EPILOGUE
EMBER
Some might say that a year isn’t enough time to start thinking about branching out, but Roman seemed to be pretty intent on doing just that.
I’ve been running around all morning and well into the afternoon trying to make sure that everything is in place for the moment we open the doors. It hasn’t been easy since Roman has been keeping the particulars about the purchase close to his chest.
I don’t know what that’s about. Before we were married, we agreed that the only way it was going to work is if I were all in.
That is, I had to be plugged into the Bratva world just as much as he is.
That had been his idea. He once told me that the greatest way to bring a Pakhan down was to get to those closest to them and a lot of the times, Bratva wives were in the dark about their business dealings.
I think about that conversation as we sit in the back of the car on the way to the opening.
He’s been good about keeping me in the loop about things after all this time—within reason, anyway.
He never tells me things that I don’t want to know.
I mean, I’ve accepted that part of his business has to do with shady illegal moves and such, but I never want to know too much detail.
Sometimes, knowing too much is a bad thing.
But this? This is different, and honestly, I feel a little singed by it. I never wanted to be a manager my whole life. The goal had always been to own my own club one day… not to spend my life managing his clubs.
I shouldn’t think that way. I know that his intentions are good. I know that he’s building this life for us, making it so that I will never want for a thing. It’s noble. It’s the best part of who he is.
But just once, I would have liked to have my own thing.
My own club. My own company… It’s the old urges that I had ages ago.
Back before Ricky. Back when I was looking at the world like it was my oyster.
So much has changed since that time. Maybe I should just relax, enjoy being the wife of a Bratva boss instead of reaching for more. Is that ungrateful to think that way?
“Ember?”
His voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance over at him and I almost look away. He looks good today in his casual suit, the top buttons undone. His dark hair has been freshly cut. The lines are neat and tidy around his scalp. His beard is neatly trimmed and almost pristine.
I love how he looks. I love how he looks at me. Even now. Even a year later. I don’t think I’m ever going to get sick of looking at him.
“Sorry,” I say, giving him a little smile. “I was just… thinking.”
“You’ve been kind of distant for weeks now. You want to talk about it?”
I want to scoff. A little bitterness about all this tinges the edges of everything, I guess. I love how he always picks the most inappropriate times to talk about stuff. Now is not the time to talk about the dream I’ve had to defer to be his wife.
“Later, maybe?” I say, doing my best to keep my tone even. “I just want to get this opening done and over… with…”
I trail off as we round the corner. There’s a line of people standing on the street almost to the end of the block. Everybody’s dressed in club clothes, women in short, glittery dresses and men in expensive suits and gold chains…
Are all these people waiting for the grand opening of the club?
“Oh, my God,” I whisper. I hear Roman chuckle.
“Amazing, isn’t it? That advertising campaign I sprang for did the trick. It’s going to be a great opening.”
It is. I guess I should have trusted Roman’s assessment of things. We’re clearly ready for growth. I just didn’t think this many people would be this interested in a strip club.
“This is crazy,” I say as the car pulls up to the front of the club. “I… I’m shocked.”
He reaches out and squeezes my knee. “It gets better. Just wait.”
The driver opens his door first, then walks around and opens mine. Roman’s there, offering his hand to help me out.
A red carpet leads up to the door and cameras are flashing.
Opposite of the line is a collection of photographers, all yelling to get our attention like we’re celebrities.
The crowded line cheers in juxtaposition of them.
I have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing with joy. “All this for a strip club?”
“It’s not a strip club,” he says over the noise. I look up at him just as he pulls a key out of his pocket and hands it to me. “It’s your club.”
I look down at the keys in disbelief. “M–My club?”
“Happy anniversary, baby girl.” He kisses me, and I feel like I could float on air.
Of course, he didn’t overlook me. Of course, this was the plan all along. This is the reason he kept the details of the purchase a secret.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I embrace him hard. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.” He pulls away from me with a smile and says, “Now, let’s get this party started. Shall we?”
He offers me the crook of his arm and I loop mine in. Together, we walk up to the club entrance…
From nothing, to Bratva queen, to club owner. My life couldn’t get any better than this.