44. DARIA
Chapter forty-four
T he city blurred past the tinted windows as we moved through Manhattan. The dog rested his head on my lap, breathing heavily as I scratched behind his ears. His eyes drifted shut. He was completely at ease, as if he’d always belonged in my lap—never mind that twenty minutes ago, he’d nearly been butchered for swiping a slab of steak.
Braxton glanced over and gave me a small smirk. “So, are we just gonna keep calling him dog , or what?”
I flicked my eyes up at him. “You want to name him?”
“You found him. He’s your stray.”
I laughed. “Exactly. He’s mine. I get to name him.”
Braxton rolled his eyes and stretched an arm along the back of the seat. “Okay, so what’s it gonna be? Something badass? Killer? Or cute? Like…Bunny?”
I raised a brow. “You think I’d name a cane corso Bunny ?”
He grinned. “Could be funny.”
I looked down at the dog, whose scarred muzzle rested peacefully against my thigh. “You don’t strike me as a Bunny .”
“Okay, how about…” Braxton tapped his chin. “Diesel. Thor. Vader. Goliath.”
I rubbed under the dog’s chin and watched his lips twitch. “Vader’s not bad. But a bit…too obvious.”
Braxton shrugged. “Then go cute. Muffin? Snuggles?”
I gave him an exasperated look. “You want this dog to murder you in your sleep?”
He pointed at me. “You smiled. You smiled at Snuggles.”
“No, I smirked. At your stupidity.”
“Tomato, tomahto.”
I turned back to the dog. “What about—Riot?”
His tail thumped once.
“Riot?” Braxton repeated. “Not bad. Got that rebel edge.”
“But he’s not just a fighter,” I said. “He’s a survivor. Loyal. Smart.” I narrowed my eyes, continuing to try to come up with the perfect name.
The limo slowed to a stop, but I didn’t look up right away; I was still focused on the dog. “Stay here, handsome,” I told him. “We’ll be right back.”
Braxton slid out of his seat and turned toward me, extending a hand. “Come on.”
I took it instinctively, but when I stepped out of the car and looked past him, my knees nearly buckled.
My breath caught, and my hand flew to my mouth. “Oh my God.”
He said nothing, just stood there with that crooked half smile on his face. He looked sheepish, nervous…as if he wanted to ask me to follow him but was unsure if I’d go.
Across the sidewalk stood a man in a tailored suit, holding open the door to Harry Winston—a name I’d only ever heard whispered in high-society circles back in Moscow. The lighting inside sparkled like the stars in the heavens.
I turned back to Braxton, heart hammering. “What is this?”
“That conversation I had with Nikolai earlier…” He shrugged. “Told him I needed a favor.”
“You can’t just— This is Fifth Avenue.”
“I know exactly where we are.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “Come on, my lovely wife. Let’s go see if we can find a diamond even half as beautiful as you.”
My lips parted, but no words came out. I was still frozen, overwhelmed. But his hand stayed firmly wrapped around mine, tugging me forward. I followed.
“Thank you,” Braxton told the doorman, who nodded and held the door open wider. We stepped into a world of quiet elegance and pristine glass, where soft music floated through the air and diamonds glittered under museum-quality lighting.
A poised woman in a charcoal-colored suit approached us. “Welcome. I’m Amelia,” she said. “I’ll be assisting you today.”
Braxton offered her his hand. “Braxton Thorin. This is my wife.”
Amelia smiled at me with genuine warmth. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Thorin. We’ve been expecting you.” She turned slightly. “We’ve prepared a private viewing room. May I offer you a glass of champagne to mark the occasion?”
“Yes, please,” I managed to say.
She took my free hand, the one not clutched in Braxton’s, and examined it briefly, her trained eyes flicking across my fingers.
A moment later, she stepped over to a man stationed beside a glass display and whispered something to him. He replied, “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of it now.”
Amelia returned with a graceful smile. “Right this way.”
She led us toward the back of the store, to a quiet and curated world where people chose forever.
Amelia couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m thrilled to be assisting you both today. I have no doubt we’ll find the perfect piece.”
She gestured to a formal antique desk situated in the center of the private room. It was made of polished cherry wood and had clawed feet. Velvet-covered armchairs sat on either side of it. She moved to stand behind the desk, her posture straight and confident, then motioned for Braxton and me to sit.
I sank into the chair beside him, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that we were here at all—at a jewelry broker’s on Fifth Avenue. My pulse hadn’t stopped hammering since we’d stepped inside.
A woman in black and cream suit entered with a silver tray, her movements fluid. Two flutes of champagne sat balanced perfectly on the tray. She placed one in front of each of us with a courteous smile and then stepped out without a word.
Braxton didn’t say anything; he just reached over and rested his hand on my knee under the table, his thumb brushing it in small, steady circles as I dreamily watched the bubbles rise in my glass.
The man I’d seen earlier near the display cases came in next, carrying a large velvet tray. Even from across the room, the diamonds caught the light and threw it around like they were made of ice and fire.
My eyes widened, and Braxton chuckled as the diamonds were placed in front of me.
Amelia leaned in slightly. “Do you have a favorite style, Mrs. Thorin?”
Mrs. Thorin.
I glanced sideways at Braxton, not trusting my voice yet. He grinned at me and nodded toward the tray. “Go on. Pick one.”
My gaze slid across the rows. There were so many to choose from—cushion cut, emerald, oval, round. Some were massive, others more delicate. Amelia explained the cuts, the color grading, the clarity, and that every diamond here was certified using detailed mapping. I only half heard her.
My eyes kept drifting back to the same ring—a marquise-cut diamond, long and tapered like a flame, set on a thin platinum band. It wasn’t the biggest. It wasn’t surrounded by extra stones or wrapped in anything flashy. It was clean. Strong. Stunning in its simplicity.
Braxton’s hand left my knee. He reached forward without hesitation and plucked the ring from the tray, holding it between his thumb and forefinger like he already knew it was the one.
Before I could say a word, he pushed back from his chair and dropped to one knee in front of me.
As I turned to face him, the room disappeared. All I saw was him.
He took my hand and held the ring near the tip of my finger.
“My love has no borders, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Wherever you are, wherever you choose to be, I will be at your side.”
I stared into those pools of golden brown shimmering in the light.
“I didn’t know someone like you could exist,” he went on. “You’re not just beautiful—though, Jesus, Daria…you are. You walk into a room like a ballerina trained in war. Your body is carved from grace and steel, and your stunning blue eyes cut through everything, seeing into my very soul.”
I swallowed hard, barely able to breathe.
“But what gets me—what made me fall for you—is your fire. You fight with everything you have, holding your own whether it’s a battle of wits or hand-to-hand combat. You protect people, those who can’t fight for themselves—whether it’s a child caught in the crossfire of an unjust war or a man who has lost his way like those stray dogs you’re always drawn to. You risked your life for others and never lost your soul.”
His thumb brushed against my knuckles.
“You didn’t just survive hell—you let it give you a purpose. You made it mean something. Daria, you’re my hero .”
My eyes burned, but I didn’t blink.
“I’ll have you and hold you until death do us part because I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You didn’t get to choose your past or your name. But I want you to choose if you give me your heart.”
The ring hovered at the tip of my finger.
“Daria…will you marry me?”
My throat closed. All I could do was nod as tears welled in my eyes.
“Yes,” I whispered, barely able to form the word.
Braxton slid the ring onto my finger. The fit was flawless, a perfect match—as though it had always been mine.
I flung my arms around his neck and kissed him with all my heart.
And for one brilliant, unexpected moment—I believed in forever.
Braxton pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against mine. He brushed his thumb along my cheek as he whispered, “I love you.”
The words warmed every part of me. I didn’t say anything at first; I just held onto the weight of them. Then he slid back into the chair beside me, lacing our fingers together.
Amelia smiled warmly. “It’s the perfect ring,” she said, then turned toward me. “Now, let’s find the band that will be the ideal pairing.”
I was still caught somewhere between floating and crying.
She gestured toward a sleek velvet tray sitting behind her, then selected a delicate platinum band wrapped in small diamond baguettes, designed to nestle perfectly against the marquise-cut diamond on my finger. I looked down and smiled. “It’s lovely.”
Then it hit me, and I turned to Braxton. “You need a band too.”
Amelia perked up, her gaze dropping to study his hand. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”
Braxton offered his hand, and she examined it with the kind of precision that made her seem more surgeon than jeweler. “I have a few ideas,” she said after a moment, then stepped away to place a request on the small intercom.
I couldn’t stop staring at my ring. I turned my hand slowly, watching the light scatter through the stone. How had this man—quiet, solid, unshakable—walked into my life and made me want things I’d never thought I could have?
No one had ever seen me like he did. He viewed me not as a weapon, a pawn, or a means to an end. To him I was just…Daria. Or maybe Dasha, I guess. My name didn’t matter at that moment. He knew who I was, knew the parts of me I’d buried so deeply that no one ever saw.
The man returned with another tray, this one lined with heavier, broader rings. No stones, just clean, bold bands crafted from a variety of metals.
Braxton glanced at them, then looked at me. “You pick. I trust you’ll know the right one.”
My fingers hovered over the selection before I landed on one—brushed platinum, thick enough to match his hand but with a soft curve that mirrored mine. Timeless. Solid. Strong.
I held out my hand.
Braxton placed his in mine.
I slid the ring onto his finger slowly, watching the way it settled into place. Then I tugged him forward and brought his ear close to my lips.
“We’re tied now,” I whispered, “not just by a vow but by blood, by every fight we’ve had to survive to get here. This isn’t just love, Braxton. This is forever.”
Then, giving me a smile that reached all the way through me, he leaned close. “Of course, my beautiful wife. In all things, I’m yours. Completely.”
The kiss we shared after that was nothing short of reckless—our mouths colliding in a wave of emotion that neither of us could hold back.
Amelia cleared her throat. “I’m still here, you two.”
We broke apart, laughing. My cheeks were flushed, but I didn’t care.
Braxton turned to her. “So…what do I owe you?”
Amelia’s eyes sparkled. “Oh, that’s already been taken care of, Mr. Thorin.”
He raised an eyebrow. “By who?”
“The owner of the security firm that’s kept our store safe for the last several years,” she said. “He made all the arrangements.”
Braxton bounced his eyebrows at me. “See? Nikolai’s not all bad.”
“Just mostly,” I replied with a grin.
He chuckled, then checked the time. “We really need to get moving. Tacoma’s a long flight, and you still need to meet the family.”
I slid my hand into his as we stood. “I think I’ll like Samantha and Anastasia.”
“Oh, I know you will,” he said. “Sam’s a fiery redhead who once made our attending physician back down in the ED, then turned around and melted his icy heart. And Anastasia? She’s Nikolai with longer hair. Thank God Conan’s laid back enough to keep her from burning the world down.”
I laughed. “They sound like my kind of women.”
We stepped out of the private room, and the doorman saw us out. The limo waited right at the curb.
Braxton opened the door for me.
I slid in, immediately reaching down to rub the dog’s giant head. “You were such a good boy, waiting for Mommy.”
Braxton settled in beside me as I lifted my hand to let the light hit the ring. “Look, handsome. Mommy’s got a shiny new ring.”
The dog blinked slowly, then let out a low, approving bark.
Braxton rolled his eyes. “It’s good to know I’ve got the dog’s approval.”
I grinned. “That’s it! Handsome. That’s his name.”
Braxton groaned. “You can’t name him Handsome. That’s not a name. That’s… I don’t even know what that is.”
“It’s perfect,” I said, scratching the dog’s ear. “And he loves it.”
Braxton raised an eyebrow. “So what—you want me to stand in some park yelling, Come, Handsome! That’s a good boy, Handsome ?”
“Actually?” I laughed. “Yes. I’d pay money to witness that.”
He shook his head. “You are going to be the end of me.”
I leaned over, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “No. I’m the beginning.”
We pulled away from the curb and headed for Teterboro.
A home wasn’t something I’d ever had. But I realized, right then, that wherever Braxton was, that was where I wanted to be.