Epilogue
I waddle through the hallway like a bloated penguin on a mission.
The mission? Ice cream.
And maybe also pretending I didn’t just cry over a diaper ad.
I pass one of the living room windows, pausing for a second to catch my breath. The estate grounds stretch out in every direction—manicured, secure, peaceful.
Safe.
I never thought I’d use that word about my life, let alone while living in a literal mansion with men carrying earpieces and enough security cameras to make Fort Knox blush. But it’s true. I’ve never felt safer than I do right now.
Right here.
With him.
It’s been a whirlwind of a pregnancy. So much has happened. I’m yet to believe that Nina, who I couldn’t distrust more, helped Damien find and save me. Let alone the fact that Ryan is related to her. It took me a while to wrap my head around that fact.
I’m humming to myself when I open the fridge, only to pause when I hear a car engine outside.
I glance at the clock. Damien’s not due back for another hour, and nobody else was supposed to show up today. My baby shower isn’t for a few more days, and Melanie already called this morning to remind me “no peeking at your gifts or I swear to God I’ll wrap them in barbed wire.”
So, who?—?
The front door opens.
And I freeze in the kitchen.
“Sasha?” Damien calls from the foyer. His voice has that faint hum, the one he gets when he’s trying very hard to sound casual and is failing miserably.
I step out, squinting. “You’re home early.”
He smiles. “Had a delivery.”
I frown. “What, like a package?”
And then?—
“Sasha?”
My heart actually stops. I turn around.
My mother is standing in the hallway, looking unsure, holding her purse in both hands. And beside her, taller and lankier than I remember, is my little brother with the same crooked grin he had when he was seven.
I don’t speak.
I just burst into tears.
My mother rushes forward, wrapping her arms around me in that soft but unrelenting mom-hug that somehow smells like comfort and shampoo and the past all at once.
“I—how—what are you doing here?” I finally stammer.
“She’s living here,” Damien says, coming up behind me. “Both of them. If that’s okay with you.”
I whirl on him. “You did this?”
“I made a few calls.”
“You flew them in?”
“And set them up in the west wing.”
“I’m going to cry again.”
“You already are.”
I’m sobbing, hugging my brother now while he awkwardly pats my belly like it’s a basketball he doesn’t know the rules to.
“You’re having a whole human,” he says.
“Yes, thank you, Captain Observation.”
Damien comes closer, pressing a kiss to the top of my head, and I lean back into him, overwhelmed and in awe and already forgetting about my abandoned ice cream plan.
“You didn’t have to do this,” I whisper to him.
He looks at me, his expression impossibly soft. “I know. But I wanted to.”
Dinner is louder than this house has probably heard in a decade.
My mom is talking animatedly with Ekaterina about biryani and whether Colorado has decent green chilis. My little brother is quietly shoveling pasta into his mouth like he’s in a speed-eating contest. And Damien—Damien is sitting beside me, arm brushing mine every now and then, saying nothing but taking it all in with that small, almost hidden smile that only I can read now.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look this…content.
It makes my heart twist a little.
In a good way.
The long wooden dining table that used to feel like something out of a museum now feels almost too small for all the noise and plates and energy spilling across it. For a second, I wonder what the old Damien would think of this.
But he’s no longer the man I met.
That version of him feels like he left eons ago.
And then I look at the way he’s refilling my mother’s glass and chuckling at something my brother says, and I realize…maybe he was always meant for this.
Ekaterina sets down her fork and smiles, patting her lips delicately with a napkin.
“It’s been a long time since we had this much life around the table,” she says, her voice warm and fond. “Too long.”
My mother nods, glancing toward me and Damien. “Well, it’s going to get even busier in a few weeks.”
I rub my belly instinctively. The baby gives a faint kick, like she’s already part of the conversation.
Ekaterina turns toward us slowly, eyes twinkling. “Yes, well…some of us were thinking it might be nice to have a proper celebration before the baby arrives.”
I freeze, fork halfway to my mouth. Damien shifts slightly beside me.
My mom looks suspiciously like she’s trying not to grin.
“Celebration?” I ask, pretending to play dumb, even though I absolutely know where this is going.
Ekaterina folds her hands together, her posture perfect. “Something meaningful. Traditional, perhaps. Something that makes it clear this child is coming into a family.”
She doesn’t look at Damien when she says it. She looks at me.
And then looks at Damien.
I clear my throat, cheeks burning, and suddenly the salad on my plate is the most interesting thing in the world.
“Is this…is this your way of asking me if I’m planning to marry your son?” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“I wouldn’t dare interfere,” Ekaterina says gracefully. “But I do believe in certain things being…in order.”
Damien, of course, chooses this moment to take a calm sip of his wine, as if he’s not being dragged into a family ambush.
Coward.
I glance at him. “You wanna jump in any time?”
He sets his glass down, glances around the table, and then leans closer, his voice low in my ear. “I already bought the ring.”
My eyes snap to his. “You what?”
“Didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.”
My heart practically slams against my ribs.
My mom’s looking at us like she’s watching the last ten minutes of a K-drama.
Ekaterina? Smug as hell.
I duck my head, trying to hide my blush.
* * *
It’s past midnight when he wakes me.
His hand brushes lightly over my hip, his voice a soft murmur in the dark. “Come with me.”
I blink groggily, barely able to string a sentence together. “Is it the baby? Did I pee in my sleep again?”
Damien laughs under his breath. “No. Not this time.”
I sit up, suspicious. “Then what’s going on?”
“You’ll see. Get dressed.”
He doesn’t answer any more than that, just disappears from the bedroom with that calm authority that makes even sneaking out in the middle of the night seem like a boardroom directive.
I pull on a dress and brush my hair back, my belly stretching the fabric more than I planned, but it works. I’m too curious to care.
Thirty minutes later, I’m standing at the very top of Zaitsev Tower.
The roof is cool, quiet, and endless. Above us, the stars are scattered like tiny pinholes through velvet. Below, the entire city glows. Alive. Distant. Like someone else’s dream.
He walks ahead of me, suit jacket open, hair slightly windblown, like even he is not immune to the moment.
“Why are we here?” I ask quietly.
Damien turns to me. His expression is unreadable. Then he says, “Because this is where it all started for me.”
I frown. “On the roof?”
“No,” he says, stepping closer. “In this city. In this life. Every fight, every win, every scar…it led me here. To you.”
My heart thuds.
He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls something out. A small velvet box.
Oh.
Oh.
“Sasha,” he says, voice low, steady, rough around the edges in the way that tells me he’s holding it all in. “I don’t want the big spectacle. I don’t want tuxedos or a hundred people I barely tolerate.”
I stare at him, completely frozen.
“I want you ,” he says. “To be mine. With nothing between us. Not the company. Not my past. Not even a name like Zaitsev.”
I cover my mouth with my hand.
“I have a justice of peace waiting downstairs,” he says. “It’s legal. It’s quiet. It’s exactly the kind of chaos we deserve.”
A tear slips down my cheek. “Are you serious?”
He nods. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
I laugh—half sob, half hiccup. “You’re out of your mind.”
“And still somehow the sanest I’ve ever felt.”
He opens the box.
The ring is simple. Elegant. Just like this moment. Just like us.
I take it with shaking fingers.
“Will you take me as your loving husband?” he asks.
“Yes, yes.”
“And I take you as my wife,” he says. It’s not a question. He’s just telling me. “Can I put this on your finger?”
“Yes,” I whisper. “God, yes. ”
We say our vows up there. No audience. No photos. Just the wind and the skyline and his hands in mine as I promise to love a man I once thought I hated.
He slips the ring onto my finger. I reach for his collar, and just like that, we seal our marriage with a kiss.
We’re barely inside our bedroom when Damien kicks the door shut and presses me back against it. His mouth is hungry on mine, his kiss possessive, scorching, consuming me until there’s nothing left but him.
My dress pools at our feet, and I shiver at the cool air, my skin flushed and sensitive. Damien pulls back just enough to look at me—his gaze dark and molten, trailing down over my heavy breasts, swollen and tender from pregnancy.
“I’m so big,” I say when I accidentally catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Damien comes up from behind, cupping my swollen belly. “You are beautiful, Sasha. You are the mother of my child. You’re perfect.”
I turn to face him.
My fingers tremble as I undo his shirt buttons, pushing the fabric away to expose the hard planes of his chest, muscles flexing beneath his silver-dusted skin. He lifts me easily into his arms, carrying me to our bed and laying me down gently, almost reverently.
He moves above me, kissing slowly down my throat, his tongue tracing the sensitive hollow beneath my collarbone, sending delicious heat racing across my body. When his mouth closes over my breast, I gasp, arching into him. He flicks his tongue over the hardened peak, sucking softly, sending sparks shooting through me.
“Damien,” I whisper, gripping his hair, desperate to keep him close.
His lips trail down my belly, tenderly kissing the swell that carries our child, before he moves back up to meet my eyes. His fingers slip between my thighs, gently stroking me until I’m slick and trembling beneath him.
“I need you,” I murmur.
His eyes darken further. Damien pushes his pants down, freeing his cock, hard and thick and ready. My breath catches, heat pooling low and urgent in my belly as I reach down, wrapping my fingers around him, guiding him closer.
He groans softly, leaning in to kiss me as he slowly pushes into me, filling me inch by inch until I’m stretched perfectly around him. My body hums, aching and full, and I cling tightly to him as we start to move together, slow and deep, perfectly matched.
“I love you,” he whispers roughly, pressing his forehead to mine as we rock together.
I kiss him fiercely, holding tight as pleasure builds relentlessly, tightening in my core until I shatter beneath him, crying out his name. He follows moments later, groaning deeply, spilling into me as we clutch each other, both trembling, both changed.
He brushes hair off my face and kisses my temple.
“I love you, Mrs. Zaitsev.”
I smile, eyes closed, skin flushed.
And for the first time in my entire life—I believe that love like this is real. And that it’s mine.
The End
Dear precious reader, thank you for reading Sexting the Boss!
When I finished writing the book, I couldn’t put down my pen yet… not until I wrote a little something extra special just for you.
P.S. If you enjoyed Sexting the Boss, then I think you’ll enjoy Mile High Daddy! Swipe to the next page for a sneak peek…