Chapter 15
Roman
"So, you two have any plans tonight?"
Chloe swirled her champagne glass, eyeing us eagerly. Her new husband Ben was chatting with the photographer Marco about the shots they'd just taken, while she'd dragged Nadia and me under a cabana by the bay.
"We were thinking—" Nadia started.
"We booked a yacht!" Chloe cut her off, practically bouncing, "Tonight's going to be a mini honeymoon party—just a few newlywed couples and friends. Music, champagne, and the best DJ! You have to come!"
"Well..." Nadia glanced at me instinctively.
I should've shut it down without hesitation. I didn't waste time getting drunk on champagne with strangers. But before I could refuse, I caught Nadia pretending not to care as she watched me. The second our eyes met, she looked away.
I changed my mind.
"Why not?" I said with a smile, sliding my arm around Nadia's waist. "We'd love to. Right, sweetheart?"
Nadia went rigid against me.
She looked up, those blue eyes burning with shock and confusion, though her mouth held its polite smile.
"Of course," she said through gritted teeth, voice tight, "My husband's always so... social."
"Perfect!" Chloe clapped her hands. "It's a pool party theme, so bring your swimsuits! We're meeting at the dock at five! Oh, and dress code is casual chic, but you two will look amazing in anything!"
She bounced off with Ben, leaving us standing under the cabana.
The sea breeze swept through. The air went suddenly quiet.
Nadia jerked out of my arms.
"What the hell are you thinking?" She kept her voice low, but her eyes could've burned holes through me. "A yacht party? Are you serious?"
"Absolutely." I kept my hands in my pockets, watching her. "Problem?"
"Problem?" She couldn't believe it, "Roman Sokolov, you're a mob boss! You should be hiding in shadows, not going to some goddamn pool party!"
"Exactly because I'm a mob boss," I said evenly, "I need to prove I'm 'normal.' And normal newlyweds go to parties like this."
She bit her lip, clearly scrambling for a rebuttal.
"But... I don't have a swimsuit," she finally said.
"Then we'll buy one." I said, "I need one too anyway."
"You—"
"Let's go, Kitten." I took her hand, not giving her a chance to refuse. "We've got a few hours."
We found a high-end swimwear boutique.
I leaned back on the leather sofa outside the fitting room, legs crossed, playing with my aviators. Ten minutes. That little wildcat was still stalling in there.
"Need help, Mrs. Sokolova?" I called out lazily, "I can come in and be your dressing assistant."
"Shut up! I'm almost done!" Her frustrated hiss came from inside.
A few seconds later, the door finally clicked and slid open.
I looked up. The second I saw her, the air seemed to get sucked out of the room.
She'd chosen a forest green bikini. The fabric was criminally scarce. Thin straps wound around her slender neck and her waist, leaving her honey-toned skin and perfect curves completely exposed. She looked like a siren fresh from the sea.
My jaw tightened.
"Is it... too much?" Nadia tugged uncomfortably at the side ties, cheeks flushed, eyes dodging mine. "Maybe I should try a one-piece—"
She started to turn. I was already on my feet.
I braced one hand on the doorframe, pushing into that cramped fitting room, using my heel to swing the door shut behind me. Locked.
"You're insane! We're in public!" Nadia backed up like a startled rabbit until her spine hit the cold full-length mirror.
I planted both hands on the mirror on either side of her, caging her in.
"This one." I lowered my head, fingertip grazing the thin strap at her collarbone, voice rough, "You look so fucking good I want to bend you over this mirror right now."
She gasped, chest heaving with nerves, that deep valley swaying beneath the minimal fabric, making my vision blur.
"If I wear this," she looked up, challenging me, "every man at that party's going to stare."
"Let them try." I smiled, eyes going dark. "Anyone looks too long, there'll be a few more eyeless bodies in the bay tonight."
I dipped my head, sucking hard at her neck in punishment, leaving an unmistakable mark, then moved to her ear. "You're mine, Kitten. I want everyone to see how hot you are, while knowing damn well only I get to mess up what's underneath."
Her face went crimson. She shoved me hard, yanked open the door, and stormed out. I watched her flustered retreat and laughed.
The yacht was bigger than I'd expected.
It was a luxury two-deck cruiser. The deck was strung with colored lights and white gauze that swayed in the breeze. The DJ booth sat at the stern, music already pumping—not deafening EDM, but lazy tropical rhythms.
Chloe and Ben were already on deck, along with three other newlywed couples. Everyone wore swimsuits, holding champagne, looking perfectly relaxed in the sunset glow.
"They're here!" Chloe squealed and waved, "Oh my God, Nadia! That swimsuit is killer!"
Nadia stiffened beside me.
She'd kept a sheer cover-up wrapped around herself the whole ride over, but now, under Chloe's enthusiastic gaze, she had no choice but to slip it off.
The deck went quiet for a second.
Every man's eyes turned to her.
My jaw clenched. I swept my gaze over them. They immediately looked away, suddenly fascinated by their drinks.
Good. At least they weren't idiots.
"Here, have a drink!" Ben handed us champagne. "Tonight's about letting loose! Forget work, forget stress, just enjoy!"
Nadia took the glass and sipped lightly. The sea breeze tousled her hair, and in the sunset, her profile looked gilded in gold.
"Can you swim?" I asked quietly.
"A little," she said, "Not great though."
"Then I'll teach you." I took her hand. "Come on."
"Wait—now?" Her eyes went wide.
I didn't answer. Just pulled her to the yacht's rail. Before she could react, I let go and dove into the warm water.
"Roman!" She leaned over the railing. "Are you crazy?"
"Come down." I looked up at her from the water, droplets sliding down my face. "Don't tell me you're scared."
"I'm not!" she said stubbornly.
"Then what are you waiting for?" I reached up. "Jump. I'll catch you."
She hesitated, then took a deep breath.
Under my gaze, she closed her eyes and jumped.
Water splashed everywhere.
I swam over immediately, arm circling her waist, pulling her to the surface.
"You scared the hell out of me!" She gasped, hands clutching my shoulders. "Could you give a girl some warning?"
"Where's the fun in that?" I grinned, arm still steady around her, "How's the water?"
"Um..." She gradually relaxed, "Not bad."
The water rippled gently around us. Sunset painted the entire sea gold and crimson. The music from the yacht picked up, and others started jumping in too, laughter echoing across the water.
"Relax." My voice was low near her ear. "Lean back. I've got you."
"I'll sink—"
"You won't." My palm pressed against her back. "Trust me."
She reluctantly released my shoulders, slowly leaning back. The water lifted her body. Her hair spread across the surface like a blooming flower.
"See," I said, "You did it."
She opened her eyes, gazing at the darkening sky. The first star had appeared.
"Beautiful," she whispered.
"Yeah," I said, watching her, "Beautiful."
But I wasn't talking about the stars.
The music shifted to a more upbeat rhythm.
Chloe shouted from the deck, "Dance time! Everyone up!"
We climbed back aboard. Nadia's hair dripped wet, seawater sliding down her curves. I handed her a towel.
"Thanks." She took it, roughly toweling her hair.
"Come dance!" Chloe grabbed Nadia's hand. "Your husband looks like he can move!"
"I'm not really—" Nadia tried to refuse.
But Chloe had already pulled her to the center of the deck. Others gathered around, bodies swaying to the music.
I stepped beside her, hand finding her waist.
"Follow the rhythm," I murmured in her ear, "Don't overthink it."
She started stiff, but gradually, infected by the music and atmosphere, she loosened up. Her body moved with the beat, hands resting on my shoulders.
Lights danced across her face. Her eyes laughed. She was glowing.
This was what she should be.
Not that careful, guarded girl at the manor, but a woman in her twenties who should be enjoying life, carefree.
The music switched to a slow song.
Everyone naturally pulled their partners close, swaying gently.
I drew Nadia closer, letting her head rest against my chest. She didn't resist, just quietly followed my steps.
"Tired?" I asked softly.
"A little," she said.
"Let's sit for a bit."
I led her to the bow where comfortable loungers waited. We sat side by side, facing the endless sea.
Night had fully fallen. Stars crowded the sky. The breeze carried salt and moisture, brushing softly across our skin.
"When I was little, I wanted a wedding like this," Nadia said suddenly, voice soft.
I turned to look at her.
"By the ocean," she continued, eyes distant, "In a beautiful dress, dancing with someone I loved. Then sitting on the beach watching stars, listening to the waves."
"Sounds beautiful," I said.
"Yeah." She smiled, but it tasted bitter. "I was young—seven or eight maybe. Dad would take us to Lake Michigan on weekends. Mom would pack all this food, my brother Leon would chase seagulls..."
Her voice faded. "Everything's different now."
Something tightened in my chest.
I'd seen countless people cry, beg, despair. Those images never stirred anything in me. But now, watching that brief shadow cross Nadia's eyes, I felt a strange ache.
She'd lost more than freedom. She'd lost what should have been hers—a normal courtship, a romantic proposal, someone she actually wanted to marry.
"Nadia—" I started.
"Don't." She turned suddenly, flashing me a bright smile—too forced, almost painful to look at. "Don't look at me like that. I don't need a mob boss's pity."
She stood, stretching, acting casual. "Besides, honestly? This isn't so bad. At least I don't have to worry about wedding budgets, stressing over booking the perfect venue, or dealing with tedious guest lists. Everything's handled."
"Are you trying to make me feel better?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Dream on." She huffed, "I'm making myself feel better."
She sat back down, closer this time. She stared at the distant water, then asked suddenly, "What about you?"
"What?"
"When you were little, did you ever imagine your wedding?" She turned to look at me, eyes curious. "Don't tell me you wanted to marry an AK-47."
I laughed at her sharp tongue and wild imagination.
"Of course I did. What do you think I am, some heartless machine?" I shrugged, half-joking.
"Really?" She looked genuinely surprised. "I thought you'd say something like 'marriage is just a political tool.'"
"Marriage is a political tool," I said, "But that doesn't mean I never... hoped for something else."
The sea breeze carried its salt tang. My thoughts drifted back years, to firelight flickering, consuming everything. Not a pleasant memory, but like an old scar that still ached on rainy days.
"I went to church a lot," I began slowly, "Not to pray. To watch weddings. Someone told me church weddings were the most sacred ceremony in the world—two souls making a promise before God."
Nadia listened quietly, not interrupting.
"Back then I'd wonder what mine would be like," I continued, "Maybe if I got lucky enough, I'd marry someone who'd make me want to walk away from everything. Then family, power, blood feuds—none of it would matter."
"And then?" Nadia asked softly.
"Then I became Pakhan." My voice was calmer than expected. "Too busy to breathe. Endless territory disputes, endless arms deals, endless traitors to kill. No time for church anymore."
I paused, turning to her. "And I realized—in our world, 'walking away' doesn't exist. Marriage is a transaction. Feelings are weaknesses."
"So you just believed it?" she asked, some emotion I couldn't read in her voice.
"I had to," I said, "Because that's the reality. Everyone who goes soft over feelings ends up dead."
The sound of waves against the hull was sharp in the silence.
"What about now?" Nadia asked suddenly, "Do you still think that?"
I looked at her.
Moonlight spilled across her face. Her eyes shone like stars in the dark. She stared straight at me, waiting for my answer.
In that moment, I felt an impulse—
I wanted to tell her maybe things were changing.
But reason kept the words inside.
Because I wasn't sure if that change was good or bad.
"Maybe," I finally said, voice rougher than intended, "But only God knows if what comes next is heaven or hell."
It was the most honest answer I could give.
Nadia stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed, something like relief in it.
"Roman Sokolov," she shook her head, "You know what? Sometimes I really can't figure you out."
"Likewise," I said.
"Hey! You two!" Chloe's voice suddenly rang out from the deck, breaking the intimate moment, "Quit being all lovey-dovey! We're playing games!"
Nadia pulled her gaze away, eyes lowered, not looking at me anymore.
"We... we should go," she said, voice hoarse.
"Yeah." I stood too.
But before turning, I suddenly took her hand.
She looked at me, surprised.
"Nadia." I met her eyes seriously. "Maybe you didn't get the wedding you dreamed of, but I promise..."
I paused, then continued. "I'll give you a marriage worth remembering. Even if it's only a year."
She froze, eyes glistening in the moonlight, like they'd been covered with a thin layer of mist.
"You..." her voice shook slightly, "Is that a promise?"
"It is," I said, "A mob boss's promise."
"Well, that's..." She suddenly smiled, "The most dangerous promise in the world."
"But also the most reliable." I brushed my thumb gently across her reddened eyes. "Come on. Don't keep them waiting."
She nodded, following me back to the center of the deck.
But this time, when I held her hand, she didn't pull away.
Her fingers tightened slightly, like she was responding to something.
And suddenly I saw it—in the moonlight, between our intertwined fingers, those two wedding rings pressed tight together.
Neither of us had taken them off.