Epilogue
Six Months Later
Alexei
My wife looks perfectly at home on the stage. Perfectly beautiful.
I, along with a thousand other spectators, hold my breath as the first notes of her aria rise. It's a common effect she has on her fans all around the world—including me.
I’ve seen her perform more times than I can count, but every damn time, it hits me like the first. Tonight, though…tonight, she’s something else entirely.
Her voice is soft at first, aching with loss, then it swells with pure power wrapped in silk. The song is about love broken and found again after an impossible distance.
It’s about us. Every note resonates.
My chest tightens with emotions that still feel unfamiliar even after all this time—that overwhelming rush of love, tenderness and gratefulness.
She most likely can’t see me out here because of the bright lights, but it almost feels like she’s looking right at me. Singing to me.
Singing for me.
Dmitri leans over, a smug smirk spreading across his face. “You’ve gone soft, brother. Look at you. Eyes all glassy. Didn’t think I’d live to see the day Alexei Balshov turned into a sentimental idiot.”
“Being in love doesn’t make me soft,” I murmur without taking my eyes off her. “It makes me even more dangerous.”
Dmitri snorts. “Sure it does.”
“I mean it,” I say, turning my head slightly toward him. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect her. Nothing. You’ll understand when it happens to you.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen,” Dmitri says, folding his arms. “I’ve seen what Yuri did to the ones he claimed to love. He's got me all messed up in the head.”
A flicker of heat crawls up my spine–not anger, exactly. More like old sadness.
Our father’s ghost still walks among us, whispering through the cracks he left behind. Even after death, he’s still somehow managed to maintain some level of control.
Cruel old bastard.
I shift forward in my seat, my eyes trained on Anya as she reaches the final crescendo, her voice soaring high enough to shake heaven itself. My wife. My redemption. The proof that the Balshov name can mean something other than blood and power.
When the last note fades, the silence stretches for a beat before the audience erupts into applause. People rise to their feet, clapping, cheering, even whistling.
I don’t move. I just sit there, soaking her in.
Anya bows, smiling through her tears. She’s glowing…alive, free. Unbelievably beautiful
And in that moment, I make myself a promise…no matter what it takes, no matter what ghosts try to crawl out of the dark, I’ll do anything to protect that gorgeous smile.
Dmitri was definitely wrong. Love doesn’t make me weaker. It makes me invincible.
***
Anya
The after-party is filled with close family and friends. I walk around, greeting familiar faces and some not so familiar ones. Everyone's smiling at me, and my cheeks actually hurt from smiling so hard all evening.
I'm beyond happy and blessed.
I can't believe I finally did my first performance with the Metropolitan Opera. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of—and more.
I move through the room, glittering in the dress Alexei insisted I wear—a silvery thing that catches the light every time I turn. He said it makes me look like a star. I believe him.
I spot Katya across the room, sitting stiffly on the couch beside a woman with bright red lips, who’s chatting animatedly. Katya’s pretending to listen, but her eyes keep darting toward the food table like something over there might attack her.
I pluck two glasses of champagne from a passing tray and weave through the crowd until I reach her. “You look like you could use this,” I tease, offering her one.
She shakes her head a little too quickly. “No thanks. I… uh, I’m not drinking tonight.”
That’s strange. Katya loves champagne. “Why? Are you sick?”
She hesitates, biting her lip, and then I see it. The faint flush on her cheeks, the way her hand rests on her stomach. My mouth falls open. “Katya. Oh my God. You’re—”
“Don’t,” she warns softly, eyes wide. “Not here.”
I lower my voice. “You’re pregnant?”
She lets out a defeated exhale, then nods once. “I didn’t want to say anything yet. Tonight’s about you.”
Before I can press her further, a server passes with a tray of sushi, and the moment the scent hits, Katya pales. “Excuse me,” she mutters and rushes toward the bathroom.
I’m still staring after her when Alexei appears beside me, tall and impossibly composed. His hand slides around me, settling on the small of my back. “Is Katya all right?”
“She will be,” I say, turning toward him with a smile. The sight of him in a black suit, crisp white shirt, and the faint shadow of stubble still steals my breath. My husband. I may never get used to the title, but I'll forever love it.
He studies me with those ocean-blue, searching eyes. “You’re not drinking either,” he notes.
I laugh softly. “Trying to stay clear-headed enough to remember all of this.”
He leans in, his lips brushing my temple. “Come with me.”
Before I can ask where, he takes my hand and leads me outside. The night air bites at my skin, cool and sharp after the warmth inside. He shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around me before I can protest. It smells like him…cedar, smoke, and something darker. I melt into it.
We stand on the patio, just the two of us, the city lights glittering like distant stars. “Do you remember this spot?” I ask quietly.
He smiles, slow and knowing. “It's where we shared our first kiss.”
I nod. “And you rejected me right after.”
He leans forward to place a soft kiss on my forehead. “I have forever to apologize for that.”
“You don't have to,” I say, smiling into his eyes. “I forgave you long ago.”
He turns me in his arms until I’m facing him. “Do you ever think about how far we’ve come?”
“All the time.” My throat tightens a little. “And now I can't imagine life without you in it.”
He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, that same tender gesture he’s done a hundred times, yet it still undoes me. “Me too, milaya,” he murmurs. “Life without you would be meaningless.”
His words wrap around me like a warm vow.
“So, tell me, moya zvezda,” he says, searching my face. “Now that you've had your big moment on stage, what comes next?”
I hesitate, suddenly shy. “I think…I want to start a family.”
Something flickers in his eyes—warmth, surprise, maybe something deeper. “You’re sure?”
I nod. “I think it’s time.”
A slow, excited smile spreads across his handsome face, making him look almost boyish. “I’ve been ready since the moment I brought you back to New York.”
“Really?”
“Yes, milaya…” His smile turns mischievous. “You know what? I think we should start now.”
“Wh—”
Before I can complete the word, his mouth captures mine, deep and demanding.
My protest dies in my throat, my body already melting into his.
The world around us instantly disappears into the background, replaced by the rush of my heartbeat and the taste of him.
He guides me gently, his hands firm on my hips, steering me toward the darker corner of the patio, away from the door and the party lights.
He presses my back against the cool stone wall without taking his mouth off mine. I gasp into his mouth as my back hits the wall, my fingers fisting his shirt. His jacket slips from my shoulders, forgotten.
“I need to be inside of you, milaya” he whispers urgently against my lips, dragging his mouth to my neck. “Now.”
“Yes, please,” I say breathlessly.
He turns me around not so gently, and I brace my hands on the wall, pressing back against him. Alexei lets out a low growl, his hands sliding up my thighs, bunching my dress at my waist.
I hear the sound of him undoing his zipper, and before I know it, he pushes my panties aside and slides into me in one long, surprisingly slow stroke.
I let out a throaty moan, my walls contracting around him as an electric thrill races through my entire body and soul.
“Fuck,” he mutters as he sinks all the way into me until he’s completely sheathed in my warmth.
“Oh, Alexei...” I moan, dropping my forehead against the cool wall.
He starts to move, teasing me with drawn-out, deep thrusts. Our breathing syncs as he rocks into me and fucks me. Hard. Slow. And then harder again.
“I… Oh my God, I'm so close,” I warn brokenly, grinding back against him to match his rhythm.
“You’re so fucking sexy. So beautiful, milaya,” he growls into my ear, kissing my neck, my shoulders, everywhere his mouth can reach. “You're perfect, Anya.”
I moan in response.
“Your pussy is so sweet. I could fuck you all night,” he says, thrusting faster and harder. My nails press into the wall, but I don't mind. I just want to let go of the ache building inside of me. Or maybe hold on to it.
He slows the pace, running his hands tenderly down my arm, deliberately drawing out the moment.
And suddenly, he pulls out almost all the way out, then slams back into me in one deep thrust. I press my hand to my mouth to muffle the scream that rises in my throat, my body shaking uncontrollably as my orgasm crashes over me.
Alexei is not far behind. He lets out a guttural growl, his powerful body tensing behind me even as his arm comes around me to hold me steady.
“Ya tebya lyublyu, moya zayka,” he murmurs fervently into my hair.
“I love you, too…” I say, leaning back into him with a contented smile. “...moy muzh.”
~The End
For more reads click here!