Epilogue
Six Months Later
Mireille
It's a rainy evening. Dmitri is standing by the stove, sleeves rolled up, stirring something that smells incredible. The faint sound of jazz hums from the speaker on the counter, his preferred background whenever he’s cooking.
Our version of date night.
We sometimes dine out, but these are the best nights—the ones where we stay home, play soft music, and share quiet laughter. I'll take that over fancy, sometimes overcrowded restaurants any day.
I sit at the island, chin in my hand, watching him move around the kitchen shirtless, the defined muscles of his arms and chest flexing deliciously with each movement. I still can’t believe I live here now—in Dmitri's penthouse. It felt like a dream the first time I unpacked a box here.
Things couldn’t be any better. I’m in my final year at Fordham, counting down to graduation and LSAT prep. Law school is still the plan—criminal defense, if only because life has a dark sense of humor. Sometimes, Dmitri teases me, saying I just want to be ready to bail him out one day.
Maybe he’s right.
It took me time to accept what he does, who he is…
But I've come to learn that love isn’t about reshaping someone into something safer.
It’s about knowing the truth and choosing them anyway.
So I stopped asking for details. Like my mother, I decided I’d rather live in peace than in constant fear of answers I can’t unhear.
Dmitri looks up at me, his beautiful dark eyes warm as they search my face.
He always does this—trying to guess what I'm thinking.
“Penny for your thoughts, my love,” he finally says, his eyes still on mine.
“I'd rather have some of that amazing food,” I reply with a cheeky smile, gesturing at the pan on the stove.
He grins. “You can have it all, moya kukolka. And the world, if you desire it.”
My heart skips at his words, my cheeks heating up under his gaze. “I love you, Dima.”
His gaze softens, and for a moment, he gives me a glimpse of his soul through those beautiful eyes.
“And I love you, moya kukolka. Now, let me—oh, shit!” He curses as a burnt smell starts to fill the room. He turns around quickly to salvage our dinner while I watch with amusement.
Again, these are the best nights…
I'm so grateful for the peace I've found with Dmitri. And that's incredibly ironic, given the chaos of the world he lives in.
Dad's fears were unfounded, after all.
I feel a familiar knot in my chest at the thought of my father.
Things haven't been the same between us since the incident with Sergei, although he kept his word. He got the Bureau to drop the investigation, then retired. He and my mom moved to Vermont, where things are quiet and green and far away from all the chaos of the city. They’re still rebuilding, still learning how to talk without walls between them.
Dad’s learned to keep his opinions about Dmitri to himself, and honestly, that’s all I could ask for.
A few weeks after everything happened, Alexei told us the DNA results came back. Sergei wasn’t their brother. The truth was simpler…and sadder. His mother hadn’t been murdered. She abandoned him. She gave him up to the system, fled the state, and overdosed two years later.
I think about him sometimes—about how a man could lose himself in a lie because the truth hurt too much.
But tonight isn’t for ghosts.
It’s for us.
Dmitri comes to stand in front of me, crowding me with his broad frame. My pulse jumps in response, a familiar heat pooling between my legs.
“Tell me what's going through your beautiful head?” he murmurs, running the back of his hand lightly over my cheek.
My skin heats up under his touch. It's hard to think when he's standing this close. My hands itch to run over his warm skin and lean in to…
“Now, I really want to know what's going on in that pretty head,” Dmitri says with a knowing smirk, then leans in to give me a quick kiss. “But before that…” He trails off and turns off the stove, picks up a spoon, and scoops some of the soup from the saucepan. He holds it out to me. “Taste.”
The thick broth glides over my tongue, hot and rich. I hum in approval. “Delicious.”
“Glad you like it,” he says with a fond chuckle. Then he proceeds to hand me a spoon and take another for himself. We eat from the same bowl, just like we always do on nights like this, flirting and laughing in between bites.
After dinner, we retire to the living room and sit by the fire with our chessboard between us on the table, a half-full bottle of wine, and two half-empty wine glasses.
“I'm feeling generous tonight. I might even let you win,” I tease, reaching for one of the gleaming white chess pieces. Dmitri always chooses black. I always take white. He says it’s because I’m the light to his dark—his balance.
I always joke about how that sounds corny, but also really cute.
We start to play, and from the slight knit of Dmitri's brows, I can tell he's taking the game seriously.
I have a plan, though…
And the perfect opportunity comes when I capture one of his pawns. I smile, holding his gaze as I slowly tug off my cardigan, tossing it aside.
I have come a long way from the shy virgin I was six months ago, and seeing the flare of hunger in Dmitri's darkened eyes makes my heart surge with pride.
“What are you doing?” His voice is dangerously low and husky.
“Changing the rules,” I say as innocently as I can manage, then I gesture to the board. “Your turn.”
He leans back slowly in his chair, lips curving. “You’re making it hard to focus.”
“Good,” I whisper. “That’s the point.”
He shakes his head with mock disapproval, but there’s a teasing glint in his eyes. “You cheat beautifully.”
“Thank you.”
The game continues, slower now, with more heat than strategy. Every time I take a piece, his focus drifts a little further from the board— I capture his knight and slip out of my blouse. His rook falls, and my bra follows. I can tell he’s letting me win, but I don’t care.
Finally, I slide my queen into position and look up at him with a cheeky grin. “Checkmate.”
Dmitri looks at the board, then at me, that dangerous smile spreading across his face. “You really think you won?”
I fold my arms over my bare chest. “You don’t see the board? That’s definitely a checkmate.”
He leans forward, his eyes roaming my body, lingering on my peaked nipples with deliberate slowness. “No, baby girl. We both won this game.”
My breath hitches at his tone of voice, my body tightening in response.
Dmitri pushes the coffee table away roughly, knocking the chessboard to the floor—but neither of us cares.
I lunge into his arms even as he pulls me not-so-gently against his body.
He captures my mouth in a deep, toe-curling kiss, teasing my bottom lip with his teeth.
I whimper, running my palms over his chest and shoulders like I've been dying to do all evening.
He drags his mouth away from mine, lowering it to my nipple.
He suckles gently, rolling his tongue over my aching flesh.
I let out another soft moan as pleasure zips through my body.
Dmitri pushes me gently back onto the rug, trailing his mouth down my chest to my stomach, until his head is buried between my thighs.
“Oh, God…” I breathe, my body jerking involuntarily as his tongue slides over my clit.
“Fuck, you're so wet already, my love,” Dmitri growls, suckling my clit. He drags his beard across my inner thighs, increasing the sensation.
I fist his hair, pulling his head more firmly against me. “Harder.”
He raises his head to look at me with a smirk.
“Bossy, are we?” he teases, his smirk growing wider when I blush. “I like it.”
He lowers his mouth to me again and sucks harder, like I asked.
“Oh, God. Yes!” I cry out, tightening my fists in his hair.
He flicks his tongue, circling my throbbing clit. My breath is coming out in needy pants now, my body writhing restlessly beneath him, begging for release.
Then he slips two fingers inside me, curving them upward to that spot deep inside while he continues to suckle my flesh. I arch off the floor, releasing his hair to claw at his shoulders as my body trembles violently.
“Oh my God!” I cry as a familiar yet unbearable pressure starts to build in my core.
“Yes, that's it! Come for me, kukolka,” Dmitri says against my aching flesh, and a wave of pleasure crashes through my body.
“I need to feel you inside me,” I pant, my voice dripping with a desperate urgency.
I’m shameless now, and I don’t care. I just want him inside of me, filling me up…
“As my lady pleases,” he says with a teasing smile that does nothing to hide the raw hunger in his eyes.
He spreads my thighs and wedges himself between them, then nudges the tip of his cock past my entrance, slowly sliding into me.
The sound of our combined moans fills the room, the pleasure zapping through my entire body in electric waves.
“Fuck,” he groans, sinking all the way until he's fully buried deep in me.
Oh, this is divine.
Then, he starts to move, teasing me with drawn-out, hard thrusts until I feel like I might actually combust. I can feel myself getting closer with each stroke. I wrap my legs around his waist, squeezing him closer with my heels.
“You’re so fucking sexy. So beautiful, baby girl,” Dmitri mutters into my ear, kissing my jaw, my neck, every part of my face. “You're perfect, Mireille.”
I moan in response.
“Your pussy is so sweet I could fuck you all night,” he says, thrusting faster and harder. My nails dig deeper into his back. I love when he talks like this, his sexy, deep voice vibrating against my skin.
He slows down his pace, reaching out to trail his thumb gently over my cheekbone, drawing out the moment. The tenderness in his eyes is my last straw…and I let go.
My walls contract around his cock, spasming uncontrollably. I squeeze my thighs against his hips until he loses control. He lets out a deep growl, his body shaking with the strength of his orgasm.
***
Dmitri