Epilogue
Roxy
Three Months Later
I'm in the garden with Marco, who's made it a Sunday tradition to take me out for coffee. With an event in two days, I asked him to come to the house instead.
"Kaminski didn't mess around with these flowers," he says, shaking his head.
A wide smile spreads across my face. Franklin tea flowers blanket the entire garden because my husband wanted me to enjoy my favorite flowers every day.
I have no idea how the hell he managed to get so many or make them bloom, but I can't ignore the flutter in my stomach when I look at the trees stretching across every corner of the yard.
"How's Luca doing?" I ask.
My half brother is another family member I've built a tradition with. Ever since he found out about the whole situation with Mom and Marco, he's been picking me up every Monday to drive me to the office personally.
Twenty minutes where we just talk and get to know each other. At first, the gesture felt over the top, but now it's become one of my favorite parts of the week.
"Excited, just like the rest of us," he answers with a warm smile.
A month ago, Bia, his wife, found out she's pregnant, and obviously the whole family celebrated.
We threw an intimate party with only the most important people, and that was the moment I realized I have a family.
A loud, stubborn family, but a family. Where everyone accepts me and no one judges if my hair's a mess, my skin isn't glowing, or I don't like a certain food.
"I can't wait to find out if it’s a boy or a girl," I say softly.
"The baby will be loved, and that's all that matters." He turns to me. "You seem a little lost in thought. Should I be worried? Because I can handle Kaminski and his entire security detail without breaking a sweat," he says, and despite his amused tone, I hear the truth behind his words.
A laugh escapes before I can stop it.
"No, it's just...we still haven't figured out who helped Henry. I feel like we've let our guard down," I say softly.
For a few moments, he just looks at me, then steps forward and pulls me into his arms.
"We can't live on high alert forever, Roxy. Take it from someone who did that for years. When we get a lead, we'll follow it and catch him. He's one person; we're an army."
I know he's right. We can't constantly put our lives on hold, because there will always be a threat on the horizon. But that doesn't mean I don't have moments where I'm just waiting for something bad to happen.
"I'm putting Marco on a visitation schedule," Damien says as he pulls me into his arms.
"Don't be ridiculous, he was only here for a little over an hour," I reply, laughing.
His mouth moves toward mine.
"Unacceptable. One hour without your attention on me is way too long." He kisses me.
“Stop being such a baby.”
His hands lift me up, palms positioned under my ass, and without breaking away from his mouth, I know he's carrying me toward the bed.
Only then, in the haze he induces, do I remember.
"No, no. I have work to do," I say against his lips, but somehow I keep kissing him anyway.
A lazy grin takes over his face.
"But I like keeping you busy," he says and tosses me onto the mattress.
"I haven't gotten confirmation from the DJ for the event in two days," I say weakly when he pulls his shirt off.
Actually, if I think about it, screw the event. I'll have Yuri bring his laptop and two speakers and call it a day. It'll turn out more bohemian anyway.
"You seem stressed, baby," my main source of stress tells me.
"I'm so stressed," I say sweetly, knowing this is his kryptonite.
When he sees me soft, sweet, pliant for him, the look he gives me now is my weakness. Because he looks at me like I'm some work of art, something rare, something that belongs only to him.
His hands tug my pants and underwear down, and the next moment I'm turned around, my back pressed against his chest.
I hear the sound of his zipper, every cell in me vibrating with anticipation of feeling him.
"I have the perfect remedy for your stress, s?onko."
Without being able to control myself, without even thinking about it, I push back into him. My body knows what it wants, what it needs.
His mouth positions itself somewhere between my neck and shoulder, that sensitive spot that makes me melt, and bites down gently as his cock finds my center and slides inside in one smooth thrust. The fullness, the stretch, the heat of him steals whatever coherent thought I had left.
His hands dig into my waist, holding me exactly where he wants me, and he starts to move. Slow at first, deliberate, making me feel every inch.
Then there's a knock at the door.
"Ignore it," he murmurs against my skin, his rhythm not faltering for even a second.
But obviously I can't ignore it, because a second knock echoes through the room, louder this time. More urgent.
My body goes rigid, tension replacing the pleasure that was building. Only then does Damien turn his head toward the door, annoyance radiating from him.
"I need ten minutes with my wife!" he shouts, voice carrying easily through the wood. "She's stressed!"
"Damien," I hiss, mortification flooding through me as I try to pull away from him.
But his hands don't loosen their grip on my waist at all. If anything, they tighten, fingers digging into my hips possessively. And the rhythm of him moving inside me becomes more urgent, more demanding, like he's making a point.
"Casimir came to talk about college, and Roman called saying you're not answering your phone. It's urgent."
For the love of...
"My wife is the only urgent matter right now, Vasili," Damien growls, punctuating his words with a particularly deep thrust that makes me gasp.
"And I swear to God, if you don't disappear from that door in the next five seconds, we're going to find out exactly how many days of hospitalization your workers’ comp insurance covers. "
Laughter bursts out of me, and I pull his head even closer to my neck.
I'll never get enough of him like this. Wrapped around me, possessive and playful, making me laugh even while he's inside me.
Because there were days, too many of them recently, when I watched him be consumed by everything weighing on his shoulders.
The Council politics and their endless demands.
His sister, Berna's, safety. Cas adjusting to this new life.
That other psychopath, the Guard, who got away and is still out there somewhere.
His mother rotting in whatever hole he kept her in.
All of it drained the energy that defines him, dimmed that spark that makes him Damien. And I wanted my husband back. This version, the one who threatens people through locked doors while fucking me, who makes me laugh and moan in the same breath.
A buzzing sound starts in the room, low and insistent. Before I can turn my head to locate the source, Damien positions the vibrator right over my clit, the vibrations sending shockwaves through my already oversensitized nerves.
"Oh God," I gasp.
"Not God, baby. Just me."
Within moments I'm coming apart, screaming his name loudly enough that Vasili probably heard it from wherever he retreated to. My walls clench around him rhythmically, pleasure crashing through me in waves so intense I wouldn’t be able to say my name right now.
His arms keep me pressed against him until, after a few seconds, I feel him bite my shoulder.
"I should check if that insurance covers permanent hearing loss too," he tells me, voice full of amusement as he kisses my cheek. "Because with the way you scream my name, baby, I'm going to need to cut that auditory nerve for half the house."
I'm too boneless right now to give him a proper answer, too wrung out to come up with a witty comeback. But I'm sure at some point I mumble something. Maybe a threat. Maybe agreement. Who knows.
My last memory before sleep takes me is his lips pressing against my forehead, then my other cheek, then the top of my head. Gentle and reverent.
"Love you, s?onko," he whispers.
But I'm already drifting, safe and satisfied and exactly where I belong.