Epilogue 1
Aurelia
Two months later
“Brake, Aurelia.”
“I am braking!”
Nikolai’s hand shoots out to grab the dash anyway. The car jerks and lurches, stopping two feet short of a fence. I throw it into park and flop back against the seat.
He exhales slowly. “You’re trying to kill us.”
I glance over at him. “If I were trying, you’d already be dead.”
His jaw ticks, that vein in his temple doing its thing. “Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea.”
“Because you love me and have terrible judgment.”
He gives me that flat, unimpressed I could kill you but I won’t because you’re cute kind of look.
I grin, putting my hands back on the wheel. “Let me practice for twenty more minutes and then you can take over. Oh—and don’t forget we have to get more treats for Hank.”
“Okay, but I still think you’ve been overfeeding him since you got him back.”
“Yeah, well.” I shrug. “He’s a good dog.”
We roll forward again, the car stuttering. He reaches over and steadies the wheel with one hand. I can feel him watching me, probably waiting for me to hit something else.
“You’re supposed to ease off the clutch,” he says.
“I am easing.”
“That’s not easing. That’s assaulting the clutch.”
I glare at him. “It’s not my fault my teacher hardly ever drives himself.”
He smirks. “You were the one who wanted to learn, malyshka.”
“Adrian said he could’ve taught me.”
The car jolts again, and he finally reaches over, placing his hand over mine to guide it.
“Please,” he says. “Who do you think taught him?”
His skin is warm, rough, and steady. I don’t look at him because I know he’s smirking.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” I mutter.
“Watching you lose your mind? Absolutely.”
“Glad I could provide entertainment, Mr. Control Issues.”
“Better than Miss. Brake-At-The-Last-Second.”
I snort, biting back a laugh, but I can’t hide the small smile tugging at my mouth.
We finally get onto a straight stretch of road, the car humming instead of choking.
* * *
Getting back home still alive—which I’m taking as a victory—sparks a weird feeling in my chest. I’m still adjusting to the thought that this is home, but I’m getting used to it.
The house sits on the edge of a cliff, all glass and pale stone that catches the sunset. Big, clean lines. No guards at the gate. No gold-plated bullshit like back in Anova.
It’s a nice place—five bedrooms, a pool that reflects the sky, a movie room I’ve claimed, and a training center that Nikolai built after I “accidentally” punched a hole in one of the guest room walls.
Technically, we could’ve bought the whole island. Between his money and the inheritance I pretended not to care about, it wouldn’t have even made a dent. But we wanted something smaller. Something that felt… ours.
Well—ours, Ivan’s and Maksim’s.
They live out back in the pool house. It sounds glamorous, but really it’s just their man cave with guns in the kitchen drawers and protein shakes where normal people keep milk.
When Nikolai’s away on business—which happens more often than I like—I usually eat with them. I said once that I didn’t care for eating alone; now, every night at seven, they’re there without fail. Ivan always burns whatever he’s cooking, and Maksim pretends to care about table manners.
It feels oddly comforting.
Nikolai says it’s peaceful here, and when I fall asleep with the windows open, the ocean breeze spilling into the room, not worried about my safety or my need to please anyone else, I almost start to believe him.
We don’t even make it out of the car. The second I get it into park, Nikolai’s mouth is on mine—urgent, rough, and too familiar to be gentle.
When we finally make it out, my back hits the car door with a dull thud, the metal still warm from the sun. His hands find my hips, pulling me closer, his grip desperate.
Every step toward the house is chaos—kisses that miss their mark, laughter tangled with gasps, the two of us tripping over each other because neither one wants to break away long enough to breathe.
By the time we reach the front door, my pulse is a drumbeat in my throat. I pull back, just far enough to smirk against his mouth.
“Whose turn is it to be in control tonight?”
He pauses, long enough to make me feel the power shift between us. Then he smiles.
“Yours.”
His hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers curling enough to make my breath catch. He pushes the door open with his other hand, guiding me inside, step by step, until my shoulders meet the wall.
And then—
A cough.
“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice calls from the kitchen.
Nikolai doesn’t move for a heartbeat, then lets out the slowest, most murderous sigh I’ve ever heard.
I look up at him and can’t help it—I laugh. The sound slips out, messy and real.
He mutters something in Russian I can’t exactly make out, but when his forehead rests against mine, his breath uneven, I can guess.
When I glance toward the kitchen, Adrian’s standing with ease.
“Adrian!”
I wriggle out of Nikolai’s hold and launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
“That’s enough,” Nikolai groans behind us.
I grin over my shoulder. “He’s working on the jealousy thing,” I say, giving Nikolai a pointed look. “Missed you, though,” I add to Adrian. “How’s everything? Your dad still throwing tantrums over the alliance changes?”
“Oh yeah, still an ass,” Adrian says easily. “But he’s thinking of letting me take full control of the Orlov name in March, so I can’t complain.”
I light up instantly. “That’s amazing!”
Adrian smirks. “I miss having you around, you know. You, and….” Then, turning toward his half-brother, he adds dryly, “Still a dick, Nikolai?”
Nikolai ignores him, moves to the counter, and pours himself a whiskey. “You know you didn’t have to come visit,” he says coolly.
“We miss you too,” I say for both of us.
There’s a lot of history between them, but things have been better since Adrian got the Orlov name and Nikolai got… well, me.
Adrian grins, unfazed. “I was thinking I could stay the night. Hang out with my favourite couple and your loyal henchmen.” He glances around. “Where are Maksim and Ivan?”
“Ivan’s out back,” I say, leaning on the counter. “Still whining that it’s harder to stalk his imaginary girlfriend from this side of the island, and Maksim’s working in Vostralya for the next few days.”
“Grumpy Ivan has a crush?” Adrian laughs.
“I know, right?” I say, grinning. “It’s weird.”
“That’s enough,” Nikolai cuts in, tone clipped but calm—which, for him, means barely contained.
“Adrian, why don’t you go bother Ivan so I can spend some time with my beautiful girlfriend?”
Adrian laughs. “I mean, I’d watch if you let me. I already know Aurelia’s a good kisser.”
“Adrian!” I smack him in the ribs, but he’s still grinning.
Nikolai, however, takes one slow, intentional step toward him, and that’s my cue to remind my insane boyfriend that murder is not always the answer.
I place a hand on Nikolai’s chest and raise my chin to meet his eyes. “It was a joke, Nik.”
That earns the faintest twitch of a smirk.
Adrian, wisely, takes the hint and backs toward the door. “You’re not so scary when she’s around,” he mutters. “I love it. Call me when you’re finished.”
“Out,” Nikolai says flatly, pointing.
When Adrian’s gone, Nikolai’s gaze sweeps the room, ensuring it’s just us.
His hand finds my jaw, tilting my chin up until all I can see are his eyes as he takes me in a deep, all-consuming kiss.