Chapter 47
LYRA
“Tell me honestly—does this dress work, or am I kidding myself?”
“It works. And you’re crazy if you think otherwise.”
“Elena.”
“You look radiant, Lyra, truly.” She leans in, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “You’ll have to forgive me—I’ve been drinking champagne since four o’clock this afternoon, so my usual eloquence might not be as it should. But you look like a dream.”
She takes a step back, cocking her head a bit as she glances at my belly.
“Is that…”
“Don’t say it.”
“A bump?”
“It can’t be. This soon?”
“You’re eight weeks along. I was showing at eight weeks with both of mine. That’s how I know you’re meant to be a Volkov—you bloom early, just like us.” She smiles brightly, overwhelmed by happiness in the moment, then kisses my cheek.
I turn, taking in the sights. The ballroom is dimly lit. There’s a string quartet in the corner, and 500 guests move in the choreographed flow of an event perfectly planned.
“Thank you,” I tell her.
Elena looks around, shaking her head as if in disbelief.
“I still can’t believe you assembled this while pregnant and recovering from a bruised rib.”
“Julian wanted to postpone it. I said not a chance.”
She laughs. “That’s the spirit.”
I take a sip of my mocktail. “No way can the Foundation afford to go dark just because my rib hurts a little. And besides, I wanted to wash away the bad taste the little incident at the last one might’ve left in people’s mouths.”
“I think you’ve done it—there will be nothing but positive reviews after tonight.”
I feel like I’ve won. The ballroom is full, the donors are happy, and in this moment, I’m Elena’s favorite person.
We’ll see if that last part sticks.
“Where’s Julian?” I ask.
“Collecting Anya,” she says, then smiles again. “I almost said sister-in-law.”
Just the implication is enough to bring a blush to my face—one Elena notices.
“Oh, please,” she says, waving her hand. “It’s only a matter of time. Personally, if I were you, I’d be pestering him daily until he puts a ring on your finger.”
“No sense in rushing,” I say. “We’ve got plenty of time.”
“Well, seven months, at least.”
I laugh.
Elena cranes her neck. “Ah, there’s Ethan and Anya. Come, I need to make the rounds. I’ll deposit you with them before I perform the evening’s social niceties.”
As we weave through the crowd, people touch my arm, murmuring congratulations on the success of the event and the fundraising. My pregnancy is not public knowledge yet.
“There she is,” Ethan says as I approach. “The woman of the hour.”
I laugh. “Don’t even start.”
“I’m starting. After everything that’s happened, you have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this. And you’re out of your mind if you don’t think I’m going to compliment you.”
Anya smiles and gives Ethan’s hand a squeeze. “Behave. Don’t you know it’s bad luck to congratulate her on an event that’s not over yet?”
He smiles warmly at her, then looks around. “Still, this is amazing. I can’t believe you put this together in less than two weeks. I’ll make sure to put that in the report for tonight.”
“There’s no report for tonight,” Anya says firmly. “Let me remind you for the five hundredth time, you’re off the clock tonight and for the rest of the week, maybe for the rest of the month.”
“We’ll see about that,” he says with a wink. “Julian would get lonely without me shadowing him.”
Just then, I feel the familiar warmth of an arm as it wraps around my waist.
“Speak of the devil,” I say.
“You’ve got no idea how right you are,” Julian says as he turns me gently and gazes down into my face. Just like always, I find myself lost in those gunmetal grays.
“God, I can’t get over how damn good you look tonight,” he says. “The evening is going fantastically so far. All thanks to you.”
Part of me wants to tell him to stop. But there’s a greater part that is happy to let him keep talking.
He turns. “Yang just arrived,” he says. “Excuse me for a moment.”
“I’ll come with,” I say.
“You sure? No need for you to involve yourself in Bratva business if you prefer not to.”
“After these last couple of months, I don’t think there’s any coming back from my level of involvement. Besides, what kind of host would I be if I didn’t say hello?”
“Fair enough. Come on.”
I turn and mouth, “Be right back” to Anya and Ethan, then start across the room with Julian.
Mr. Yang is headed in our direction, crossing the ballroom with a silver-handled cane and a small sincere smile. A handful of his guards surround him.
“Mr. Yang.” Julian nods. “Welcome.”
“Mr. Volkov. Ms. Thibodeaux.” Yang appears far more relaxed than the last time I saw him. “Both of you look extraordinarily well, considering.”
“Thank you Mr. Yang,” I reply. “Considering.”
He laughs lightly. “Might I have a word with you both? I’ll make it brief—I wouldn’t dream of keeping you from your duties as hosts.”
We step into a quiet alcove near the mezzanine stairs. Yang lowers his voice.
“The arrangement has been finalized. My legal team in Shanghai signed the papers yesterday. Assuming all moves along as planned, the Pacific corridor opens next month. Manila and Ho Chi Minh in the first quarter.”
“And the terms are unchanged?” Julian asks.
“Naturally. The full original framework. There is a lot of money to be made, and I’m eager to begin.” Yang pauses, glances at me, then back to Julian. “There is one other matter that I wish to discuss—something I couldn’t put in writing, something that you both will want to hear about.”
Julian and I say nothing, waiting for him to continue.
“Alexander and Sophia were processed through a facility in Qinghai last Thursday. Very remote. Maximum security. No contact with the outside world. I… doubt they’ll survive long.”
I’m not quite sure how to feel. At one time, I cared deeply for both those people.
Julian’s expression is neutral. “And the old debt?”
“Cleared entirely. Your brother and his companion were sufficient payment. You should know—that debt was what made my original arrangement with you difficult to secure.” A small smile forms on his lips.
“But that friction no longer exists. Your enemies became my currency, Julian. Balance is restored.”
“Thank you, Chen.”
“Thank you. This arrangement will prove to be quite profitable for both of us. I look forward to reaping the rewards with you.” He turns to me. “And Miss Thibodeaux—congratulations on this evening’s event. I wish you nothing but success.”
“Thank you, Mr. Yang, truly.”
He nods at each of us, then glides back into the crowd.
I purse my lips for a moment. “I’ve been meaning to ask. Whatever happened with your stepmom?”
“Laura? Gone.”
My eyes go wide. “Dead?”
“Gone, as in out of the country. Barcelona, last I heard.” He shrugs. “She took about $2 million in jewelry from my father’s vault. She’ll surface eventually, because she won’t be able to resist meddling in Anya’s life.”
“Are you going to look for her?”
“Not right now. Laura is a coward. She’s running because it’s the only thing she knows how to do. She can either come back and face the music or live the rest of her life looking over her shoulder.”
“It’s generous of you to let her have her freedom.”
“It’s dismissive. There’s a difference.” He leans in and kisses my temple. “Come. There’s something I need to do tonight, but not here.”
He leads me up the winding staircase to the mezzanine. The wrought-iron balcony overlooks the ballroom from above—hundreds of people in motion, the quartet playing something slow and sentimental, the chandeliers casting everything in a gorgeous glow.
He turns me to face him.
"Lyra."
"Julian."
"A week ago, I told you the words I should have said in New Orleans. In my penthouse. In a dozen places before that." His gray eyes are warm and eager. "Tonight, I need to say something else. And I believe that for once, I have the timing right.”
He drops to one knee.
My heart stops.
"Julian—"
He produces a small velvet box from inside his jacket and opens it. The diamond is emerald-cut and set in platinum. It’s beautifully vintage.
"This was my mother's. My father told me that the only woman who would ever wear it next was the one I decided I couldn't live without." He looks up at me. "I've waited forty-eight years to take it out of the vault.”
I gasp. There are no words.
"Marry me. Marry me, because I am going to love you until I die and beyond that.”
"Yes. Yes! A thousand times yes."
When he slides the ring onto my finger, it fits like it was meant to be there.
I drop to my knees and kiss him, slow and deep, on a mezzanine thirty feet above a ballroom full of people who have no idea that something incredible just happened above their heads.
We stay like that for a while, the quartet playing below us.
And for the first time in my life, I let myself believe in a future that doesn't have to be smaller than I deserve.