Chapter 7 Lily
Lily
The dress is white silk.
I stare at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman looking back. Four months ago, I was standing on an auction block in a slip dress, waiting to be sold. Now I'm standing in a penthouse bedroom in a wedding gown, waiting to marry the man who saved me.
The dress is simple—Leonid offered to buy me anything I wanted, flew in designers from New York and Paris, but I chose this. A soft A-line that skims my body, delicate lace at the neckline, a subtle empire waist that accommodates the small swell of my stomach.
I'm twelve weeks pregnant. Just starting to show.
My hand drifts to the bump, the way it does a hundred times a day now. There's a baby in there. Our baby. A tiny heartbeat we heard for the first time last week, fast and strong, filling the ultrasound room with the sound of our future.
Leonid cried. Tried to hide it, failed completely. I have the ultrasound photo tucked into my bouquet.
"You ready?"
I turn. Dimitri Volkov stands in the doorway—the Pakhan himself, here to walk me down the aisle because I have no one else. When Leonid asked him, I'd expected him to refuse. Instead, he'd looked at me for a long moment, then nodded.
"She makes you soft," he'd told Leonid. "But soft isn't always weak. Sometimes it's what keeps us human."
Now he offers me his arm, and I take it.
"Thank you," I say quietly. "For doing this."
"Leonid is my brother in all the ways that matter." His voice is formal, but not unkind. "His happiness is important to me. And you—" He pauses. "You've given him something I never thought he'd have."
"What's that?"
"Hope."
***
The ceremony is on the rooftop terrace.
Leonid wanted something private. No grand cathedral, no hundreds of guests. Just us, a handful of Bratva witnesses, and the Severny Harbor skyline spread out behind us like a promise.
The sun is setting as Dimitri leads me through the glass doors. The sky is painted in shades of gold and pink, and for a moment I can't breathe—not because of the view, but because of the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle.
Leonid.
He's wearing a dark suit, perfectly tailored, his silver hair swept back from his face. His ice-blue eyes find mine the moment I step outside, and something in his expression cracks open. Raw. Vulnerable. Wrecked.
He looks at me like he's been waiting his whole life for this moment and didn't know it until now.
I walk toward him on Dimitri's arm, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. The small crowd is a blur. Viktor and his wife Isabella, a few others I've met over the past weeks are here, but I only see him. Only ever see him.
When I reach the altar, Dimitri places my hand in Leonid's. His fingers close around mine, warm and steady, and I feel myself relax.
"Hi," I whisper.
"Hi." His voice is rough. "You look..."
"What?"
"Like mine." His voice cracks on the word. "Finally mine."
The officiant speaks, but I barely hear the words.
I'm too focused on Leonid. On the way his thumb traces circles on my palm. On the slight tremble in his hands when he takes the ring—a simple platinum band that matches the engagement ring he gave me the night he proposed.
"Leonid," the officiant says, "do you take Lily to be your wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward?"
"I do." No hesitation. No doubt. Just absolute certainty.
"And do you, Lily, take Leonid to be your husband? To have and to hold, from this day forward?"
I look up at him: this man who killed for me, who held me through my nightmares, who told me his darkest secrets and asked for nothing in return.
"I do."
He slides the ring onto my finger. I do the same for him, my hands shaking slightly.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife." The officiant smiles. "You may kiss the bride."
Leonid cups my face in his hands. His eyes are wet, and he doesn't try to hide it.
"I love you, Mrs. Morozov," he murmurs.
"I love you too."
He kisses me.
The small crowd cheers, but I barely hear them. There's only this—his mouth on mine, his hands on my face, his heart beating against my chest. There's only us, married, together, with our baby growing between us.
When we finally break apart, I'm crying. So is he.
"No more tears," he says, wiping my cheeks with his thumbs. "Only happiness from now on."
"These are happy tears."
"I know." He kisses my forehead. "Mine too."
***
The reception is small and warm.
Dinner on the terrace, fairy lights strung overhead, good food and better wine—sparkling cider for me. Toasts from Dimitri and Viktor. Isabella pulls me aside to tell me that pregnancy only gets better from here, that the second trimester is magic, that I'm going to be an incredible mother.
I believe her. For the first time in my life, I believe good things can happen to me.
Leonid doesn't let go of my hand all night. Keeps me tucked against his side, his arm around my waist, his palm drifting to my stomach like he can't help himself.
"You keep touching my belly," I murmur during a quiet moment.
"Our baby is in there."
"I know."
"I still can't believe it." He presses his hand flat against the small swell. "I spent fifty years alone. Told myself I didn't need anyone. And now I have you, and I have this—" His voice catches. "I don't deserve it."
"Stop saying that."
"It's true."
"It's not." I turn in his arms, face him. "You saved me. You chose me. You gave me everything I ever wanted." I take his face in my hands. "You deserve every bit of happiness we have. You deserve this."
He closes his eyes. Presses his forehead to mine.
"I love you," he says.
"I love you too. Now stop being sad at our wedding and dance with me."
He laughs—that surprised, genuine laugh I love so much—and pulls me onto the small dance floor.
***
We dance until my feet hurt, then dance some more.
By the time the last guest leaves, I'm exhausted in the best possible way. My feet ache from dancing, my cheeks hurt from smiling, and I can't stop touching him—his arm, his hand, the ring on his finger that matches mine.
Leonid scoops me up before I can protest—"I can walk, you know"—and carries me to our bedroom. Lays me down on the bed like I'm something he still can't believe he gets to keep.
"I have a wedding present for you," he says.
"You've given me enough."
"Never." He pulls a small velvet box from his jacket pocket. "Open it."
I sit up, take the box, flip it open. Inside is a delicate gold necklace with a small pendant—a wolf, studded with tiny diamonds.
"It's the Volkov symbol," he explains. "It means you're family now. Not just mine—theirs. Protected by the Bratva. Claimed."
My throat tightens. "Leonid..."
"You wanted to belong somewhere." He takes the necklace, clasps it around my neck. The pendant rests just above my collarbone, warm against my skin. "Now you do. Forever."
I pull him down and kiss him until neither of us can breathe.
He undresses me slowly.
Peels the wedding dress off my shoulders, lets it pool at my feet. His eyes rake over me—the white lace bra, the matching underwear, the small swell of my stomach where our baby grows.
"Fuck." The word comes out reverent. Wrecked. "Look at you."
He drops to his knees.
Right there, still in his wedding suit, he kneels before me and presses his mouth to my stomach. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady while he kisses every inch of the bump.
"My wife," he murmurs against my skin. "Carrying my baby."
"Leonid."
"I'm going to worship you tonight." He looks up at me, ice-blue eyes blazing. "I'm going to make you come so many times you forget your own name. And then I'm going to fill you up again, because I can't stop. Can't ever stop wanting to be inside you."
Heat floods through me. My nipples tighten against the lace, and I feel myself getting wet—soaking through my underwear already.
He notices. Of course he notices.
"Already?" His hand slides between my thighs, cupping me through the lace. "We just got started, solnyshko."
"You're on your knees in a suit talking about filling me up." My voice comes out breathless. "What did you expect?"
He laughs—low, dark, dangerous—and pulls my underwear down my legs. I step out of them, trembling, and then his mouth is on me.
No teasing. No buildup. He buries his face between my thighs and devours me.
I cry out, hands flying to his hair, knees buckling. He catches me, holds me up, one arm banded around my thighs while his tongue works my clit. Licking. Sucking. Circling that sensitive bundle of nerves until I'm shaking, gasping, babbling nonsense.
"Leonid—please! I can't stand—"
He pulls back just long enough to say, "Then fall. I'll catch you."
And then his tongue pushes inside me.
I moan, loud and shameless, grinding against his face. He fucks me with his tongue, slow and deep, while his nose bumps my clit with every stroke. The pleasure builds fast—too fast—and I try to hold it back, try to make it last.
"Don't fight it." He slides two fingers inside me, replacing his tongue, and curls them against that spot deep inside. "Come on my face, wife. Give it to me."
I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me, my whole body clenching around his fingers, his name torn from my throat. He doesn't stop. He keeps licking, keeps fucking me with his hand, works me through it until the aftershocks fade.
Then he keeps going.
"Leonid—" I gasp. "Too much!"
"Not enough." He seals his mouth over my clit and sucks, hard, while his fingers pump in and out. "I said I was going to make you forget your name. We're not done yet."
The second orgasm hits before I'm ready for it. I scream—actually scream—and my knees give out completely. He catches me, lowers me to the floor, and spreads my thighs wider.
"One more." His chin is wet, his eyes wild. "One more like this, and then I'll fuck you."
"I can't!"
"You can." He adds a third finger, stretching me open, and I feel so full I can barely breathe. "You can take everything I give you. You always do."
His mouth finds my clit again. His fingers fuck me relentlessly, with three of them now, hitting that spot over and over. Wet sounds fill the room. I'm writhing on the floor, still in my wedding bra, the wolf pendant warm between my breasts, completely lost to the pleasure.
"Please," I sob. "Please, please, please—"
"Please what?"
"Please let me come—please—I need—"
"Then come." He curls his fingers hard, presses his tongue flat against my clit. "Come for your husband."
I break.
This orgasm is different—deeper, longer, rolling through me in waves that don't seem to end. I clench around his fingers so hard it almost hurts, and when I finally come down, I'm crying. Tears streaming down my face, body shaking, completely overwhelmed.
Leonid crawls up my body, kisses the tears from my cheeks.
"Too much?" he asks softly.
"No." I wrap my arms around his neck. "Not enough. I need you inside me. Please."
He groans, presses his forehead to mine. "Hold on."
He stands, strips off his jacket, his tie, his shirt. I watch from the floor, still trembling, as he unbuckles his belt and shoves his pants down. His cock springs free. He’s hard and thick and leaking at the tip, and my pussy clenches at the sight.
"Bed," he says, reaching down to lift me. "I want you in our bed."
He lays me on the mattress, crawls over me, settles between my thighs. The head of his cock nudges my entrance, and I whimper.
"Look at me." He waits until my eyes meet his. "I love you, Lily Morozov."
"I love you too."
He pushes in.
One long, slow stroke that fills me completely. I arch off the bed, gasping, fingers digging into his shoulders. He's so deep, impossibly deep, and I can feel every inch of him stretching me open.
"Fuck." His jaw is clenched, veins standing out in his neck. "You feel incredible. So tight. So wet. So fucking mine."
"Yours." I wrap my legs around his waist. "Move. Please move."
He moves.
Long, deep strokes that drag against every sensitive spot inside me. He braces himself on one arm, uses the other hand to unhook my bra, toss it aside. His mouth finds my nipple, sucks it hard, and I cry out.
"These are going to get bigger." He switches to the other breast, laves his tongue over the peak. "When the baby comes. When you're full of milk." He groans against my skin. "Can't wait to see it. Can't wait to watch your body change."
"Leonid!"
"You're going to be so beautiful." He thrusts harder, deeper. "Round and full and glowing. All because I put my baby in you."
The possessiveness in his voice makes me clench around him. He feels it, laughs darkly.
"You like that? Like hearing about how I bred you?"
"Yes—" I'm past shame, past embarrassment. "Yes, I like it!"
"Good." He pulls almost all the way out, slams back in. "Because I'm obsessed with it. Obsessed with you. With this." His hand finds my bump, presses flat against it. "My wife. My baby. My fucking everything."
He shifts, hooks my knees over his shoulders, folds me in half. The new angle makes me scream. He's hitting spots I didn't know existed, so deep it almost hurts, and the pleasure builds fast—unbearably fast.
"I can feel you getting close." His rhythm turns brutal, relentless. "Going to come on your husband's cock?"
"Yes! Yes!"
"Say my name."
"Leonid!"
"Again."
"Leonid, please, I'm going to—"
"Come." He reaches between us, presses his thumb to my clit. "Come for me, wife."
I fall apart.
The orgasm tears through me, whiting out everything except him—his body against mine, his cock pulsing inside me, his groan muffled against my throat as he follows me over. I feel him flood me with warmth, and I hold him tighter, wanting all of it.
We stay like that for a long moment, tangled together, both of us shaking.
"Best wedding night ever," I manage.
He laughs weakly against my neck. "We're just getting started."
***
The sun is rising when we finally stop. We lie tangled in the sheets, sweaty and satisfied.
Leonid shifts down, presses his lips to my bump, and murmurs something in Russian.
"What are you saying?" I ask softly.
"Telling her about her mother." He kisses the small swell again. "How brave she is. How beautiful. How much I love her."
"Her?"
"I told you. It's a girl." He grins up at me. "I'm always right."
"Arrogant."
"Confident." He moves back up, pulls me against his chest. His hand finds my stomach again, splaying across the bump. "I'm going to spoil you both. You know that, right? I'm going to give you everything you've ever wanted."
"You already have." I snuggle into him, our baby safe between us. "You gave me a family. That's all I ever wanted."
"You have one now." He kisses the top of my head. "Forever."
I fall asleep in my husband's arms, wearing his ring and his pendant, carrying his child.
Forever sounds perfect.