Chapter 56
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
SLOANE
The backyard is completely decked out. A polished dance floor glows beneath strands of soft light stretched between the trees, and every table is dressed with tall arrangements of white roses and orchids threaded with crystal strands, while candles flicker in glass holders.
The band plays something smooth and romantic near the back of the garden, and everywhere I look, people are dressed in tailored suits and evening gowns that probably cost more than my old house. Farther off, acrobats are performing for a small crowd.
I still can’t believe this is my new life.
Kirill’s arm rests easily around my waist as we move through the crowd, stopping every few steps so he can greet someone new. I’m doing my best to keep track of names without looking as overwhelmed as I feel.
The next couple heading our way is impossible to miss.
The woman is tall and striking with vivid red hair falling in thick waves down her back and bright turquoise eyes.
The man beside her, dark-haired and sharply dressed, carries himself with the kind of easy confidence that makes it clear he’s someone powerful.
“Well, well,” the redhead says when they reach us, her smile playful as her gaze moves between Kirill and me. “Looks like the Marinov brothers are dropping like hats.”
She pauses, considering.
“Or flies,” she adds with a laugh. “I can never remember which one it is.”
Kirill chuckles. “Sloane, this is Gio Marino, from the Messina family.”
Gio shakes my hand politely.
“And this…” Kirill gestures to the woman beside him. “…is Iseult Quinn, of the Irish family.”
“Nice to meet you.” Iseult’s features gleam with mischief as she folds her arms loosely. “Looks like all we have left now is Anton.”
As if she summoned him with the comment, Anton strolls past us at that exact moment, a drink in one hand and his usual faint scowl in place.
“I will never get married,” he says flatly, not even slowing down.
Iseult bursts out laughing. “Felt.”
Gio stares at her in mock horror. “What the fuck does that mean?”
She loops an arm around him. “It means I love you very much.”
She kisses his cheek, then throws me a wink.
“That’s my wife.” Gio pulls her in and kisses her, and she pretends to fight him for all of two seconds before melting into it.
Okay, they’re cute.
When the next group heads our way, there are so many of them, I almost lose track.
“That’s Iseult’s family,” Kirill whispers.
The first man to step forward is tall and serious, with the kind of presence that makes people instinctively get out of his way.
“Tynan Quinn,” he says, shaking my hand. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
Beside him is a beautiful woman with long black hair falling smoothly over her shoulders, her bright blue eyes warm. “Elara. It’s a pleasure. And your dress, wow.”
“Thanks. I love yours too.” My attention drops to her emerald silk gown, the diamond earrings at her ears glistening.
Another couple steps up right after them.
“I’m Eriu,” the woman says with a friendly grin, gesturing to the man beside her. “And this is my husband, Devlin.”
Before I can fully take in those names, another pair moves in.
“Fionn Quinn.” The man gives a brief nod, his hand resting at the back of the woman next to him. “And this is my beautiful wife, Amara.”
I keep shaking hands, doing my best to keep up with all the introductions, and the strangest part of all is how normal they seem. If someone walked into this party without knowing who these people were, they’d probably never guess how dangerous they really are.
Finally, the last couple makes their way over.
“Cillian Quinn.” He offers me his hand before gesturing to the woman beside him. “And my wife, Dinara.”
Her eyes immediately land on Kirill, and her grin turns playful. “Well, this is unexpected. My cousin getting married.”
“Careful,” he says dryly. “You don’t want me trigger-happy at my own wedding.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Her lips quirk. “Unless you want my husband to get pissy.”
Kirill laughs, then pulls her into a quick hug. “I’ve missed you. How are you?”
“Okay.” She shrugs before her gaze bounces between us. “I am very happy for you. You deserve it. So does Lev.”
He tightens his arm around me as we all talk for a few minutes before they go get something to eat. But just as I start to relax, another group makes their way to us from the far side of the garden.
And this time, I recognize them immediately: the Whitlocks. Jace leads the way, with Thora beside him and Greer not far behind.
“Marinov.” Jace gives a short nod.
“Mm-hmm,” is all my dear husband says before Jace’s focus shifts to me.
The truth is, Kirill never meant to invite them. That was my idea. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about it either, though he agreed in the end because he wanted me to have whatever I wanted on our wedding day.
Even so, watching the look that passes between him and Jace, I can’t help wondering again what exactly happened between their families to make the tension this bad.
“Sloane.” Jace nods at me. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Thanks for having us.” Thora steps in and gives me a hug, her sweetness obvious the second you meet her.
Greer nods, tossing her curls over her shoulder. “Yes, what she said.” Her mouth curves into a smirk before she adds, “Our parents sent a gift. They’re sorry they couldn’t make it. Urgent business back home.”
“It’s alright.” Kirill takes my hand. “If you’ll excuse me, I need a dance with my wife now.”
He doesn’t wait for a response before whisking me away just as a slow song begins to play.
“Did you really want a dance?” I arch a brow. “Or were you just trying to get away?”
“Why can’t it be both?” A half-smile tips up. He gazes at me, his knuckles feathering along the slope of my cheek. “You captivate me, Mrs. Marinova. I’ve never been a man who’s easily captivated.”
“You flatter me, husband.”
He takes my wrist and kisses my pulse point as we sway together. “And I will continue to flatter you and love you until my very last breath. You complete me like no one ever has.”
Emotion catches in my throat. “Stop it. You’re not supposed to make me cry.”
He laughs just as Thora passes by. As she says something to her sister, I notice Anton sitting at a nearby table, watching her a little too closely.
“I think your brother likes Thora.”
Kirill chuckles. “I wouldn’t call it that.”
My eyes narrow. “What would you call it, then?”
“Definitely not love.”
“You never know.”
“You’re right, but my brother is different. You’ll learn that soon enough.”
I keep observing Anton, trying to make sense of what Kirill said. But after everything that happened with us, I can’t help wondering if something like that could happen for them too.
Thora turns slightly, and their eyes meet. She smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. Anton catches the movement, stares for a bit too long, and then looks away like he wasn’t supposed to be caught doing that.
Kirill notices it too.
“I don’t care what you say,” I tell him. “There is potential there.”
“Leave it to my wife to find love where there is none.”
I pop my chin and shrug. “Let’s leave that up to fate, shall we?”
“Whatever you say, malyshka.”
He spins me across the dance floor, and I giggle, lighter than I’ve been in a long time.
Because for the first time in what seems like forever, there is nothing hanging over my head waiting to ruin everything. No lies. No secrets. No ghosts from the past whispering that everything I love will be ripped away from me.
That life is over. The people who tried to hurt us are no longer a threat, and the family around us would destroy anyone foolish enough to come after us.
Kirill pulls me back into him, and when I lift my eyes to his, I let myself feel all of it: the safety, the love, the relief.
And the almost impossible peace of knowing I no longer have to keep running.
By the time we’ve said goodbye to the last of the guests and gotten the boys tucked into bed, the house has gone quiet.
In our bedroom, Kirill stands near the window with his jacket draped over the back of a chair, his tie loosened and the top buttons of his shirt undone. When he turns toward me, the look in his eyes is pure fire.
I can’t help but take in how handsome he is. Those broad shoulders, the firm muscle barely hidden beneath his dress shirt, his power, his height, the way he makes me feel whenever he touches me.
He treads toward me, the back of his hand sloping across my chin. “Was it everything you dreamed of?”
“I never really dreamed about my wedding.” I glance down at the lace of my dress before gazing back at him. “Some girls spend their whole lives imagining it, planning every detail, but I never did.”
He studies my face while I continue.
“But…if I had dreamed about it, it would’ve been exactly like today.”
A quiet affection settles behind his eyes. “From now on, dream as big as you want, and I will make it happen.”
And when he looks at me with that burning intensity, my soul grows.
“I want to give you the world, solnishko. Because you are my world.”
Emotion rises fast, and I have to swallow before I take his hand and press a soft kiss to the center of his palm. “You’re mine too.”
A low grunt escapes him, and he cradles my face, his thumb brushing along my cheeks as he studies me like he’s memorizing every inch of me all over again.
And when he leans down to kiss me, I’m lost to it.
To the warmth, the tenderness, the way his hands move, loosening the pins in my hair until it falls over my shoulders while I reach for the buttons of his shirt.
The distance between us disappears as all the fabric slips away. Until it’s just the feeling of his skin on mine.
His hands slide up my bare back, gliding into my strands as his kiss grows hungrier, his tongue sliding with mine before he lifts me off the floor.
My legs hook around his hips as he guides me onto the bed, his mouth moving down my neck, sucking a slow path down to my breast. He tugs a nipple into his mouth, his tongue dancing around the tip before giving the same attention to the other breast. As he does, his palm slides down between us, finding my wet core and rubbing me slow before he pushes two fingers inside me.
“Kirill,” I whimper, grabbing his hair as he growls around my breast, his thumb working my clit as the sensations overtake me completely.
Every time he touches me, it’s like the first time. I feel worshipped. Loved. It’s not just sex; it’s something otherworldly. Like we’re connected in a way I can’t explain.
His mouth lowers to my stomach, kissing my abdomen with special care, whispering something in Russian I can’t make out before he spreads my legs wider, dropping kisses on the inside of both thighs.
The tip of his tongue strokes up my center, and I let out a cry, fingertips gripping his hair as I arch into his mouth, needing this so badly.
My eyes fall to a close and I let myself enjoy it—the way his fingers feel inside me, that mouth taking everything from me. Before I realize what’s happening, he flips me around and slips his head under me until I’m sitting on his face.
“Look at me,” he demands with a possessive growl as he sucks my pussy while I try to shift so I don’t suffocate him. He grunts and grabs my hips, his eyes heated as they take me in. “Don’t fucking move.”
That rough, commanding tone makes me clench.
“That feels so good.”
My fingers run over the tattoos at his temples before slipping into the fuller part of his hair. When he flicks my clit, I lose control, my toes curling, my body on the brink of collapse. His teeth graze me there, and I can’t stop from shaking.
“Oh God, I’m gonna come.”
He groans and sucks me whole, and that’s all it takes.
“Kirill!” I scream, hands tugging on his hair, trying to keep myself upright.
He doesn’t stop, his mouth doing dangerous things to me before I eventually come down from the high. When he pulls me down, his mouth slick with my arousal, he drags me in for a kiss, flipping us over so I’m beneath him.
His cock is thick and hard, sliding between my legs, causing me to jerk from the sensitivity.
“I will always love you,” he promises before he lines himself at my entrance and slams home.
I draw in a sharp cry, the sting blending with the pleasure as he watches me, his mouth tracing passionate kisses along the line of my jaw.
“Are you okay?”
I nod, wrenching him back down into another kiss, and when his hips begins to move, unhurried and deep, I’m lost again. To him. To us. To the quiet magic we create together.
And in this moment, I hope it never ends. When we come together, he gazes down at me, and I know he sees all of me. The good. The bad. The broken. The beautiful.
And somehow, he loves me anyway.