Epilogue
One year later
Vadim
The house is too loud.
It’s not the staff. Ivan still runs the place with a level of control that makes generals look sloppy.
Nor is it the guards. Bogdan is no longer my head of security because Baron decided a secret Voronov son deserved better than standing at my back with a gun.
I agreed. Bogdan told him to fuck off. Baron promoted him anyway.
No, the noise comes from the woman in my kitchen.
My wife is arguing with Ivan over garlic.
“I said three cloves,” Tai says, standing at the island with her hair pinned up badly and flour on her cheek, her pregnant belly bulging under the maternity dress.
“You said three. You meant five,” Ivan replies.
“I meant three because I know how to count. In English and in Russian.”
“You also once tried to make carbonara with cream.”
She gasps as he throws that back in her face. “That was one time, and it was hormones and cravings. You said you wouldn’t mention it again!”
I stand in the doorway and watch them fight over dinner. My dinner. Supposedly. It has taken Tai one year to move from hiding in my bedroom to acting like she owns every room in the house.
“Zhena moya,” I say. “Your presence is required.”
“Now?” she asks, frowning at me.
I point to my watch.
She glares at Ivan. “If I leave you unsupervised, will I regret it?”
“Never,” Ivan states loftily.
She growls and turns her back to him as he throws in two more cloves of garlic. “I saw that,” she grits out.
“Saw what?”
She glares at me. “Can’t this wait?”
“No, everyone is here now.”
She sighs and waddles beautifully into the drawing room.
“Hello, all. Glad you could be here to witness the signing of this paper. I hope you’re not too disappointed that this is not a big, fat Russian wedding, but I’m enormous, about to burst out a Bratva heir, and I really just cannot be bothered with the fuss. ”
“Hear, hear,” Irina says with a warm smile. “My wedding to Baron was a ridiculous affair.”
“Says the woman who may or may not be related to the Romanoffs,” I say with a chuckle, enjoying this immensely.
“A Civil Partnership is fully legally binding,” Roman adds. “You don’t need a church wedding.”
“Thank you for the validation,” I state and move in next to Tai. “Ready?”
She grimaces, and I frown. She grunts and then explodes water all over the marble floor. “Hurry,” she grits out. “This baby is not coming out a bastard.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Irina says, standing up, pen ready. “Where do we sign?”
Roman places the document on the polished table, uncaps his pen, and points to the lines.
“Vadim. Taisiya. Sign there.”
She snatches the pen from him and bends over the document, one hand braced on the table, the other moving fast across the page. Her signature is messy. It’s perfect.
I take the pen from her and sign beneath it.
Roman rotates the document toward Baron and Irina. “Witnesses.”
Baron looks far too amused for a man about to become legally tied to my wife in every possible family capacity. “You timed this well.”
“I didn’t time anything,” Tai snaps. “Your grandson has no manners.”
“My grandson?” Baron asks.
“We were supposed to be waiting,” I chide my wife.
“Too fucking bad, Voronov,” she grits out, nearly doubling over as a contraction rips through her. “Sign the damn paper.”
Irina signs with calm elegance, because the woman could probably sign a death warrant during a fire and still make it look refined.
Baron takes the pen next. He signs slower than necessary.
“Baron,” Tai warns.
“I am preserving the dignity of the moment.”
“I will preserve your dignity by not giving birth on your shoes if you hurry the fuck up.”
He signs.
Roman lifts the document, checks it, then nods. “Done. Legally recognised. Congratulations.”
Tai exhales hard. “Great. I’m officially not living in sin. Now someone call the hospital.”
“I already did,” Ivan says from the doorway with Tai’s hospital bag and coat over his arm.
“Go, my lovelies,” Irina says. “We will see you on the other side.”
I give her a grin that is slightly wild, a little bit panicked and full of happiness I didn’t know existed and know I don’t deserve.
But there’s time for all that self-recrimination later. Right now, my official wife needs me, and I won’t let her down. Not fucking ever.