Chapter 38
Alexei
My declaration permeates the air like smoke after gunfire.
She’s half in, half out of her wedding dress, trapped in a white satin monstrosity that doesn’t suit her any more than this sham of a wedding suited either of us.
But the expression on her face—bewilderment, vulnerability, a flash of brightness that might represent hope—slams into me more viciously than any bullet ever could.
I can’t maintain this barrier between us. Not when she’s gazing at me like I might actually matter.
Her hands fall from the zipper to hang limply at her sides. “Are you sure about that? You haven’t spoken to me all day.”
She ducks her head, maybe to hide the faint tremble of her lips.
Remorse spears my chest. I’ve behaved like a total bastard.
“I’m sure.” My voice is gruffer than usual.
I enter the room, deliberately closing the distance between us. The cat’s orange tail vanishes like a snuffed-out flame as she scurries under the bed to avoid us.
Smart animal. She must sense that things are about to get complicated.
“Turn around.”
Aurora hesitates, then slowly complies, presenting her back to me. The dress gapes open, revealing pale skin and delicate lingerie.
My heart rate quickens. “I didn’t know what to say to you. You’ve been… I was…”
My attempts at an explanation peter out.
I can negotiate million-dollar deals, threaten men into submission, and command loyalty from hardened criminals.
But this—trying to describe the knot of feeling in my chest—is beyond me.
Just like how I never told MJ what he meant to me.
Even standing at his gravesite, the right words refused to come.
I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes.
“You looked like you were at your own funeral, not your wedding.” I work the zipper down to the small of her back.
“Every smile and word felt like watching a prisoner being marched to their execution. Hell, you barely spoke at all without prompting.” Once the dress parts even more, I curve my hand around the base of her spine, and the warmth of her skin seeps into mine.
“I thought you hated me. I saw it on your face all day.”
“Not hatred. Just…resignation.” She spins back around while clutching the dress to her chest. “I thought you were done with me. That I was just a problem you had to solve and Roman was forcing this marriage on you, and once you got my compliance, you didn’t need to act anymore.”
I almost laugh at that while spreading my arms wide. “Woman, I cannot act to save my life. I am what you see.”
The corner of her mouth twitches up ever so slightly. “True. You are very honest.”
The observation startles me. “Not sure I’d describe myself that way.”
Unexpected heat sparks in my chest. People have given me many different labels. Blunt? Cruel? Unfeeling? All the fucking time. But honest?
I’m a killer. A criminal. A man who’s broken every commandment and violated every law. I’ve done things that would send Aurora screaming. No one’s ever described me as honest before.
She shakes her head. “That’s because you think honesty is only about what you say.
But it’s about who you are. You never pretend to be something you’re not.
Even when doing so would simplify your life.
You didn’t hide who you were with Johnny.
I’m sure the thought never even crossed your mind.
You just came right out and asked me for help instead. ”
The heat in my chest spreads. This woman notices too much. That should terrify me, but it also feels like she switched on a light after I spent years stumbling in the darkness.
“I’m here now.” She brightens with every word, shedding the invisible blanket that smothered her inner shine. “To do for you what you can’t.”
I raise an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”
“See the good parts. Say the hard things. Create something beautiful out of all this broken mess.” She waves a hand between us, and my lungs nearly fail when she almost loses her grip on the dress. “That’s what I do, remember?”
A backhanded compliment if I ever heard one, assuming I’m the broken thing in this scenario. I should remind her exactly what kind of man I am and why I don’t require fixing.
Instead, I’m fucking captivated.
Beautiful enough to be a Vila from some enchanted forest, this gorgeous woman stands half-dressed before me in her wedding gown, insisting she sees something in me worth salvaging. Worth keeping.
Worth loving?
The instant that last question surfaces, blood whooshes in my ears.
Love.
Is that what my constant awareness of her means? This urge to protect her, to keep her close, to make her smile? This terrible fear that I’ll destroy her or drive her away by proving myself unworthy of whatever goodness she believes I possess?
I reach for her, but she stops me by holding up her palm. “Wait. I have a present for you.”
Before I can react, she bends down—still clutching the dress to her chest with one hand—and fishes beneath the bed with the other.
Pixie hisses from her hiding spot, clearly unimpressed with the intrusion.
“Sorry, Pix.” After a little more digging, Aurora finally produces a small box wrapped in plain brown paper but festooned with a ridiculous array of curly, bouncy rainbow ribbons that clash with the austere packaging. “Your wedding gift.”
A painful knot settles behind my ribs. When was the last time anyone gave me something other than a weapon or a bribe or payment for services rendered?
My gut clenches. Why the hell didn’t anyone explain to me that wedding presents are a thing? I have nothing for Aurora.
“You didn’t have to—”
“I know. That’s why I did it. Go on. Open it.”
I accept her offering with the care I’d use to handle a bomb. I spend a minute untying the silky ribbons and another unwrapping the paper without tearing it. The unlabeled box underneath is plain cardboard.
I lift the lid.
Inside, a bracelet nestles on a bed of white tissue paper. An intricate pattern covers the leather strap, a shield crafted from tiny pieces of broken dinnerware or tiles. Together, the pieces form a fierce, proud lion, comprised of blues and golds and whites.
An odd sensation suffuses my chest.
She made this. For me.
I lift the bracelet from the box. The craftsmanship is exquisite, each piece placed with precision, the leather soft and supple.
My throat tightens, and my eyes burn. Damn sinuses, picking the worst time to act up.
“Do you like it?” Her uncertainty causes the knot in my chest to grow.
I run my thumb over the mosaic shield, feeling the smooth surfaces of the once broken fragment, now whole and beautiful.
And just for me.
Awe and humility splash over me like a tide, drowning my usual defenses.
I could buy a hundred bracelets. A thousand. But this? This single item created by her hands is worth more than all of them combined.
“It’s perfect. But I don’t…” The words catch, and I pause to inhale a steadying breath. “I didn’t get you anything.”
A soft, silvery laugh bursts from her lips.
“Are you kidding? You got me a home. And a husband.” She gestures around the room, at the loft beyond, at me.
“Things were looking pretty bleak, you know. Broke waitress…always working…no adventure whatsoever. Plus, you gave me the ability to create your gift in the first place. So honestly, it’s probably for the best that you kidnapped me. ”
I close the distance in two strides, the bracelet still cradled in one hand while I wrap the other around her waist. The dress slips and catches between our bodies. Though her breath hitches, neither of us moves to grab the gown.
I growl into her ear. “You’re joking about me kidnapping you. On our wedding night.”
I feel her smile against my neck. “Well, when you put it that way, it does sound pretty weird.” I pull back to study her and find light dancing in her eyes and a delicious flush pinkening her cheeks.
All day, I watched her retreat further into herself. Become smaller, dimmer.
Now she’s present and vibrant. The Aurora I’ve sorely missed.
She chews her bottom lip. “You really don’t hate me?”
“Are you serious? I’ve never hated you. It’s only that I don’t know how to do this.
” Once the dam breaks, the words flood out.
“I don’t know how to be a husband or a partner or whatever the fuck normal people are to each other.
I only know how to be what I am. And what I am is…
dangerous and broken. Not the kind of man who deserves someone like you. ”
Her fingers trace my jawline. “Maybe I don’t want what you think I deserve. Maybe I should get to choose for myself.”
“And you choose this? Me? After everything?”
“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Her smile could brighten up any room. A building. All of Chicago.
And Aurora’s right. Despite everything, she’s still here. She didn’t back out of our deal, even with the peril, lies, forced marriage, and the cold shoulder I’ve given her for days. She’s still here, gazing at me like I’m valuable.
I skim my thumb across her cheek. “You’re a terrible judge of character.”
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m exactly what you need.” She leans closer, her lips nearly brushing mine. “Someone who sees the man behind the monster.”
I should tell her there is no man behind the monster. That what she sees is a projection, a fantasy she’s created to cope with her situation. I should let her know that I’ll only disappoint her and drag her down into my darkness with me.
Instead, I kiss her.
Unlike the chaste, impersonal kiss from the ceremony, this one is raw. Ravenous. Desperate. A silent confession. A promise I don’t know if I can keep. Her eager mouth opens against mine as she matches my intensity with her own.
The dress slips away. My hands find bare skin, warm and soft under my calloused palms. She arches into my touch, and the small moan that escapes her throat sparks every nerve in my being.
We break apart, panting. I press my forehead to hers, searching for a way to describe the riot of emotions she’s unleashed.
Nothing seems adequate.
“Alexei.” My name on her lips is a salvation I don’t deserve. “Make love to me.”
Those four little words swamp me with a tsunami of pure desire.
I lift her easily, her body fitting against mine as if we’re made for each other. The wedding dress lies abandoned on the floor, a discarded cocoon from which miraculous new life has emerged.
Hope. The belief that we might actually stand a chance of surviving in this fractured world we inhabit.
Together.
As I carry her toward the bed, I pledge a silent oath. A deep, binding promise.
I will protect her and be worthy of her. I will never let her regret choosing me, choosing this life.
Even if it kills me.