Chapter 23
Rurik
I stood at the altar, waiting for my children and bride to walk down the aisle. Akim was our translator, but Maksim and Artyom also stood by me. My parents sat at the front pew holding hands. My father spoke a little English, but my mother didn't. It had been endearing to watch my family with the twins despite the language barrier.
They hadn't hesitated to rip into me, and I was admonished for not knowing about the twins sooner. I remained quiet because I wasn't about to explain our situation to them. My parents would stay home with my men, Orla and the twins, while we went on our honeymoon. It all worked out in the end.
“I can't believe how cute the kids are. It makes me kinda broody,”
Akim said while Maksim and Artyom snickered.
“Weddings,”
Maksim said. “They get everyone emotional.”
“Da, today is the day for you and the nanny,”
Artyom said with a smirk.
“Suka,”
Maksim hissed at him, making the Bishop clear his throat, and Maksim awkwardly apologised to him. Bitch.
The music began, and my head snapped toward the open doors. The twins stepped into the cathedral but hesitated as they peered into the huge ornate hall and all the people inside it. I waved to them to get their attention, and they smiled before stepping inside.
I tried to blink my tears away as I saw my daughter in her stunning white dress that glittered at the edges and my son, who wore a suit similar to mine. They were running toward me when Tatiana remembered her flower petals and stopped to toss some in the air. Alexei turned back when he noticed Tatiana wasn't by his side. He went back to help her throw the flowers.
Orla and Mariya were next to step inside. I placed a hand over my stomach to ease the nauseous feeling. Akim nudged me, but I was rooted in place as Mariya lifted her head. She had chosen an off-white traditional dress with a long veil draping over her head. The veil was heavily embroidered at the edges and glittered under the light.
It had a square neckline with the same lace edging and design over the long dress. A glittering belt cinched in her waist while the skirt puffed out, but it was her face that shone with happiness as she watched our children that made my heart race. Orla held her arm and walked her down the aisle which seemed appropriate given she had been with her since our children were born. She was more like family, as were my men.
When she looked away from Alexei and Tatiana to look for me at the altar, her face softened as our eyes met. A sudden flashback to when I first approached her at the bar hit me. It was a rare occurrence for me to hit on a woman, especially at a bar, but to see her working on studying market conditions and some decent stock options had intrigued me.
I never thought a chance one-night stand would lead to babies and marriage. My eyes dropped to her breasts, and I held my breath, imagining our third child who would be with us in eight short months.
Yes, my wife was fucking perfect in every way possible.
***
“You've brought me to a farm for our honeymoon?”
Mariya asked flatly as I carried her through the doorway.
“A luxury farm in Romiri, which is on an Island,”
I said, correcting her.
“We come to Greece, a country steeped with historic landmarks, and I get to moo on a farm,”
she grumbled. “It almost makes me wish you were lactose intolerant.”
I laughed so hard that I had to grip her tighter for the fear of dropping her on the stairs. The door opened as the housekeeper smiled at us.
“Welcome. Mr Karalis explained all your requirements. I have done everything as requested and left my number for you in the kitchen should you require anything else during your stay,”
she said, moving out of the way as I carried Mariya inside. “Congratulations on your recent nuptials, Mr and Mrs Abrosimov.”
“Thank you,”
we both said together as I raced for the stairs.
“Get ready to moo for me,”
I said, grinning when she let out a girlish giggle and tightened her arms around my neck.
When we reached the master bedroom, I placed her carefully on the bed, looking at her flat stomach beneath her white sundress. Our child lay there, growing stronger each day. I kissed her belly as she ran her fingers through my hair.
“I hope there was enough milk for the twins,”
she said dreamily.
“You saw the freezer. It was packed,”
I said, standing up to shrug out of my linen blazer before ripping my T-shirt off. I paused before glancing at Mariya.
“You're not hungry, are you?”
I asked with a frown, but she stared at my crotch.
“Starving,”
she whispered, making me groan and sigh in relief.
The luggage could stay in the car because I had more important things to do, like worshipping my wife’s pregnant body.