42. Forty-Two #3
Eventually, he shifted to lie beside me, drawing me against his chest with one arm.
His heartbeat was strong and steady beneath my ear, a rhythm I’d come to find oddly comforting.
His fingers traced lazy patterns on my bare skin, mapping the curves and hollows of my body as if committing them to memory.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice gentle in the darkness.
“I’m thinking that I never expected this,” I finally whispered, my fingers tracing the scar that ran along his ribs. “Any of it.”
His hand found my hair, stroking it gently in a gesture so tender it made my chest ache. “Expected what?”
“To feel . . .” I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. Feelings had always been dangerous in my world—weaknesses to be exploited, vulnerabilities to be hidden. “To feel like I belong somewhere. To someone.”
Arrow’s arms tightened around me, pulling me closer against his chest. I could feel his heartbeat quickening beneath my cheek.
“You’ve always belonged with me,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “From the moment I saw you at that gala three years ago, in that red dress, looking at everyone like they were beneath you.”
I lifted my head, surprised. “You remember that night?”
“I remember everything about you,” he admitted, his fingers tracing my spine.
“The way you laughed with your head thrown back, completely unaware that every man in that room was staring. The way you looked at your father when he introduced you to potential suitors—like you were calculating how quickly you could make them disappear.”
I smiled against his chest, remembering that night.
I’d worn a red dress that had scandalized my father’s more conservative associates, my hair loose around my shoulders instead of in the demure updo he’d requested.
It had been an act of rebellion, one of many small defiances that had defined our relationship.
“I was calculating exactly that,” I confessed. “I hated those parties. All those men looking at me like I was a prize to be won, a way to get closer to my father.”
“I looked at you and saw something different,” Arrow murmured, his fingers still tracing patterns on my skin. “A queen without a crown. Someone who belonged on a throne of her own, not standing in her father’s shadow.”
His words resonated in places I’d kept locked away, dark corners where I hid the parts of myself too dangerous to acknowledge. I’d spent years building walls, protecting myself from a world that had never shown me anything but cruelty. And somehow, this man, my enemy, had found the cracks.
“I almost killed you that night.”
“I know. My dick was so hard.”
I laughed against his lips. “Men like you always get hard for violence.”
His hand slid to my throat, not squeezing, just resting there. “Only when it comes from you.” His thumb traced my pulse point, feeling it jump beneath his touch. “No one’s ever challenged me the way you do.”
I was falling into his eyes, drowning willingly in whatever this was between us. And to me, it felt dangerously close to belonging.
The sound of knocking startled me. Arrow’s reaction was identical, his muscles coiling, ready to spring into action.
“Who the fuck is knocking on the door at this hour?” I whispered, reaching for a sheet to cover myself.
Arrow slid from the bed in one fluid motion, pulling on his pants without bothering with underwear.
“Stay here,” he commanded, his voice returning to that controlled tone I recognized—the crime lord replacing the lover in an instant.
I ignored him, of course, wrapping a sheet around myself and following a few steps behind. Through the bedroom door, I heard laughter. Arrow’s shoulders relaxed, and Atlas, Orion, and Luna pushed their way inside.
“What are you guys doing here?” Arrow asked as our unexpected guests piled into the penthouse.
I clutched the sheet tighter around me. Luna’s eyes met mine with an apologetic smile, while Atlas and Orion looked thoroughly amused by the situation.
“Bad timing?” Atlas asked, though he didn’t look remotely sorry.
“Ten minutes ago, it would have been,” I laughed, adjusting the sheet around my body.
“But lucky for you, you missed the grand finale,” Arrow joked.
Luna stepped forward, her pregnant belly leading the way. “I tried to talk them out of it,” she said, rolling her eyes at her husband and Orion. “But they insisted this was tradition.”
“What tradition?” I asked, glancing at Arrow, who looked equally confused.
Atlas grinned, producing a bottle of what looked like extremely expensive vodka from behind his back. “The night before a Romanov wedding, the groom isn’t supposed to be alone with his bride. Bad luck.”
“That’s not a tradition,” Arrow said flatly. “You just made that up.”
Orion laughed, already making himself comfortable on one of the leather couches. “All traditions start somewhere. We’re starting this one right now.”
I sighed, glancing longingly back toward the bedroom where just moments ago Arrow and I had been wrapped in something that felt dangerously close to intimacy. “I need to get dressed.”
“Please do,” Atlas said with a smirk. “You and my wife will be spending the night in our penthouse. Oh, and no phones. Don’t want you two lovebirds breaking tradition.”
“We’re having a sleepover,” Luna said, linking her arm through mine. “A proper girls’ night before you become a Romanov.”
I looked at Arrow, who was clearly torn between amusement and irritation. “Is this really necessary?”
“Apparently,” he replied, his eyes holding a promise that made my skin tingle despite our audience. “Though the timing leaves something to be desired.”
Luna tugged gently at my arm. “Come on. Let’s get you dressed. I brought champagne for you—the good stuff, not that swill they were serving at the rehearsal dinner.”
I sighed dramatically but allowed myself to be led back toward the bedroom. Before we disappeared down the hallway, I glanced back at Arrow. His eyes met mine across the room, and he winked at me before Luna pushed me into the bedroom.
Once in the bedroom, I quickly dressed in jeans and a sweater, not bothering with anything fancy. Luna perched on the edge of the bed, one hand resting on her belly.
“I’m sorry for the interruption,” she said, watching me gather my things. “But Atlas was insistent. Said it was important for Arrow to have this night.”
I pulled my hair into a messy bun, studying Luna’s reflection in the mirror. “Important how?”
She smiled, a knowing look in her eyes. “The night before a man like Arrow marries the only woman in the world that can handle him, he needs his brothers with him. To remind him of who he was before you,” she said, shifting to find a more comfortable position for her pregnant belly.
“And who was he before me?” I scoffed.
“Dangerous. Controlled. Utterly devoted to his empire, like Atlas.” She looked up at me. “But never vulnerable. Not until you.”
I snorted, zipping up my overnight bag. “Arrow Romanov, vulnerable? That’s not the word I’d use.”
“That’s because you don’t see how he watches you when you’re not looking,” Luna said, rising from the bed with the careful movements of a woman in her third trimester.
“Like a man who’s found something he never knew he was searching for.
Plus, their bachelor rituals are older than the city itself.
Arrow might not admit it, but he needs this—one last night with his brothers before everything changes. ”
I considered her words. “We’ve been living together for weeks. It’s not like tomorrow is some grand transformation.”
Luna’s laugh was gentle. “It is, though. You’ll see.” She stood, smoothing her dress over her belly. “Marriage changes things, even arranged ones. Especially in our world.”
I followed Luna out of the bedroom, my overnight bag slung over my shoulder. The men had already opened the vodka, three glasses lined up on the coffee table. Arrow looked up as we entered, his eyes finding mine immediately.
“Don’t let them get you too drunk,” I warned, crossing to where he stood. “I expect you to be functional tomorrow.”
His mouth quirked into that half-smile that made my stomach flip. “Worried I won’t be able to perform my husbandly duties?”
“Worried you’ll pass out at the altar, and I’ll be left explaining to two crime families why the groom couldn’t stand upright,” I retorted, though my tone lacked any real bite.
Arrow reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek. “I’ll be there,” he promised, his voice dropping to that intimate register that made my skin prickle. “Nothing could keep me away.”
I leaned into his touch despite our audience, something shifting inside me at the certainty in his voice. This man—this dangerous, complicated man—would be my husband tomorrow, and I felt a strange calm settle over me.
“Ready to go?” Luna asked.
I nodded, though my eyes remained locked with Arrow’s. “Try not to die of alcohol poisoning before the ceremony,” I said, including Atlas and Orion in my warning glance.
“No promises,” Orion replied with a grin, already pouring another round of vodka.
Arrow walked us to the door, his hand at the small of my back. At the threshold, he pulled me close, his lips brushing against my ear. “Tomorrow,” he murmured, the word both promise and claim.
“Tomorrow,” I echoed, allowing myself one last moment in his arms before following Luna to the elevator.
As the doors slid closed, I caught a final glimpse of him—tall and imposing in the doorway, watching me leave with an intensity that made my heart stutter in my chest. The last thing I saw before the doors shut completely was his smile—not his usual predatory grin, but something softer and more vulnerable.
And in that moment, I knew with absolute certainty that I was walking toward my future. Not running away, not being dragged, but walking with purpose toward something I’d chosen for myself.