Chapter 39 Mila
Mila
Three weeks after Novikov’s death, I’m planning a wedding.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
Almost a year ago, I refused an arranged marriage to this same man.
Now I’m sitting in his office surrounded by fabric swatches and floral arrangements, trying to decide between roses and peonies.
“The white roses,” Katya suggests from her spot on the couch. She points to the sample on the left. “They’re classic. Elegant. Very you.”
I hold up the peony sample next to it. “These feel more romantic.”
“Then go with both.” She grins and adds, “It’s your wedding. You can have whatever you want.”
Alexei appears in the doorway with his phone pressed to his ear. He’s been on calls all morning dealing with the legal aftermath of the attack. Bodies. Property damage. Witness statements to coordinate.
He ends the call and crosses to where I’m sitting as he kisses the top of my head. “How’s the planning going?”
“We’re debating flowers.”
“Whatever you want is fine with me.”
I tilt my head back to look at him. “You’re supposed to have an opinion.”
“My opinion is that I want to marry you as soon as possible.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “Everything else is just details.”
“Details matter.”
“Not as much as you do.”
Katya makes a gagging sound from the couch. “You two are disgustingly sweet. I love it.”
Alexei’s phone rings again. He glances at the screen and sighs. “I need to take this.”
He steps out of the office, leaving Katya and me alone with the wedding samples. I set down the flowers and lean back in my chair. My hand moves to my belly. At twelve weeks pregnant, I can tell that my stomach is changing.
“Have you thought about the dress?” Katya asks.
“I have an appointment next week with a designer Papa suggested.” I pause and correct myself. “That Papa and Mama both suggested.”
Katya’s eyebrows rise. “Your mother is involved in the planning?”
“She called yesterday. We talked for an hour about venue options and guest lists.” I still can’t quite believe it. “She even offered to help with the preparations.”
“That’s wonderful, Mila.”
“It is.” And I mean it. The conversations with my mother have been awkward at times, full of carefully chosen topics and old wounds we’re both trying to heal. But we’re trying. That’s what matters.
The office door opens, and Papa walks in. He looks better than he did three weeks ago. The bruises from his captivity have faded, and his limp is barely noticeable.
He crosses to me and kisses my forehead. “You look beautiful, Mila.”
“I look pregnant,” I scoff.
“Beautiful and pregnant.” He glances at the wedding samples spread across the desk. “How is the planning coming?”
“Slowly. There are too many decisions to make.”
“Then let me simplify one for you.” He pulls an envelope from his jacket pocket. “Your mother and I would like to host the reception at the estate. We’ve already begun preparations.”
I take the envelope and open it. Inside are photos of our family property. The gardens have been restored, and the ballroom has been renovated. Everything is fresh and new.
“Papa, this is too much.”
“It’s not nearly enough.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Let me do this for you. For both of you.”
Alexei returns to the office before I can respond. He takes one look at the photos and nods. “The estate is perfect. Thank you, Leonid.”
Papa looks pleased. “Good. It’s settled then.”
Dmitri appears in the doorway behind Alexei. “Sorry to interrupt, but we need to finalize the alliance documents.”
“Now?” Alexei asks.
“The lawyers are waiting.”
Alexei looks at me. I wave him off. “Go. Katya and I can handle the flowers.”
He kisses me once more before following Dmitri out. Papa lingers for a moment, studying the wedding samples with an expression I can’t quite read.
“What is it?” I ask.
“I’m proud of you, Mila.” His voice is rough with emotion. “You chose your path. Made your own decisions. That takes courage.”
“I learned from the best.”
He smiles and leaves the office. Katya and I return to the flowers, but my mind keeps drifting to everything that’s changed these past few months.
Dr. Orlov visits later that afternoon for my regular checkup. He sets up his equipment in one of the guest rooms that’s been converted to a temporary medical space until the estate is repaired.
“How are you feeling?” he asks as I settle onto the examination table.
“Tired. And nothing smells or tastes good.”
“All normal for twelve weeks.” He helps me lie back and lifts my shirt to expose my belly. The cold gel makes me flinch.
Alexei slips into the room and takes my hand. He never misses these appointments, even though they are more frequent than any normal woman at my stage of pregnancy.
Dr. Orlov moves the ultrasound wand across my stomach. The baby’s heartbeat fills the room through the monitor, strong and steady.
“Everything looks good,” Dr. Orlov confirms. “Baby is measuring right on track. Heart rate is perfect.”
“And Mila’s blood pressure?” Alexei asks.
“Much improved. Whatever you’re doing to reduce her stress is working.”
I catch Alexei’s eye and smile. Eliminating the threat of imminent death does wonders for stress levels.
Dr. Orlov finishes the exam and helps me sit up. “I want to see you again in two weeks. Sooner if you notice any concerning symptoms.”
“I will.”
He packs up his equipment and leaves us. Alexei pulls me close and rests his chin on top of my head. One hand splays across my belly so tenderly that it brings tears to my eyes.
“Are you nervous?” I ask him.
He chuckles. “Terrified.”
I pull back to look at him. “Really?”
“I have no idea how to be a father, Mila. What if I’m terrible at it?”
“You won’t be.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” I take his face in my hands. “You’re loyal and protective, and you love fiercely. That’s all our baby needs.”
He searches my eyes for a long moment before kissing me. It’s soft, sweet, and full of promise.
“Marry me soon,” he says against my lips.
“How soon?”
“Tomorrow. Before you get too pregnant to walk down the aisle.”
I laugh and swat his chest. “I’m not that pregnant.”
“You’re perfect.” He slides his hands around my waist. “But I want you to be my wife before our child is born.”
“Then we’ll make it happen.”
The next several weeks run together in a whirlwind of final preparations. Katya helps me find the perfect dress. Papa coordinates with the caterers and the musicians. Mama calls every few days with suggestions and updates.
I finish my final semester of graduate school while planning a wedding and preparing for a baby.
Getting reinstated wasn’t easy. Then again, nothing about this semester was.
The university administration refused to budge until Alexei made it clear that the Kozlov family had offered to fund a new international law building.
Suddenly, my academic standing wasn’t such a problem.
I should probably feel guilty about the bribery, but mostly, I’m grateful to finish what I started.
Some days I’m so exhausted that I can barely function, but Alexei is there every step of the way. Rubbing my feet. Bringing me tea. Holding me when the weight of everything feels too heavy.
One evening, I’m sitting in the newly renovated library reviewing my thesis when Alexei finds me. He drops into the chair beside mine and pulls my feet into his lap.
“How’s the work coming?” he asks while massaging my ankles.
“Almost done. I’ll submit it next week.”
“And then?”
“And then, I’ll have my Ph.D.” I set down my papers and look at him. “What are we going to do after the wedding? After the baby?”
“What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. I never thought I’d make it this far.” The admission surprises me. “Just a few months ago, I thought my life was over. That marrying into your world meant giving up everything I wanted.”
“And now?”
“Now, I realize I was wrong. This life with you is everything I want. You are everything I want.”
He kisses me, long and slow and thorough. When we finally break apart, he’s smiling.
“I love you, Zaika.”
“I love you, too.”
I feel the slightest flutter in my stomach, the first time I’ve felt the baby move, and I suck in a gasp. “I think someone agrees.”
“Good.” He presses his hand to my belly, reading the smile on my face. “Because this is forever. You, me, and our family. No more running or fighting, just us building something real.”
I rest my forehead against his. “Just us building something real,” I repeat.
And for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of what comes next. The threats are gone. The danger has passed. All that’s left is love and the future we’re creating together.
Forever starts now.