Epilogue - Alexei
My wife is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Mila stands at the end of the aisle in a white gown that accommodates her rounded belly.
Six months pregnant and radiant. Her mother fusses with the train as Leonid waits to walk her down the aisle.
Dmitri leans close and whispers, “You ready for this?”
“I’ve been ready since the moment I met her.”
He laughs and claps me on the shoulder. The music starts, and everyone rises. I watch Mila take her father’s arm. She catches my eye and smiles. That smile still does something to my chest, making it hard to breathe.
They walk toward me agonizingly slowly. Leonid holds his daughter like she might break. When they reach the altar, he kisses her cheek and places her hand in mine.
“Take care of her,” he pleads quietly.
“With my life.”
He nods, then takes his seat beside Mila’s mother. I barely register the priest’s words. I can’t focus on anything except the woman in front of me. Her hazel eyes are bright with unshed tears. This time, they’re happy ones.
“I love you,” I mouth.
She grins and mouths back, “I know.”
The ceremony passes in a rush. I say the right words at the right times, slide the ring onto her finger, and kiss her when the priest finally gives permission.
The reception takes place at the Andreev estate. Papa Andreev and Mila’s mother transformed the gardens into something out of a fairy tale. White roses and peonies everywhere. Strings of small bulbs overhead. Tables draped in silk.
Mila and I move through the crowd accepting congratulations. Dmitri and Katya. Boris and his wife. Countless heads of other families who almost turned on us at Novikov’s bidding.
“Your sister is here.” Mila nods toward the entrance.
I turn to see Sasha making her way through the crowd, looking just how I remember from when I last saw her at Christmas. Her clothes are expensive but understated. She spots us and waves.
“Alexei!” She throws her arms around me. “Congratulations.”
“You made it.”
“Did you really think I’d miss this?” She pulls back and turns to Mila. “Look at you! You’re glowing.”
Mila laughs and gestures to her belly. “I’m enormous.”
“You’re perfect.” Sasha hugs her carefully. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired. My feet hurt. The baby won’t stop kicking.”
“All worth it though, right?”
“Absolutely.”
We spend the next hour making rounds, talking to family members and business associates, and playing the role of happy newlyweds. It isn’t hard, because we are happy.
I’m refilling Mila’s water glass when a stranger approaches. He’s tall and well-dressed, with American accent, based on how he greets the bartender.
“Alexei Kozlov?” he asks.
I set down the water and turn to face him. “Who’s asking?”
“Tony Haugh.” He extends his hand. “Moscow Tribune. I appreciate you allowing press coverage of the wedding.”
I take his hand briefly. We invited one reporter because we knew the media hounds would swarm. Better to control the narrative than deal with speculation. Still, something about him puts me on edge.
“You’re the journalist they sent?”
“I am. I cover business and society news.” He hands me a business card. “Though I admit, I’ve been researching your family’s recent transition to more legitimate operations. Fascinating stuff.”
“The Tribune usually sends Nadia.”
“She’s covering another wedding tonight. I volunteered for this assignment.” He glances around the reception. “Your family’s story is compelling. Two powerful organizations merging through marriage. It’s the kind of thing readers love.”
“As long as you stick to the facts.”
“Of course. Though I think you’ll find I’ve uncovered some interesting information about your competitors. Details that might be valuable to your operations.”
Dmitri appears at my side. “Is there a problem?”
“Mr. Haugh is from the Tribune,” I tell my brother. “The reporter we authorized to cover the wedding.”
Dmitri’s eyes narrow slightly. “I see.”
Tony holds up both hands. “Just doing my job. Getting quotes, taking notes.” He glances past me toward the bar where Sasha is laughing with Katya. “Beautiful wedding. Your sister seems lovely.”
Something about the way he says it puts me on alert. “Stay away from her.”
“Relax; I’m just making conversation.” He tucks his business card into my jacket pocket. “Call me if you want to discuss what I know. Or don’t. Either way, congratulations on the marriage.”
He walks away before I can respond. Dmitri watches him go with narrowed eyes.
“You know him?” I ask.
“Never seen him. But I don’t like that they sent someone new without notice.”
“Neither do I.”
We watch Tony work through the crowd. He stops at the bar near where Sasha is standing and says something that makes her laugh. She smiles and extends her hand.
“Should I intervene?” Dmitri asks.
“Not yet, but keep an eye on him.”
Mila returns with her water and notices my mood change. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I pull her close and kiss her temple. “Just wedding day paranoia.”
She searches my face before nodding. “Okay. But you’ll tell me if something is actually wrong?”
“Always.”
The reception continues into the evening. Dinner is served, toasts are made, and Mila and I cut the cake while photographers document every moment.
I keep one eye on Sasha and Tony throughout the night. They’re still talking. She seems charmed by whatever story he’s telling. He’s too attentive, and far too interested.
“You need to relax,” Mila whispers as we dance. “You’re supposed to be enjoying your wedding.”
“I am enjoying it.”
“You’re scowling at your sister.”
“She’s talking to the reporter from the Tribune who’s covering the wedding.”
Mila glances over my shoulder toward the bar. “The American?”
“Said his name is Tony Haugh.”
“And you think he’s dangerous?”
“I think any journalist asking questions about our family is worth watching. Especially one we’ve never worked with.”
She rests her head against my chest. “Can we worry about this tomorrow? Today is ours.”
She’s right. Today is ours. We fought for this. Survived threats and violence and constant danger to get here. I’m not letting some American investigator ruin it.
“Tomorrow,” I agree.
We dance until Mila’s feet protest. Then we sit at our table surrounded by family and friends. Leonid tells embarrassing stories about Mila’s childhood, and Dmitri shares equally embarrassing stories about mine. Everyone laughs.
The night winds down slowly. Guests begin to leave, and Mila and I stand at the entrance, thanking people for coming. Sasha approaches with Tony still at her side.
“I’m heading back to my hotel,” she explains. “Early flight tomorrow.”
“Already?” Mila asks.
“I have to get back to London, but this was wonderful.” She hugs us both. “I’m so happy for you.”
Tony extends his hand again. This time, I take it just to feel his grip. Firm. Confident and calloused, I note. The handshake of someone used to getting what he wants.
“Congratulations again,” he says, “and remember what I said about that information.”
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
They leave together, with Sasha laughing at something Tony whispers. Dmitri moves to stand beside me.
“He’s trouble,” my brother observes.
“Agreed.”
“Want me to look into him?”
“Please.”
Mila tugs on my sleeve. “Can we go home now? I’m exhausted, and my feet are killing me.”
I scoop her into my arms despite her protests. “Then let’s go home, Mrs. Kozlov.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and grins. “I love the sound of that.”
“Good. Because you’re stuck with it forever.”
“Forever sounds perfect.”
I carry my wife to the car, and we drive back to the estate. Our home. Our future. Whatever Tony Haugh wants, and whatever questions he’s asking, we’ll handle it together.
Just like we handle everything else.