Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Riley
The night before the wedding, Evelyn called me.
"Babe, this is your last night as a single woman." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper on the other end. "Let me take you out. We haven't had a girls' night in forever."
We ended up at a cozy bar downtown.
Dim amber lighting, smooth jazz drifting through the air.
Who would've thought? Here I was, the night before my wedding, tucked into a booth with Evelyn, swapping secrets like we used to years ago.
Honestly, I'd barely lifted a finger for this wedding—the one that was about to dominate every media headline.
The venue, the guest list, security protocol, even that fancy gold script on the invitations—Matvey had handled every last detail. I'd figured I'd at least get to pick out my own wedding dress, but he'd taken care of that too.
Dozens of custom-fitted gowns from top designers now hung in my walk-in closet at the manor, just waiting for me to try them on at my leisure.
"You just need to look beautiful and walk toward me. I'll take care of the rest," he'd said.
Now my biggest problem was deciding which dress to wear tomorrow. The kind of problem I never would've dreamed of having before.
"You should see yourself right now," Evelyn said, swirling her drink. "You're practically glowing. Nothing like that little intern I used to know."
"You're exaggerating."
"Am I? Remember when you bought me those imported supplements and lived on instant noodles for a week? You nearly passed out from low blood sugar in the subway station."
I hadn't expected her to bring that up. Those days were brutal. I'd stayed up night after night staring at medical bills, convinced I'd never crawl out of that hole.
"That's all behind us now." I reached over and squeezed her hand.
Her hand was warm and strong. Not cold and frail like when she was sick.
"Yeah. We made it through." Evelyn's eyes glistened, but she blinked hard, forcing the tears back.
She raised her glass. I lifted my alcohol-free soda water and clinked it against hers.
"For those two little ones in there, I'm drinking for both of us tonight." She winked, then sighed. "My baby sister's getting married tomorrow. God, I wish Mom and Dad could see this."
My throat tightened. I took a quick sip, swallowing down the wave of emotion. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration. I wasn't about to ruin my makeup.
We were deep in conversation when some random guy wandered over with two drinks. Loud shirt, cocky smirk.
"Hey there, beautiful. Mind if I buy you a drink?" He slid right into the seat beside me.
Evelyn whistled.
Before I could say anything, a large, elegant hand appeared and pressed down on the glass he'd pushed toward me.
"She's spoken for." That deep cello voice made my spine go rigid.
How the hell did Matvey track me down so fast?
The guy looked up, met Matvey's gaze, and went pale. He clearly recognized that face—the one that lived at the top of New York's elite circles and was always tied to whispers about the underworld.
He mumbled an apology and bolted.
I turned to Matvey, torn between annoyed and amused. "How did you even find us?"
Evelyn and I had snuck out.
"In New York? You think you can leave my sight?" He raised an eyebrow, his possessiveness written all over his face.
He raised his hand and snapped his fingers toward the bar.
"I'm buying out the place tonight," he told the approaching staff member. "Clear it."
"Wait, wait." Evelyn cut off the guy about to carry out the order. "Our dear pakhan, that's really not necessary. With you standing guard over Riley like a bodyguard, nobody's gonna dare come near her anyway."
"It's mainly for Evelyn—" I jumped in, half-joking. "She's still single. If you kick everyone out, where's she supposed to meet hot guys? If there's not a single living male left in this bar, she'll kill me."
"Hey—" Evelyn pinched me, laughing.
Matvey's intense gaze lingered on my face for two seconds before he finally gave in. He tilted his chin at the staff member, signaling him to back off.
"Fine." His tone was dead serious. "But if you like places like this, I'll buy you a bar tomorrow. You pick the neighborhood."
I just stared at him.
Evelyn was doubled over laughing.
"My God, Matvey," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. "Your possessiveness is something else."
"I'm getting drinks." Matvey shot her a look but didn't argue, then headed toward the bar.
The second Matvey left, Evelyn pounced.
"Okay, spill. While the tyrant's away."
"Spill what?" I leaned back warily.
"What do you think? Behind closed doors—you and Matvey. Give me details."
I nearly choked on my soda.
"Evelyn!" I lunged to cover her mouth, glancing around frantically—damn it, the place wasn't cleared yet, and people at the next table were staring. "Keep your voice down!"
"Relax, nobody knows us here." She pried my hand away. "Just one question. Is he exhausting in bed? I'm betting he's the type with insane stamina. Does he wear you out so bad you can't even get out of bed the next day?"
I was burning from head to toe. How the hell did she figure that out? And worse—she was right about every word.
"See? I knew it." She leaned in close, voice dropping to a whisper only we could hear. "So is he the gentle, sweet-talking type, or... the kind who likes total control and pushes you till you come apart?"
Images flooded my mind—him gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him. His low, rough voice making me say filthy things until my fingers trembled...
"The latter," I admitted.
"I knew it!" Evelyn's eyes gleamed. "But seriously. You told me he got your name tattooed near his heart? That's actually romantic. He's all action, not just talk."
Her words unlocked something soft inside me.
Yeah. This man who could shake New York's underworld with a flick of his finger had been treating me like I was made of glass since learning I was pregnant.
If I craved some obscure hometown snack in the middle of the night, he'd send people across half of New York to find it. If I fell asleep drawing designs, I'd wake up wrapped in his coat, smelling of cedar.
"He's good to me," I said, unable to stop myself from smiling.
"Jesus, you two are disgustingly in love. I give up." Then she shifted gears, making an obscene gesture. "One last question—the most important one. Is he also, you know... exceptionally gifted? I mean, if he's wearing you out that bad, I'm curious about the size—"
"Evelyn Quinn!" I wanted to crawl into a hole. "One more word and I'm leaving!"
At the bar, Matvey glanced back, smirking. That one look made my hand freeze around my glass, heat crawling up my neck.
He definitely heard. And he was staying put, giving us space to finish.
Soon enough, Matvey returned with drinks. He settled beside me, all lazy confidence.
"A bachelorette party where the groom tags along the whole time," Evelyn muttered.
"Tomorrow she's my wife," Matvey replied, then looked at me. "If I had my way, I wouldn't leave your side for a second."
He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
I glared at him. He just smiled, indulgent and maddeningly calm.
The moment I turned to grab my water, his hand slipped under my shirt from behind, warm palm settling on my waist. He squeezed lightly.
I shivered, nearly dropping my glass. That bastard.
Evelyn's eyes flicked between us. Her expression shifted from amused gossip to knowing understanding.
"Ahem—" She dragged the sound out, grabbed her purse, and stood. "I just remembered I need to touch up my makeup."
"You two... take your time." She winked at me and made a beeline for the restroom, leaving us alone in the booth.
"Evelyn!" I tried to call her back, but the hand on my waist tightened, pulling me into his arms.
"Don't bother." Matvey laughed softly, resting his chin on top of my head. "She's not coming back anytime soon."
"This is your fault," I grumbled, making a halfhearted attempt to push away. But I didn't really want to leave his embrace.
He was too warm, his crisp cedar scent wrapping around me, making me melt.
"My fault for what?" His other hand covered my barely-there bump, gentle. "For wanting the whole world to know you're mine?"
"Your possessiveness is already legendary across New York." I poked his chest—right where my name was tattooed.
"That's nowhere near enough." He caught my hand, pressing it firmly over his heart so I could feel the steady, powerful beat. "I want you to marry me. Take my name. Become Mrs. Bykov."
Possessive. Commanding. And somehow, it filled every empty space in my heart.
"Nervous?" he asked suddenly.
"About what?"
"Tomorrow. The wedding."
I looked up into those deep gray-green eyes.
Tomorrow I'd walk toward him in a wedding dress and place the rest of my life in the hands of this man who'd laid his whole heart bare for me.
"No," I said honestly. "I've waited too long for this."
His breathing deepened. He cupped the back of my head and kissed me.
"Riley Bykov," he murmured against my lips. "Sounds perfect."
I smiled. It really did.
After a while, my phone buzzed. A text from Evelyn.
"Riley, I'm bailing. Refuse to be the third wheel killing your vibe. Just ran into this absolutely gorgeous guy outside who's exactly my type, and he's insisting on buying me a drink—my luck is through the roof!"
I typed back quickly. "Control yourself. Don't forget tomorrow's my wedding. If my maid of honor shows up hungover with dark circles, I'm never forgiving you."
She replied instantly. "Relax. Even if I can't get out of bed, I'll be there on time."
Damn it. Why did she always go there?
"Have fun tonight. Use protection."
I put my phone away, laughing.