Epilogue
In which Russian wedding traditions bring together family for fun, love, and bribery.
Dmitri…
"Where is my brIDE!" I roar, hearing a theatrical gasp and giggle behind the door.
"You can't have her!" Mother shouts.
"Yeah, what's in it for us?" Alexsey adds.
Roman chokes on his drink. "Remind me never to use our brother for hostage negotiations."
"I'm just getting bored!" Alexsey says. "This is the third goddamn abduction. So, stop with the boxes of chocolate and the jewelry for Christ's sake. Give us something good. Cash. Cash is always good."
"Oh, you romantic, you," Priya says flatly.
My father is lounging in the living room, drink in hand, and positioned so that he can look down the hall.
He's watching me pound on the door of his bedroom, trying to retrieve my wife as my cousins Nikandr and Andrey laugh heartlessly.
My Uncle Yuri is trying to find something stronger to drink in Father's bar.
"Eto dolzhno prekratit'sya, this must end," Father sighs, rising and buttoning his jacket.
Gregor, one of his lieutenants, hurries over with a satchel.
"Here, son." Father hands it to me. "It is not that the old wedding traditions aren't enjoyable but…
" He checks his watch. "We have two hours until your wedding party and I'm sure your bride will want to get dressed. "
Unzipping the satchel, I find multiple bundles of cash. "You do know how to cut to the chase, Otets, Father, don't you?" Roman says admiringly.
I pound on the door until it rattles on its hinges.
"Easy!" My mother's voice calls. "This door is carved Brazilian Rosewood!"
"Sorry, Mother," I call, "but I do have a ransom that I think you will find appropriate."
The door opens a crack and they crowd into the space. I can just see Ava jumping up and down behind them, flashes of her silver gold hair as she waves at me.
"Hey, honey!" She calls out.
"Hello, love. I'll be right with you." I take a thick stack of cash out of the satchel and slap it in Priya's hand. "Would this be satisfactory?" She stares at it, then me, then back at it.
"What, are you serious?" she asks. "I thought we were just playing around here. Plus, those Amedei Porcelana chocolates were amazing."
"Oh, play time is over," I say. "I want my bride."
"She's all yours," Priya laughs, she's hurrying down the hallway without looking back. "Ten thousand… twenty… thirty… f- fifty thousand? He's insane!"
Alexsey is next. "But you gave her $50,000," he pouts.
You're not worth fifty grand," I say, slapping him on the back of the head with his money. "Take the twenty-five and be grateful."
My cousin Dasha and Auntie Tania attempt to look haughty. "I do not want your money," Dasha says with great dignity.
"What ransom will you accept?" I say tiredly.
"Your 1973 Porsche 911." Dasha blinks up at me adoringly.
"That cost me $95,000. No."
"For the love of god, please let it end," Andrey groans, downing his drink.
"The use of the Porsche for one year," Dasha isn't giving up.
"Three months." I rub my eyes.
"Six months."
"Deal," I snarl. "Pick up the keys tomorrow."
Aunt Tania bursts into laughter, kissing my cheek. "This is getting painful to watch. I'm good, the diamond teardrop earrings were gorgeous. Good luck, honey."
Mother is standing next to Ava, her arm over her shoulder. I would be insane to offer her less than Priya. "Mother, may I offer you fifty thousand dollars to release my bride to me?"
"Thank you, son," she says, pocketing the money. "I've been looking forward to getting a new scanner for the clinic." She leans over and gives me a kiss. "Well done, my darling."
Ava is the only one left and she spreads her arms out with a grin. "Save me, my handsome husband!" she calls out theatrically, and we hear laughter from the living room. Scooping her up in my arms. I stride down the hall.
"Where are you going?" Mother's laughing.
"No, really. Where are you going?" Priya says. "We have to get her ready."
"Not just yet." I carry Ava out the door.
She's giggling, her face buried in my neck. "Is it rude to be late to our own wedding celebration?"
"We're already married," I say. "Let them wait."
Taking her downstairs, I carry her into the guest suite. Ava cocks her head. "Do I hear water running? How long were we up there negotiating my freedom? I hope the tub isn't running over."
"I'm not moving any faster than this," I say. "I'm not taking a chance on slipping with my wife and baby in my arms."
Fortunately, the tub has not overflown and I slowly peel each layer from Ava, her long blue maternity dress, her camisole and underwear. She smiles shyly, crossing her arms over her gorgeous, full breasts. They've grown at least a cup size larger during pregnancy and I can't keep my hands off them.
"I'm not wearing any sexy underwear," she says.
"As if you need it," I scoff, stripping quickly. I step into the tub and then help her in, easing down and settling back with her against my chest.
"This is nice," she sighs. "I remember the very first bath I'd had after living here in New York for two years was in your penthouse. I think we need to have a bathtub in every house we ever live in for the rest of our lives."
"That seems fair." I'm playing with her left hand, making her diamond shine in the light. "Are you sure you're up for tonight?" I ask.
At six months along, Ava is still working at the clinic, reluctantly reducing her hours. Finding maternity scrubs for her was an exercise in futility until I quietly had a seamstress make some for her.
"No, I feel great," she says. "It'll be nice to see everyone again."
'Everyone' didn't include her family, sadly. Ava asked her mother if she could fly her in for the party, but she refused to come without her husband. Knowing what I did of how he'd treated Ava growing up, it would have been awkward, stabbing my father-in-law at our wedding party.
"I'm sorry your family won't be here." I kiss the top of her head.
"Oh, but they are," she says, her fingers tracing the swirls of my tattoo, following the lines of each Morozov man lost. "I have you, I have Priya, and Ella. Plus, Roman, Alexsey, and I really like your Aunt Tania and Dasha. That girl is ruthless." She pauses, "I'm not sure about your father."
"I think you know that he's very fond of you."
"So you can see, I have a home bursting with family," she says with a happy smile.
"You are sweet enough to give half of New York cavities," I say, kissing her. "And you, carrying our child makes you more beautiful than I can express."
"Yeah," she says, getting up and carefully moving to straddle me. "About that. Reserve judgement until you see me at nine months. I've seen pictures of my mother pregnant with me. It wasn't pretty."
My hands are back on her breasts because I'm a sick bastard and can't control myself.
"Are you getting hard right now?" Ava is staring down between us.
"Possibly…" I allow. “Actually, yes."
"Everyone waiting for us upstairs and you're molesting me? You filthy-minded sex demon," she says, though not disapprovingly.
Sliding my hand under her ass, I pull her higher so I can suck her nipple into my mouth.
"When these get engorged with milk, I'm going to squeeze them and suck on them.
" I tug on it lightly between my teeth, watching a pink flush sweep over her face.
"There is nothing, nothing hotter than my wife, carrying our child. "
"That was…" She blinks and seems to come back online. "That was oddly romantic."
Running my finger between the swelling lips of her pussy, I can feel her growing slick, her hips pressing against me. "Such a good girl, so ready for me. I'm going to fuck you until your legs give out and I have to carry you around the party tonight."
I can't take my eyes from where we're joined, the sight of my cock splitting her open. "So good," I groan. "You're made for me, aren't you Magpie?"
Her back arches, a shuddering little gasp escaping her lips as I bring her down on my cock, slowly, inch by inch. When she tries to push harder, my hands tighten on her waist. "You'll be good and take what I give you."
"Dmitri…" It couldn't quite be characterized as a whine. "Please. Fill me full."
My hips shoot up, bringing her down hard on my cock, my thumb sliding down to push on her plump little clit.
"Your breathy shriek is very gratifying," I rasp in her ear.
Lifting and dropping her again, water splashing over the sides of the tub and my mouth sucking and biting her nipples.
"Nothing could be this good, my sweet Magpie. You're mine, every tight inch of you."
Tangling our fingers together, I bring hers down to where we meet, making her feel her strained, tight entrance, her clit, rubbing hard against my thumb.
"Fitting every inch inside you… you're like fire inside, do you know that?
Every time, you burn me and all I can think about-" I lift and drop her again.
"All I can think about is, when can I get inside you again. "
Ava is bouncing on me, moaning as I pinch her clit. "Do you want to be my good girl and come?"
"Yes, please."
"You're never more polite than when you want to come," I growl.
Ava stiffens, startled when my finger finds her ass, pressing against her pucker.
She leans forward, mindlessly avoiding my finger and pressing her clit and breasts hard against me.
"We're coming together, my filthy, delicious bride. Are you ready?"
"Yes," she groans, eyes drooping shut. "Please, please, please…"
"Eyes on mine," I snap. Her eyes flutter open, breath coming faster and when my finger slides into her ass, she comes. "So fucking pretty, Magpie."
"I love you," she gasps, shaking, fingers tightening on my shoulders as I drive my hips up into her one last time, coming so hard my fucking vision dims.
We stay in the bath until the water is cold, kissing as I tell her in Russian and English that I love her, too.
While I think my wife couldn't look more beautiful than she does with kiss-swollen lips and post-sex hair, Priya, and Dasha glare at me when I bring her back upstairs, leading a slightly dazed Ava away to help her dress.
My father checks his watch, one eyebrow disapprovingly raised, but Uncle Yuri taps his glass to mine.
"I like this Ava," he grins. "You two are good together. I was worried that you'd end up as stiff and boring as your father."
There's a low growl from Father, which Uncle Yuri ignores.
***
The rooftop of the Grand SoHo is still comfortable in the crisp fall night, crowded with laughing guests and every surface covered in food and flowers.
Ava's friends from Bellevue Hospital mix with gun dealers from Moscow.
I watch one of her nurse friends playfully slap the shoulder of an Armenian smuggler who sliced the throat of the last person who dared touch him. And he smiles.
"How's everyone doing, do you think?" Ava puts her head against my shoulder, humming.
"This mix of guests is surprisingly successful." I shake my head.
"I noticed you were having - what looked like - a very congenial conversation with Mayor Warner and that smart woman from the planning board?"
"Marian Hargraves, yes. I'm not sure if I've ever seen her smile before," I say.
"Oh, that's because she was doing shots with your cute accountant from St. Petersburg, Yevgeny, right?" Ava grins. "I made sure one of the servers sent them another tray."
The Russian band strikes up a folk song and I pull Ava into the circle, the Morozov people swirling gracefully around each other in a fluid line. When Ava pulls Priya and Kabir into the sea of dancers, other guests dive in, and we're all jumping and shouting the lyrics.
"This is becoming less like an expensive party for the Beautiful People," my wife shouts, flushed and beautiful, "and more like a rave and our collective high just kicked in."
"That is… a surprisingly accurate observation," I laugh, lifting her off her feet as I swing her around.
"Gorka!" Uncle Yuri and Father shout.
"Gorka!" All the guests echo.
"Gorka," Ava says. "It means bitter, right?"
Mother hands her a glass of sparkling water, and vodka for me.
"They want us to drink and kiss," I say, running a thumb down Ava's flushed cheek. "It means, make the bitter drink taste sweet. But we have to kiss for a very long time. For good luck."
"I already have plenty of luck," she says, wrapping her arms around my neck, "six feet five worth of it. But I think…" she nibbles my ear, "you can never have too much."
My arms slide around her waist and I lift her. "All six foot five of me loves you, Ava Morozova," I whisper against her mouth.
"And all five feet three of me in heels loves you," she says, midnight blue eyes shining. "Forever."
"Always," I promise. We kiss until the guests grow hoarse from cheering us on. And then we kiss some more.