Epilogue
Cecilia
Two months later
The sun is like a warm, gentle hand on my face.
After endless months of harsh weather and curling up in bed by the fireplace, spring is finally in full bloom.
A buzzing, curious bumblebee flies past my ear, landing on a yellow flower at my feet.
Above, a blackbird brings moss back to its nest, flying out again a few seconds later.
I lie back on the grass, watching the canopy of trees breathe around me, the air fresh and sweet.
It’s different here, in Alemont City, the contrast between seasons much sharper than it was back home.
Home…
The image of my father’s palazzo ambushes my thoughts, yet no emotion latches onto it.
No belonging, no anger, no regret. Nothing.
A testament to the emptiness pulsing in my chest every morning I woke up there.
Back then, I didn’t know who I was; I wasn’t allowed to exist outside of my father’s control. Now, everything’s different.
A whooshing sound gets my attention, and before I get to turn to see who or what it is, my husband plops down on the grass next to me, wearing a brand new tailored Brioni suit he doesn’t seem to care about ruining.
He lies back with his hands behind his head, eyes closed, and a serene smile plastered on those lush lips I haven’t kissed all day.
“There you are,” he murmurs, making my heart flutter. “Been looking for you everywhere.”
My lips spread as I set my head on top of his chest, greedily inhaling his smoky scent. “Just enjoying the sun. I’ve missed it.”
“I’ve missed you.” His hand idly begins roaming through my hair, sending tingles and goosebumps all over my body.
“Where were you this morning?”
“Out. Increasing my odds.”
I quirk a brow, amusement seeping into my eyes. Always so cryptic. “What for?”
“You. I’m hoping you’ll say yes to something, sweetheart.”
At that, I get up on my elbow, watching him with curiosity. He opens his eyes, and the torment I once saw swimming there doesn’t stare back at me for once. He’s been different over the past couple of weeks. Calmer. More present. I’m surprised he left at all this morning.
“Last time we negotiated something, it ended poorly,” I say, remembering the bowl of caviar I brought him in the basement when he’d asked for cigarettes.
He offers a lazy, delicious shrug. “Not for me, it didn’t. I never needed the cigarettes. Just you.”
“All the more reason not to negotiate with you again. You play dirty.”
“Yes. And you love it.”
I roll my eyes jokingly, lying back on the grass with my face up toward the sky.
A moment later, he shifts and hovers above me, propping himself on one elbow.
His lips touch mine—a slow, delirious caress that brings every atom in my body to a dangerous boil.
My hand pulls him closer by his shirt, and he groans, his voice a low timbre as his free hand slides up my thigh, squeezing my flesh.
“Yes,” I whisper, melting into every single one of his touches, basking in the minty taste of his tongue. “Yes to anything you’re asking me.” I don’t need to know what it is. I trust my husband with my life. I want everything with him.
He chuckles, kissing me again, harder this time, his eyes gleaming under the sunlight like enchanted emeralds. Under my long skirt, my panties grow wetter, my pussy throbbing softly with need. When he breaks the kiss again, I can’t hide the pout forming on my lips.
“So needy,” he muses, seemingly fascinated by the reactions of my body, even if we’ve done this countless times before.
After taking me in every position imaginable, he’s still as greedy to explore me as he’s always been.
I love it. “But not here. The next time I take you, I want it to be somewhere new.”
“What’s wrong with here?” I plead, pulling him into another kiss.
He smiles. “Here isn’t our home.”
As the afternoon stretches on, we leave Alemont City behind, city thinning into nothing but sky and land. It’s just the two of us in the car, plus a bunch of guards following us in another. We haven’t stopped yet, but I have a feeling I know where he’s taking me.
The salty, humid air hums against my skin through the open window, like an old friend who hasn’t forgotten me.
The ocean comes into view on my right, churning and endless, my soul flickering in recognition.
I close my eyes, breathing it in, a flood of happy memories from when my mother was alive hitting me.
This scent…I never realized just how much I missed it.
Opening my eyes again, I turn to look at my husband in the driver’s seat, his gaze already on me, on the emotion I’m undoubtedly displaying on my face.
He would stare and stare, I realize, if he didn’t have to continue driving.
I would gladly let him. He knew exactly what bringing me here would mean to me.
And when he pulls out in front of a white beach house, I cock my head, smiling.
“You did not…” I say.
He throws me a knowing look, getting out of the car and rounding it to open the door for me.
I take his hand and step onto the front walk that winds to the property.
It’s windy and a little cold, but I’m too enamored by the view to feel any kind of discomfort: the sky, clear of any clouds, the horizon meshing with the endless mass of water, and my husband, who stands with his back to the ocean, handsome and tall like a god who always watches over me.
It looks like a postcard, this image, from a home that’s been waiting for me.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Mikhail murmurs, wrapping me in his arms. “You know what that does to me.”
I laugh, because my tears aren’t violent or sad—right now, there’s only gratitude in my heart.
“Want to go inside?” he asks.
I nod, and he leads us to the front door, unlocking it with a brand new set of keys. Then, he steps aside.
I enter first, slowly, swirling as I walk to take it all in.
The decor is light, breezy, in shades of sandy neutrals and whitewashed tones, the furniture heavy with a timeless cottage charm.
There’s nothing flashy and outrageous about it, but it screams quiet luxury, cozy and welcoming. There’s so much light…so much air.
My fingers brush the hard walls and the soft upholstery, my body buzzing with enthusiasm.
“Five rooms, excluding the living room. A large study where we can put your piano. 400 feet of private beach. And a 210-degree view so you can watch the sunset and the sunrise from the same deck,” my husband says.
“Bring my…piano?” I ask. Does that mean…he wants us to live here permanently?
He plops down in a fluffy armchair, pulling me into his lap, my legs straightening over the armrest. Behind him, a large window offers an expansive view of the ocean. The thought of being able to wake up to this every morning makes my heart skip a beat.
Running a hand through my hair, he says, “I know how much you missed this and what a big part it has played in your life. I wanted you to have that again. If you like it, we’ll stay.”
“What about your work? I thought you’d said yes to Wolfgang about being his sovietnik.”
“It’s only two hours from Alemont City, so I can easily go back and forth when I’m needed. You don’t need to worry about that. But if you’d rather just use this place as a vacation spot, we can do that too. Just tell me what you want. It’s ours either way.”
Ours. I like the sound of that.
I look around, breathing in the fresh air, imagining what it’ll look like once we make it our home.
Me, playing the piano with the windows open, curtains flapping in the breeze and the sun skittering through.
Him, sun-kissed and playful as we go swimming in the morning before he takes me on every surface.
Us, living here together, unbothered. Happy.
I find myself touching my belly without thinking.
“What about Wolf and Victoria? When would I see them again?” I ask, realizing I probably won’t be seeing my friend as much if we’re here.
“They’re moving out of the estate as well. Wolf says the house holds too many bad memories and wants Victoria as far away from our parents as possible.”
I nod, the decision settled. I don’t want Mikhail forced to live near his parents either when they return from Moscow. The things he told me about them weren’t pretty.
“Five rooms…” I muse, looking around the space. “Yes, that will be enough. One for us…one for guests…then one for the baby.” I look up, my breath halting as I search for a reaction in his eyes.
We haven’t been using any sort of protection since our first night together. I found out I was pregnant only this morning and haven’t had the time to process it. Do I even want a baby? I have never even considered it, but now, the idea of starting a family together sounds dreamy.
A wide smile stares back at me as he leans his head against the backrest, looking serene.
“You don’t seem surprised,” I say, biting my lower lip.
He takes my hand and kisses my palm. “You were late. Again. And I’ve been hoping—”
“You already knew…”
“I love watching you, Cecilia. Love being the first to notice things about you. Love being the one you can depend on to fix problems before you even realize they exist. You give me purpose. And now, with the baby…” He leaves out a breath.
“You have no idea how fucking excited I am to hear you say those words.” He brushes his thumb against my chin.
“Fuck, sweetheart, I just… I want to give you everything. I love you so much that, every day, I’m scared I’ll open my eyes to find you’re not real. ”
I swallow the flood of overwhelming emotion, wrapping my hand around his wrist. “I’m real. We’re real. I’m yours, and I want everything with you for the rest of our lives. I didn’t think I could love you more than I already did, but you gave me this baby, and I…I’m so happy, Mikhail.”