Epilogue
In which Roman and Violet finally get their wedding, and their happily ever after.
Violet…
St. Petersburg, one month later…
"I have to say," Ada's blissfully sipping champagne, "that it seems like it's a lot more fun being aware that you're getting married versus being ambushed into it."
I've heard stories about her late evening visit to the historic Smol’nyy Cathedral with Dmitri and I laugh, straightening my skirt. "Yeah, but at least you were clear that you were married, unlike me."
"These men are disreputable," Ava agrees, scooping up a chubby baby Lev who’s crawling toward the stairs.
"I'm so ready for that," blurts Rose.
Iris chimes in, "Rich, handsome, tattooed? Hell, yes!"
"No, the two of you are going to Columbia, remember?" I say sternly.
"There's no reason we can't have both," Iris says, and they both flash me a smug grin.
While they're getting ready to move into their dorm room at college, Roman has made it clear that their home base now is his - our - place.
The warmth and welcome there are light years from the chilly environment we used to endure at Poppy and Jack's Sunday "family" dinners.
"I feel a little silly wearing a wedding dress," I say, fiddling with the chiffon skirt.
It is beautiful, a silk slip, and then sheer chiffon over with delicate sleeves, tied with ribbons.
The dress has a full skirt that flows to mid-calf, so I'm comfortable walking without getting tangled up in it.
The memory of that dress's train nearly getting me killed at The Chad's estate put me off trailing dresses for life.
"This is your real wedding!" Ava says sternly. "You ought to demand the Morozov tiara, you should be flaunting those aristocratic jewels."
"Oh, that's real?" I spin to stare at her. "Roman asked me if I wanted to wear a tiara. I thought he was kidding."
We're renewing our vows at the Morozov hunting lodge in the Kovalevsky Forest close to St. Petersburg.
Hunting lodge. Please.
The lodge is a massive creation of timber and stone with acres of dark, ominous forest surrounding it. It's easy to picture Roman having wrestled a bear and dragging it home to throw it on the enormous table in the kitchen. Shirtless. He would be shirtless when he does this.
Roman and Dmitri both seem a little darker, more feral here. Based on some of the savage memories Roman has shared with me, this is not a surprising development. Besides, sex has never been hotter than it is with Roman when he's like this. More elemental. More Russian.
He proved it this morning.
I was brushing my teeth when the bathroom door slammed open. Roman’s bare chest was heaving, he was only covered in sweat and his running shorts.
In an instant, I was pressed between the vanity and my husband’s hard body.
“I thought about you for the entire fucking run,” he growled.
“About shoving your legs apart and burying myself in your tight pussy. I took a shortcut through the forest, jumping fallen logs and scraping the shit out of my arm.”
My gaze darted to his shoulder and there was a long, raw scrape running clear down to his elbow. “Sweetheart, let me clean that, you’re going to get an infection.”
I had more to say, but his hips shoved against me, knocking the breath from my lungs and pressing my pelvis painfully against the marble vanity.
There was an enormous old mirror hung over it, silvered with age.
Slapping a hand against it, I tried to keep from landing face first into the basin.
His dick was pressed against my back, the solid weight of him kept me in place.
“I’m going to slide my hand in these panties,” he said, as if we weren’t just talking about his injury. “If you’re wet, even a little slick, I’m shoving my cock in you. No warming you up, or playing with your clit. I’m pounding into that blazing hot cunt.”
He didn’t look at our reflection in the mirror, his head was bent, completely consumed with what he saw between us.
“Oh! Shit, Roman!”
I jolted forward, nearly smacking into the mirror as he ripped off my undies, driving three fingers into me without any warning.
It burned, I was sore from the night before but he didn’t care.
Yanking them back out of me, he held his glistening fingers up, showing the mirror and me that I was ready.
“There’s no safe word, baby,” he hissed. “You’re just going to take it.”
In two moves he shoved his shorts down and then, “Fuck!” I shrieked, “Ow!” The thick, solid heat of him tunneled through me as I squirmed, my feet trying to find purchase on the floor and he watched us, head bent.
“Let me in,” he commanded gruffly. “All the way in.”
I stared at the mirror, my wide, shocked eyes.
Roman’s harsh features shaped into something darker.
Crueler. He didn’t try to make it easier for me, he didn’t play with my breasts or toy with my clit.
His hands went to my hips and he hauled me higher, my feet kicking, trying to touch the floor and he thrust viciously, mind set on only his pleasure.
Perversely, because of his savage selfishness, I felt an orgasm racing through me like quicksilver, circling all the places he didn’t bother to touch and swirling around the thick, driving weight of his cock inside me and I screamed, his giant hand slapping over my mouth as he grunted his way to an orgasm, too.
Our harsh breathing filled the bathroom, his forehead rested against my back before he came to his senses, pulling out of me and I felt the embarrassing rush of his finish and mine coat my thighs.
“Did I hurt you?”
He was still panting, and I laughed breathlessly. “Did you want to?”
Roman looked up, and saw our reflection. “Either you have rabies or I just molested my bride while she was trying to brush her teeth.”
We melted into each other, howling with laughter until Roman straightened up with a groan, filling a glass with water and handing it to me so I could rinse my mouth.
"It's time." Ella opens the door. She's smiling mischievously. "Now, do I need to give you the wedding night talk, because-"
"Please!" I leap to my feet. "No talk! They showed us a film in health class, I'm sure I have the basics."
She gives me a warm hug, laughing with the others. "Welcome to the family, Violet. We're so happy to have you, Rose, and Iris be a part of this life."
My arms squeeze her tighter, trying to blink back tears. She didn't forget my sisters. She made their place here just as important as mine.
***
It's August and the warmth is holding, even though Roman tells me that St. Petersburg lets go of its summers too quickly. Ella and Tania gleefully appointed themselves as the wedding planners, transforming the sweeping courtyard and gardens.
As I step out I catch my breath. "Oh, it's perfect.
" Twinkle lights are strung through the trees and the bushes, dancing like fireflies in the approaching dusk.
The pond is glimmering with floating candles.
White peonies and roses drape in garlands across the wedding arch and best of all, my husband is standing at the end of the white silk runner, magnificent in his tux, wearing a huge grin.
Maksim steps up next to me and gently extends his elbow. "Thank you for this," I whisper. He had offered to walk me down the aisle and didn't even seem perturbed when I burst into tears. It is such a kind thing for him to do, and it surprised even Roman.
We walk the white silk path leading to the altar. Guests on each side are beaming; Rose and Iris's entire security team got the day off to attend as guests to enjoy themselves. They may be big, strong men but they always look a little exhausted.
My steps quicken as we near the altar and Maksim chuckles slightly as he takes my hand and offers it to Roman, who already loped down the steps from the altar to kiss me.
"I think you're supposed to do that afterward," I whisper.
Shrugging, he murmurs, "It's my first wedding, what do I know?" He kisses me again, his expression softening. "And my last. It's you, Violet. It will always be you."
Father Artur chuckles, resplendent in his long white tunic and his gold and white stole. Most priests I've known were fairly stern, but he smiles warmly at me. "This is the second Morozov brother I have been honored to join in holy union before the Lord," he says, speaking to the crowd.
My smile slips. Alexsey isn't here. We were sure he was coming, he and Dmitri were Roman's two best men.
But after he said he couldn't join the family on the flight to St. Petersburg, he vaguely promised that he'd take the family's other jet to be here in time.
This morning, Roman got a text from Alexsey.
The empty space meant for him is loud. Hard to overlook.
Father Artur speaks about family, about the importance of caring for each other.
Roman and I repeat the vows the priest gives us.
We walk, wearing our heavy gold crowns, three times around the altar.
We hold our candles and bow our heads during the prayers.
And when the ceremony finally concludes, Roman seizes me around the waist, and to a roar of laughter and applause, he lifts me up and kisses me soundly.
My veil falls off and I do not care. I'm busy kissing him back.
Long tables line the outdoor terrace, there's overflowing glasses of vodka and champagne, buttery lobster, crab, and all kinds of seafood.
There's a table dedicated to caviar and blinis, pelmeni dumplings and kurnik, savory meat pies.
Everyone laughs and eats, random toasts are made, some I understand, some that I suspect it's just as well that I don't. Iris and Rose circle the table holding our wedding cake, guarding it like it's the last Birkin bag at Saks Fifth Avenue's annual sale.
Iris can't take it anymore and comes for me, grabbing my sleeve. "You have to cut that cake."
It's a three-foot-tall creation of lavender and walnut cake, covered with marzipan and fresh flowers.
"You're not the only marzipan freak in the family," Iris says, wringing her hands.
"Nikandr is as bad as we are and he told me he's considering throwing a grenade into the forest to distract everyone so he gets first crack at the cake.
And frankly, I can't be held responsible if I don't get a bite of that into my mouth soon. "
I'm not sure if she means the cake or Nikandr, but she's getting her point across. Roman hears her desperate plea and takes my hand, leading me over the towering confection. It's settling into twilight now, the floating lanterns and the strings of lights illuminating the enormous courtyard.
My husband raises a glass as he turns to me.
"I was satisfied with my life as a Vor. Free from having the responsibilities of a wife and children.
" He looks down at me and I, of course, immediately start crying when I see the love there, his green eyes are glowing with it.
"I was captivated by you when you first lured me into that garden," he says with a teasing grin.
There are small chuckles rippling through the crowd.
Enough of them know the story to find this amusing.
"I am obsessed with you. I am in love with you.
I want every part of your life to be part of mine, and I vow to you that the shelter will always be staffed.
Your sisters will always be protected, even from themselves.
" Louder laughter this time. "And one day if we're fortunate, there will be a herd of sons and daughters to punish us for all our reckless behavior when we were young. "
A roar goes up with a round of applause and the guests shout "Gorko!"
"What are they saying?" I ask.
Roman puts down his glass and takes my face in his hands. "It's the best of wedding traditions," he says with his devil's grin. "They shout Gorko! because the kiss makes the bitter wine taste sweet. I'm told that my parents kissed for a very long time. Should we try to beat it?"
"I appreciate your competitive nature," I say with a conspiratorial grin. My husband puts his mouth on mine as I sink against his hard chest.
Iris wails, "But what about the cake?"
We kiss, and kiss, and kiss long after the crowds can't clap anymore and their voices are hoarse from cheering.