Chapter 55 – Two Weeks Later
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
SLOANE
TWO WEEKS LATER
“Are you ready?” Mandy asks as I study myself in the mirror in my bedroom.
This time I’m wearing another dress I picked out, with a sweetheart neckline and handmade flowers along the top that spill down into a dropped waist, each one touched with tiny crystals.
It’s extravagant, the kind of gown you’d see on a runway, but it’s beautiful, and Kirill didn’t spare any expense.
My fingers brush over the soft fabric, tracing one of the flowers, and just like that, the images flash through my mind. The way she looked at me. The way she laughed. The way the bullet hit her before it was over.
With every day that passes, the reality of what I did keeps finding its way back to me, no matter how hard I try to shove it down.
Some days, I spiral, wondering if I shouldn’t have done it. If I should’ve forgiven her. If I should’ve just cut her out of my life.
But in the end, it always comes back to my boys and what she did to hurt them.
Maybe in time, it won’t be as painful as it is now.
It’s not even that I miss her. I don’t. There was never really anything there to miss. It’s the fact that I became exactly what she always said I was—a killer—and I hate that.
“Yeah, sorry.” I shake my head, glancing over at my best friend as Fiona fluffs out my dress and Emilia straightens my veil.
Even though Kirill and I are already legally married, this feels like our real wedding. That should make me happy, and it does, but when I think about walking down that aisle in front of all those people, easily two hundred of them, I instantly become nervous.
I’ve never liked being the center of attention, and the fact that I have to do it alone this time somehow makes it worse.
But Milo is the ringbearer, along with Lev, and he was so excited about it.
Mandy pulls me into a tight hug, grinning from ear to ear. “I can’t believe you’re the wife of a mobster. You’re literally living every Mafia romance girlie’s dream right now.”
I roll my eyes and shove her lightly. “Shut up. And why the hell are you reading Mafia romances anyway?”
“Because they’re good.” She scrunches her face in a duh kind of way.
Obviously, I couldn’t tell Mandy everything. But I told her enough. About cutting my sister out of my life after she put all of us at risk. About the way she hurt us. And, of course, about the baby.
We still haven’t told the boys. Kirill and I decided to wait a little longer, until we knew for sure the baby was okay. Maybe that sounds silly, but part of me is always waiting for the next shoe to drop. I guess that comes with the kind of life I’ve lived.
Fiona steps back to admire her work while Emilia tilts her head, studying me like she’s making sure every last detail is perfect before I’m sent out to face the crowd waiting downstairs.
“You look beautiful,” Fiona says.
“Seriously,” Emilia adds, her eyes bright. “Kirill is going to lose his mind when he sees you.”
I let out a nervous exhale, gripping the edge of the vanity. Then there’s a knock at the bedroom door.
Emilia glances toward it. “I’ll get it.”
She crosses the room and opens it just a crack, and from where I’m standing, I register voices in the hallway I can’t quite make out.
The door opens wider, and Konstantin steps inside with one arm loosely wrapped around Emilia’s waist, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her head before his attention lands on me.
“You look absolutely beautiful, Sloane,” he says warmly. “Kirill is very lucky to have you.”
My cheeks grow in color. “Thank you.”
Suddenly, I’m very aware of the way everyone is looking at me.
He studies me before his expression turns thoughtful. “The reason I came up here is because I wanted to ask you something. And feel free to say no.”
Curiosity slides in as I wonder what in the world the head of the Russian Mafia could possibly want to ask me.
“I was hoping to have the honor of walking you down the aisle…if you would like me to.”
The words catch me completely off guard. Then relief rushes through me.
“Yes,” I say quickly. “Absolutely, yes.”
He chuckles. “Good. Then whenever you’re ready. They’re waiting for you.”
My nerves surge all over again while Mandy squeezes my hand. “You’ve got this. And you look hot as shit, so that helps.”
I let out a snicker. “Thanks, but can you guarantee I don’t fall flat on my face?”
Her mouth quirks.
“No,” she whispers. “But if you hold on to that hot brother of his, I think you’ll be fine.”
I shake my head just as the wedding planner steps into the room. She starts arranging everyone in the order they’re meant to walk out, and as we head downstairs and begin lining up near the door that leads outside, my eyes go straight to Milo and Lev standing side by side.
And they’re holding hands. I’m not sure my heart can take it.
Both of them clutch small satin pillows with fake rings tied carefully in the center, their suits pressed and their expressions so serious, it’s precious.
When they see me, they rush to my side, both of them giving me a hug at the same time.
“I love you boys.”
“I love you too, Mom,” Milo says.
As Lev peers up at me with those thoughtful eyes, I wonder what he’s truly thinking.
“Love you,” he says, and I try not to tear up, but fail.
I kneel so I’m eye level with them and rest a hand on each of their shoulders. “You’re brothers now, and I want you to promise me you’ll always look out for each other.”
Milo nods. “Okay, Mom.”
“Good.” I smooth my dress as I rise to my feet, and the boys return to their place while Konstantin steps up and slips my arm through his.
The planner opens the glass doors, and Anton, Emilia, and Mandy step out first. Aleksei and Fiona follow, soft music drifting up as the guests turn their attention to them.
Then come the boys. Milo and Lev step out side by side.
In just these short weeks, they’ve built a stronger bond than most people manage in years, spending their afternoons hunched over puzzles together, reading books on the couch with their heads nearly touching, and inventing elaborate games that leave the entire living room scattered with toys.
This is what I always wanted. A family who cares about one another.
Beside me, Konstantin peers down. “Are you ready?”
I straighten and force my shoulders to relax. “I think so.”
“You know…” he says after a moment. “Life rarely turns out the way we imagine it will.”
I look up at him as he continues, a faint smile touching his mouth.
“But sometimes, that’s exactly what makes it better.”
Maybe he’s right.
When the music changes, it’s our turn, and together, we step through the doors.
The second I see Kirill standing there, everything else falls away. The guests. The music. Even the nerves that have been twisting inside me all morning.
His eyes find mine instantly, and the way they soften makes everything fall neatly into place.
Konstantin lets out a low chuckle. “I think you made my brother cry.”
“Wouldn’t be a bad thing.”
He smiles. “Didn’t say it was.”
KIRILL
I barely register the music or the guests turning in their seats. All of that fades into the background the second she appears in the doorway, her hand resting lightly on Konstantin’s arm.
And all I can do is stare.
That’s my wife. And I will never take her trust in me for granted.
When they finally reach the altar, I step forward and clasp Konstantin’s shoulder firmly. “Thank you for this.”
He nods once, understanding how much that gesture meant to me.
Sloane’s hand slips into mine, and I kiss the top of it as her grin widens.
“You’re breathtaking, Mrs. Marinova.”
“Why, thank you. You’re quite handsome too.” She takes in my black tux, flown down from Spain.
Milo giggles at something Lev says, and when I glance down at the two boys standing proudly beside us, I can’t help feeling complete, like all the pieces are finally in their place.
I lean closer to Sloane, lowering my tone so only she can hear me. “I could die happy right now.”
“We’d much prefer it if you lived.” She places a hand on her stomach, her smile gleaming beneath the veil.
And this sense of immense possessiveness slams into me.
She’s growing a baby. Our baby.
“Ya lyublyu tebya,” I remind her.
“I love you too,” she whispers.
She’s been learning Russian, and I have to give her credit because it is not an easy language.
Before either of us can say anything else, Father Pasha begins the blessing, while I already want him to end. This is just for show, but I wanted her to have the entire experience of a Marinov wedding.
But I, of course, have no patience. I just want to get to the end. To kiss her, to dance with her, to get her alone so I can properly show her just how much I love her. All of her.
Father Pasha finishes the final blessing, and after we say our vows, he finally gets to the words I’ve been waiting for.
“You may kiss the bride.”
The second the words leave, I pull her toward me, one hand sliding behind her neck as I crash my mouth to hers.
Cheers erupt, laughter and applause rising around us, but I stop hearing it almost immediately. All I feel is her.
And in this moment, standing here with my wife in my arms and our boys beside us, I finally understand what it means to have a purpose.
Because they’re mine.