a lifetime compared to ours.” She gazed at him adoringly, talking smack about the day she married him.
“I guess it’s not every day a couple threatens to kill each other at the altar,” he quipped before kissing her.
“Okay, hey.” Adrik approached, done dancing. “If you get her too happy, you could be asking for an early arrival too.”
Lev rolled his eyes and urged me off to the side, letting the brothers joke about Carina going into labor too soon.
“Do you think that’s true?” I asked him as we walked off, hand in hand.
“That he threatened to kill her before they exchanged their vows? Oh, yeah. I believe it.”
I laughed. No one could ever convince me that Maksim and Carina didn’t love each other deeply.
“I meant about her going into labor soon.”
He hugged me near the cake. It had already been cut, and the two tables flanking the one it was on were covered with gifts and other décor. “I bet it’s not an exact science, but I think it’s common knowledge that sex can induce labor. Or something like that.”
“I would just hate for us to be away when she goes into labor.”
He smiled down at me, linking his arms around the small of my back. “It’ll all work out.”
“First Elena. Then her.” I nodded. “We’re not in control of when we could add to the family, but maybe fate will let us pace it out a little bit.”
I smiled at the newness of thinking that far ahead. Of looking at my future as one large, blank slate of possibilities.
“Fate will intervene however it can want to, but one thing will always be true as far as I’m concerned.” He kissed me deeply.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You’re mine, Mila.”
I framed his face and urged him to lower so I could kiss him. When we parted for air, I turned my head slightly and spotted the marriage certificate that bound me to Lev. We’d signed it, and both of our names were there for the world to see.
We were legally bound together. Linked in love. Contracted to each other to uphold the commitment of loyalty and fidelity.
“That’s the only contract I ever want to have my name on,” I murmured, resting my cheek on his chest as we stood together in this embrace.
“Technically, it’s a certificate,” he teased.
I smirked at him.
“Oh, shit.” He reared back, loosening his arms around me. “I meant to do this earlier, this morning, but Carina gave me such shit about superstitions and not seeing the bride before the ceremony…” He rolled his eyes. “As if that crap is real.”
A control freak like him would never believe in superstitions. Staying close as he kept one arm around my back, I watched him pull something out of the inner pocket of his tux jacket.
“I wanted to prove that I’ll never own you per a contract or piece of paper,” he said seriously.
Holding out the rumpled paper that the Hernandez Cartel member had given him that hot day in the desert, he studied my face.
“Is that…” I narrowed my eyes as he moved his arm toward one of the many centerpieces that included a decorative bowl of water with floating candles bobbing at the shallow surface.
He lowered the corner of the paper to the flames. They licked up the material, consuming it with smoke and burnt fibers. Before it could singe his fingertips, he released it to smoke and burn to nothing in the bowl.
“You already do own me,” I told him, my heart racing with the symbolism of what he’d done.
He cupped my face and gazed into my eyes. In his, I saw his soul, the other half that matched with mine.
“You own my heart, Lev,” I vowed.
I trembled under the tenderness of his responding kiss.
“And you have mine,” he whispered against my lips.
I did.
And I would always choose to protect his heart that beat in sync with mine to the rhythm of undying love.