81. -Epilogue-
-Epilogue-
Nina
The shrill ring of the doorbell made me flinch, and I raised my head from the papers. During the weekends, I refused to work, but some things couldn’t wait. So while Aryna and Zara played in the living room, I sat in my new office and studied a deal that could ensure a steady flow of money.
“Uncle Malin!” I heard Zara scream. Aryna squealed excitedly, and I scoffed. Dorian was at work, and Zyon and Valeria had a romantic spa day. It hadn’t occurred to me that he would show up at my doorstep.
Since I’d helped him with the kidnapped boy a few months ago, Malin had warmed up to me.
I wouldn’t say he liked me. He didn’t like anyone but his gun, motorcycle, and oatmeal.
Still, he didn’t glare at me like he used to, and every time I called him and said I needed someone to keep an eye on Aryna, he came.
I locked my office door because Zara and Aryna had already snooped through my stuff the other day, then walked into the spacious living room. Malin had just removed his motorcycle helmet and was leaning an elegant black walking stick against the sofa.
“Hey,” I greeted him with a smile. “I didn’t expect you here.”
More like, I didn’t realize he was bored like fuck because Zyon forbade him from working until he completely recovered. Considering three surgeries and the knee replacement, it’d take at least another six months for him to heal fully.
“I came to pick up the girls,” he said, winking at Aryna, who scrutinized the skull-shaped handle on his walking stick. She flashed him a million-dollar smile and continued the examination.
“Where are you taking them?” I frowned, trying to remember whether Dorian had mentioned a trip or something else that had slipped my mind.
“Away,” he replied curtly as he opened his motorcycle suit and sat on the couch. Before I realized what he was doing, he took it off and checked his messy hair in the visor of his helmet.
“You wear jeans under all that leather?” I stared at him, involuntarily shuddering at the thought.
“Only when necessary.” He stood up, pulling a knife holster and a gun from the suit. My eyes widened, but he hid them before the girls could notice. “This is for you.” He handed me a black envelope.
“What is it?” I turned it over, frowning at the golden, engraved DZ on the back.
“Follow the instructions,” were Malin’s last words. A couple of minutes later, the door behind him and the girls closed, and I was left alone in the living room with a note from my husband.
It’s not a traditional kidnapping, but I’ll do it if you don’t come to me willingly, ma vilaine. The plane is ready. Pack that sexy red bikini.
“Seriously?” I stared at it in disbelief. “Now?”
My phone beeped in the back pocket of my jeans.
Infuriating husband: Yes, Nina. Now.
My mouth formed an O as I read the message again.
Did he…
Infuriating husband: Yes, I’m stalking you. Now, move your sexy ass. I’m paying the pilot an ungodly amount of money.
Nina: What’s the magic word?
Infuriating husband: Abracadabra… Are you there? NO! You’re still in our living room.
Nina: Try again.
I smiled at the phone, refusing to move until he asked properly. Nina Valentino, pardon me, Zhumagulov, didn’t take orders from anyone. Her husband included.
Infuriating husband: Dear Mrs. Zhumagulov, be so kind and sacrifice two days of your precious time to spend a lovely weekend with your husband at a sunny Bahamian beach. Pretty please.
A laugh spilled out of me, and I quickly typed.
Nina: Very well then. But only because you asked nicely.
Four hours later, I entered a spacious three-story house in the Bahamas, gaping at Valeria.
“No spa?” I asked, sensing something shady in the air.
“Bahamas are better than a spa.” She grinned, leading me further inside.
The view stole my breath away. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, turquoise water shimmered beneath the afternoon sun, stretching toward the horizon without a single building in sight.
A wide terrace opened behind the house, leading past an infinity pool to a narrow stone path winding between palm trees and lush tropical greenery.
At the end, the path opened onto a secluded strip of white sand transformed into a wedding scene.
Wait a second. A fucking wedding scene!
My heart stumbled as I took in the scenery.
Rows of elegant white chairs faced the ocean, separated by an aisle scattered with pale rose petals.
A simple wooden arch stood close to the water, wrapped in flowing ivory fabric and tropical flowers that moved gently in the sea breeze.
Small lanterns and candles lined the sand, waiting for sunset.
What in the world was that?
“Valeria?” I turned to her, ignoring her dreamy expression. She stared at the horizon, lost in some fantasy, her hand gently caressing her slightly visible pregnant belly.
“Valeria,” I repeated, louder this time, and she snapped out of her daze. “What is happening?” I pointed at the scene, and her smile widened.
“You’re getting married, Nina.”
I blinked in confusion, unable to react when the entire promenade of dresses was presented to me.
“Champagne?” someone asked, and I happily took two glasses.
Was this for real?
“Come, Nina.” Valeria gently took my hand. “We’ve prepared a room for you.”
I followed her into a spacious bedroom with cute, flowery bedsheets, more wedding gowns on the hangers, and a wide cosmetic table with a big oval mirror. Valeria left to arrange something while I glanced at my shocked expression. I had to pinch myself as a reality check.
It hurt. It wasn’t a dream, so I fished the phone from my bag and typed.
Nina: A wedding? Are you for real? We already had one!
Dorian replied instantly.
Infuriating husband: You drugged me. It doesn’t count.
Nina: You should’ve told me.
I pressed send, then realized something else.
Nina: You should’ve proposed first!
Infuriating husband: Would you answer differently?
I glared at the text. No, of course I wouldn’t answer differently, but still.
“Is everything okay?” Valeria asked, interrupting my staring contest with my phone.
“Yes. No.” I threw the phone on the bed. “I don’t know.” I looked around me at all the beautiful dresses. “It’s just… I’m stunned.”
“I told him you’re not the type for this kind of surprise.” She sat on the bed, touching an impeccable white lacy dress with embroidered diamonds. “He said he’s going to risk it anyway.”
A tiny laugh escaped me.
“Of course he is,” I sighed, admiring the high slit on the pale pink gown.
“You don’t like it here?” Valeria asked, standing up. “Did you imagine a different setting for your wedding?”
“I didn’t imagine anything,” I admitted quietly, letting go of the expensive fabric. “Actually.” I turned to her. “I didn’t know he was thinking about a wedding at all.”
“I see.” She smiled as if she knew something I didn’t. “We can still cancel the whole thing and have a small family gathering instead. I don’t think guests would mind it. Party is a party, right?”
“Guests?” I lifted a brow and glanced out the window. Palm trees and exotic bushes surrounded the house. Servants, people from the catering company, and security guards mixed, bringing boxes, adjusting the decorations, or just having a smoke break.
“Zyon wants to use the opportunity and officially,” she made quotation marks in the air, “announce the Valentino-Zhumagulov cooperation, or whatever he calls it.” She shrugged, standing beside me. “I heard you’ve been having a difficult time with some Italian families.”
Shit show would be a better term. Mostly because Granny Santangelo claimed her granddaughter was robbed of a marriage. Diana stormed our house, and Dorian had Sasha escort her off the property with a promise of consequences if she did it again. She was pissed like hell.
“People are scared,” I said, folding my arms over my chest. “Zyon destroyed the last leadership in two weeks, and no one knows what he plans next. And then,” I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, “it’s the Ramzan mystery. We haven’t seen the guy for ten years.”
“You at least saw him.” Valeria cast me a pointed look, and I grimaced.
“Yeah, once, when I was fourteen and sneaked out to the meeting I had no business attending.” I shuddered at the memory, but whatever I wished to add died on my tongue when Lucas barged into the room.
“Finally,” he exhaled, crossing the distance between us in a few long strides. “This house is enormous.” He squeezed me tightly and kissed my cheek. “Congratulations. I could barely keep it any longer.”
“Keep what?” I pulled away when it clicked. “You knew?”
“Of course I knew.” He looked almost offended. “Who do you think ordered all those dresses for you?” He winked at me, a huge smile bringing out his adorable dimples. “Dorian’s credit card is a dream come true.”
I burst out laughing, and Valeria smiled.
“I’ll leave you two to catch up,” she said and left us alone.
“You should’ve told me.” I punched Lucas’s shoulder, feigning anger.
“No fucking way!” he yelled, grasping the first dress within reach. He pressed them against his tall body and spun around. “You would’ve argued, protested, refused. No one is in the mood for it. Dorian just wants to celebrate your love. Play along.”
“But—” I threw my arms in the air, ready to object, but he didn’t give me a chance.
“Just pick a dress and enjoy your day, Nina!”
I pursed my lips and turned toward the window. From here, I could see the entire beach. The flowers moving gently in the breeze, the white chairs, the ridiculous amount of effort Dorian put into making everything perfect. The stubborn asshole planned all of this.
My first instinct was still to find him and explain in great detail why normal people discussed weddings with their partners before organizing one. But the longer I stared at the beach, the harder it became to hold on to my irritation.
Our first wedding wasn’t his choice. He deserved to have this one on his terms.
I looked at Lucas, who danced between the dresses, admiring every single one of them.
“I’m doing it only because Dorian wants it,” I mumbled, approaching the pale pink dress that caught my attention earlier. It possessed the right amount of scandalous elegance with a high-slit, deep neckline, and a naked back.
“Don’t you dare enjoy your own wedding,” Lucas said, standing beside me, grinning. “Nice pick.”
“Hope the groom will think the same.”
Precisely at four pm, I walked down the stone path to the beach. My bare feet sank into the warm sand, the light breeze ruffled my hair, and the warm sun tingled my skin.
Happy, familiar faces turned toward me. My father stood among them, smiling proudly.
Aryna, in her beautiful lavender dress, bounced on her feet beside Malin, who sported the expression of a tortured man.
Valeria smiled warmly, standing beside Zyon, who tried to keep Zara’s excitement under control.
I exhaled a shaky breath, and Lucas appeared beside me, offering his arm as if he knew my suddenly wobbly legs needed the support. But then I saw him, Dorian, standing at the end of the aisle, and everyone disappeared.
God, help me!
The man was perfection wrapped in white.
His tailored suit hugged his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The white shirt beneath opened at the throat instead of being strangled by a tie.
The ocean breeze disturbed his dark hair, sending a few strands across his forehead, and the late-afternoon sun caught in his hazel eyes as they locked on mine.
He wasn’t smiling. He simply stared at me with an intensity that made the entire beach disappear.
For months, I chased this man. I stalked him, kidnapped him, married him, fought him, seduced him, and bulldozed my way through every wall he put between us. And now, for the first time, I didn’t have to chase him anymore. Dorian was waiting for me.
My heart made a pathetic little jump, and tears welled in my eyes as I walked down the aisle. With my every step, the man of my dreams was closer.
When I was only a few feet from him, his expression finally cracked. His lips curved into a soft smile, and his eyes glistened suspiciously in the sun. Lucas squeezed my hand one last time before letting go, and Dorian immediately reached for it.
“You came, ma vilaine,” he whispered.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I grinned. “I’m here for the food.”
“Of course.” He chuckled, and we turned toward the officiant.
Most of the ceremony passed in a blur. I was lost in Dorian’s eyes, reminding myself over and over that he was mine. I was never a sensitive, sentimental type, but sometimes it felt surreal to be his wife. And he stared at me with love and devotion that almost matched mine. Almost.
“Nina.” I flinched slightly when the officiant addressed me. “Do you choose Dorian, freely and willingly, to remain your husband, your partner, and your family for all the years to come?”
I blinked, the words ringing in my ears.
“Freely and willingly?” I repeated, glancing at my grinning husband, who wiggled his eyebrows mischievously.
Of course, the asshole had a hand in that!
“Do you?” the lady asked, looking at me expectantly, as I smiled knowingly at Dorian. My eyes literally screamed, “I’ll remind you freely and willingly later, hubby.”
“Yes, I do,” I said, and someone among the guests let out an audible, relieved exhale. My brows shot up, and Dorian chuckled.
“Dorian.” The officiant finally turned to him. “Do you choose Nina, freely and willingly, to remain your wife, your partner, and your family for all the years to come?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “I choose this menace willingly.”
I pressed my lips into a line to muffle a laugh, tears of happiness burning in my eyes.
“You may kiss the bride.”
The words barely left the lady’s mouth before Dorian wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me flush against him.
A startled squeak flew from me as he swept me backward into a deep dip, his arm securely supporting my back.
My hair spilled toward the sand, and before I could complain about his theatrics, his mouth crashed against mine.
The cheers erupted around us. I grabbed the lapels of Dorian’s jacket, enjoying the moment of absolute bliss.
And that’s the moment that marked the official beginning of our journey, even though it started long before all of this. Surrounded by our family, friends, and whoever Zyon deemed worthy of invading his extravagant mansion, I married my husband for the second time.
Freely and willingly, apparently.
I smiled against Dorian’s lips. What started as a crime turned into a love story. And I’d be damned if I ever let anyone destroy our happiness.
We deserved our happily ever after.
The END