Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Leah
Two months later.
The floor-to-ceiling windows in the dressing room looked out over the Long Island estate's back garden. September sunlight streamed through half-drawn white sheers, bathing the whole room in warm gold.
The air smelled sickeningly sweet—fresh lilies and roses mixed with the faint alcohol tang of setting spray.
I sat at the vanity, staring at the woman in white in the mirror, feeling unreal.
I was getting married.
Technically, I was already Roman's wife. But Roman wanted to give me a real wedding.
The timeline was tight—we needed to order a maternity-friendly gown in advance, and Roman's body needed time to heal. But considering all that, the speed was insane.
Honestly, this rush-job wedding turned out way better than I expected.
"Would you fucking stop moving?"
Harper smacked the back of my head. She stood behind me, nose red, dabbing at tears while adjusting my veil. She wore the bridesmaid dress I'd picked out, makeup flawless, but she'd been crying for an hour. Her mascara had already smudged twice.
Looked like she'd need another touch-up.
Harper sniffed and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, then went back to fixing the crooked handmade flower on my veil.
"I swear I didn't think I'd cry this much. I promised myself I wouldn't cry."
"You've been crying since the day I told you. Two months now. Not done yet?"
"Shut up. It's my right as maid of honor."
I watched her red-rimmed face in the mirror and couldn't help laughing.
That was Harper. Even with snot running down her face, she never backed down.
"The ribbon color on the flower arch is wrong—change it! Cream, not ivory! And that ice sculpture's crooked. Move it left three inches! Three inches!"
I could hear Maria going full drill sergeant outside, directing the ceremony setup. She was the second most excited person about this wedding after Harper.
Thanks to the two of them, I barely had to lift a finger.
I just ate, drank, and occasionally picked between options. Pretty much the most stress-free bride in history.
"Where's Mira? Find Mira! What are you waiting for—go!" Maria's voice rang out again.
Mira's disappearance made both Harper and me freeze.
"Mira's missing? Oh God, I need to find her." I shot up, but Harper shoved me back down.
"Listen, you stay here. I'll find her."
Harper smoothed her skirt and turned for the door. I still wasn't convinced and followed her. But before we made it out, a tiny figure appeared in the doorway.
Mira wore a pink tulle dress with a rhinestone butterfly clip in her hair and sparkly little shoes. Her hair was done in two French braids tied with pink ribbons. She looked absolutely precious.
When she ran in, the tulle floated around her.
"Leah!"
Mira threw herself into my arms, wrapping her small hands around my neck. She hung off me, tilting her face up with a grin that showed off her two new front teeth.
"Mira, what are you doing here? Maria's worried sick." Seeing Mira, I finally relaxed, brushing the hair off her forehead.
"I just wanted to see you. Don't you want me here?" She was already working up a pout.
It was her latest trick. She knew once she pulled that face, I'd give her anything.
Either way, it was a welcome change.
Two months ago, that almost-silent little girl had turned into a total chatterbox. Ever since I came back to the estate, ever since Roman started having dinner with her every night and reading bedtime stories, Mira's transformation shocked everyone.
Now she didn't just talk—she loved to talk. She was basically a mini Harper.
"You're getting more and more like Aunt Harper." I smacked Harper's ass.
"Hey! Excuse me!"
Harper stomped over, and I ducked behind Mira.
"What's wrong with being like Aunt Harper? I'll be a knockout when I grow up."
Mira put on an innocent face and smiled sweetly at Harper. Harper melted instantly.
"Oh! God, Mira, my little angel." Harper scooped Mira up and spun her around three times.
After Mira came out of her shell, I realized she was really good at charming people. In no time, she'd won over everyone around her.
In the distant future, she'd probably be even scarier than Roman.
I sighed. Emily came in to tell us everything was ready.
"Let's go." I took a deep breath and stood.
The dress spread out, the train dragging three meters behind me. Harper knelt to arrange it, then stood and gave me one last look.
"Ready?"
"Ready."
"Then let's go. Time to marry that bastard."
Solemn organ music drifted in from the garden. Deep chords vibrated through the air, down the hall, through the open windows, straight to my ears.
I reached the garden entrance. Sunlight flooded over me, crystals on the dress refracting tiny points of light.
The red carpet stretched from my feet all the way to the flower pavilion at the garden's heart. White chairs lined both sides.
And the people in those chairs made me stop in my tracks.
I recognized some faces.
There was the Brooklyn mob family head Roman had introduced at the last dinner. The smuggling syndicate boss who'd flown in from Boston. The underground banker who controlled the entire New Jersey casino pipeline.
And others I didn't know but could tell at a glance weren't ordinary people. Each one carried that aura you only got after years soaking in the dark world.
These people, in any setting, were the kind you steered clear of.
Being watched by this crowd made my scalp prickle.
But all the panic stopped when Mira gently took my right hand. I steadied myself and followed Mira's steps down the carpet. The train traced a long white line behind me. As I passed each row, the people on both sides leaned forward slightly.
At the end of the carpet, under the flower pavilion, Roman waited.
He wore a pure black custom suit with a white shirt and narrow black tie. A small white calla lily tucked in his breast pocket.
Roman had been groomed deliberately today—hair slicked back neatly, jaw cleanly shaved. He radiated a magnetic handsomeness from head to toe.
Roman always turned heads, but today he was devastatingly handsome. Just looking at him made my heart race.
I was really about to become this man's wife.
Roman wore a faint smile, watching me intently. When I reached him, he extended his hand to take mine.
Then Roman lowered his head and pressed his lips to the back of my hand.
Catcalls erupted around us.
The ceremony proceeded under the priest's direction.
Vows, exchanging rings, every traditional step. I followed the priest's instructions in a daze, until Roman pulled me into his arms and kissed me.
So many people around us, but I couldn't see anything.
My world was only Roman, and our wildly pounding hearts.
After the ceremony, a banquet followed in the estate's great hall. Crystal chandelier light flooded the space. Long tables were set with silver and flower arrangements.
A band played jazz in the corner. Waiters circulated with champagne.
The extravagance exceeded my imagination, but I had no mind to appreciate it. Because this dress was crushing me.
"Roman, this dress is killing me."
I turned my head and whispered my complaint.
The dress plus petticoat plus veil plus that insanely heavy diamond necklace added about fifteen pounds. My shoulders ached terribly, my back was starting to hurt, and the baby—probably squeezed uncomfortably—kept kicking me.
"And this jewelry's too heavy. My neck's about to snap."
Roman turned to look at me, glancing down at my dress as if just realizing the problem.
"You're right."
Then Roman bent down, slid one hand under my knees and the other behind my back, and scooped me smoothly out of the chair.
"What are you doing?"
I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck. The dress billowed in the air, the train sweeping across the table and knocking over a wine glass. Red wine spilled across the white tablecloth, spreading in a large stain.
The sound of clinking glass made everyone turn toward us.
Three hundred guests, plus the band, waiters, and security posted in corners—hundreds of eyes swiveled our way.
"Roman Volkov, put me down!"
My face burned hot enough to fry an egg.
But Roman completely ignored my protest.
"Everyone, my wife is tired. Carry on."
Then he carried me, in front of everyone, straight out of the hall.
Harper's whistle pierced the air behind us. Nick coughed. Then came a wave of suppressed laughter and whispers.
I buried my face in his shoulder, wanting to shrink into a ball to block all those teasing stares.
I was never complaining about being tired at any banquet ever again.
Roman carried me through the corridor into the bedroom.
The room had been decorated too. The lighting was dim—only the bedside wall sconces glowed with soft warm yellow light. Outside the windows was Long Island at night, scattered lights dotting the distant water.
He set me on the edge of the bed.
The dress spread across the bed, white lace and crystals glinting in the dim light. I sat in the pile of fluffy white fabric, looking up as Roman knelt without hesitation.
"Let's get this stuff off you first."
He moved behind me, fingers finding the necklace clasp at my nape. The necklace opened. That heavy string of diamonds slid off my neck with a soft metallic clink.
Then the earrings, the crown. Finally, his hand stopped at my back.
"Where's the zipper?"
"Left side. Under my arm."
His fingers traced up my side, finding the hidden zipper under the lace. As the zipper slid down, that hand didn't leave—instead it slipped deeper inside, brushing against my bodice.
I couldn't help suspecting he was doing it on purpose. I whipped around to glare at the troublemaker behind me and met bloodshot eyes.
"Leah, I've been holding back for two months."
Roman ripped off his tie and pressed me down on the bed without hesitation. Rose petals from the bed stuck to my back, making my skin tingle.
"You know how long I've been waiting?"
"Roman... your injuries just healed." I was already wet but still clinging to reason.