TWENTY-FIVE THEY SET A DATE!
TWENTY-FIVE
THEY SET A DATE!
At least Brennan warned me she’d be in a mood.
And Victoria in a mood is somehow more glorious than a happy Victoria.
When she’s happy, she’s buoyant. Effervescent. There’s magic in that. For me, at least.
Pissed off, however, she makes a storm front circle us.
Her presence is dramatic. Showstopping.
The second we walk through the doors to the gala, I just know the whole room is going to stop and stare at us. Simply because she’ll catch every eye in there like this. Unfortunately for her, I have ways of making her smile…
As I climb into the car, that storm front surges into a wall of ice.
“Drive around Central Park until I order otherwise.” I raise the privacy screen then turn to face her. “Well, don’t you look glorious.”
Her mouth forms a moue.
“I assume you’re not wearing what I picked out to punish me?”
“No. It didn’t set the tone. I’m walking into war.”
“I’ve never known any soldier’s uniform be so enchanting,” I say lightly.
What I picked was sassy—like her. But I can see why she switched it out. This one’s a mermaid-type dress. The skirt more of a tail that flares above the knee. It’s a pure ecru, only offset by sparkling sequins that glimmer in the car’s low lighting.
The sequins aren’t gaudy. They come in many different creams and beiges, whites interspersed with Champagne-like golden flecks, especially on her chest.
Her tanned skin enhances the foamy sea-green, adding to the ethereal air of her outfit. A corset appears to prop up her breasts—if not that, some fancy dressmaking skills.
The neckline is pure magic.
It’s sheer but also a fabric, not just her skin, and the line of sequins drifts in and out as if there is no beginning or end to the dress and her.
Elbow-length silk gloves and teal pumps complete the outfit.
A harsh truth ricochets around my brain—she’s a princess from a fairy tale.
I’m not sure I deserve to be her prince.
“Cat got your tongue, Maxim?”
I study her for so long that she squirms. I had this planned before Brennan warned me but…
I slide off the back seat and onto one knee.
Her eyes bug as she jerks upright in surprise. “What are you doing?”
“I recognized something in you a long time ago, Victoria. I know our beginnings are unusual, but my soul saw yours and knew it had met its match.
“I will never diminish your fire. I will never cut your wings. And I will always help you fulfill your promise because that’s what you are, Victoria.
A promise. Of better. Of more. Of a future.
One that I want to share with you. One that I want to share with no other. Will you, Victoria Vasov, be my wife?”
She stares at the ring in my hand for so long that it’s my turn to shuffle on my knee, especially when we go over a damn pothole.
Then, she sniffles. “Set a date, Maxim.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a, ‘Tell me when I’ll be your wife, Maxim.’”
“How about tomorrow?”
“What?!”
“Ever since the bath… my mind’s been racing. Thinking about it. I don’t want to wait.”
“That’s because you want me so much. You cockblocked yourself.”
“You underestimate the power you have over me, Victoria. And I didn’t cockblock myself. I set your worth as higher than someone to fuck.
“I want my wife. I’ll wait as long as you want to. We can have a second, larger ceremony if you choose, but our lives have been public fodder in one way or another for years. This can be purely ours. Our secret.”
“Our secret,” she echoes, and I know that ensnares her. “I agree only if you let Shay be my witness.”
My lips curve. “I had Vlad remain behind in Poughkeepsie so that he could bring Seamus to New York City if you agreed.”
“This is crazy,” she declares, but her laugh screams her delight.
“Good crazy?”
“Brilliant crazy. When?”
“Tonight, tomorrow, Sunday. Whenever.”
“Tomorrow. At our house.”
Our house. Fuck, what those two words do to me.
I dip my chin. “Agreed.”
A squeal escapes her and she lifts her arms for me. “I can’t move without tearing this goddamn dress I picked to drive you insane! Come and kiss me!”
Feeling freer than I have in a long time, I surge onto the seat beside her, careful not to wreck her dress, her hair, or her makeup, and hold her as close as we can in our current circumstances.
“Ugh, there’s too much space between us.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever spoken wiser words.” I press my lips to hers and seal our agreement. “Tomorrow, you’ll be my wife.”
When she laughs, my heart soars at how happy she sounds.
“Tomorrow, you’ll be my husband.” She cups my chin.
“I didn’t know when I was younger that, looking at you, I’d feel so complete.
Everything about you gets me, Maxim. I know there’ll be ups and downs, I do, and I’m pretty sure they’ll come sooner rather than later because of the Veronians, but—”
“That’s a problem for another day, kotik. And definitely not tomorrow.” I nuzzle my nose against hers because I figure that has the least makeup on it.
She runs her fingers over my jaw. “I can’t wait for you to be mine.”
I snatch that same gloved hand and hold it flat out so I can slide a ring on her finger. “It matches the set you’re wearing. Yekaterina Alekseyevna Romanova last wore this set—”
“All of it?” she butts in.
“Yes.”
“Did you steal it from a museum?”
Amused that she always thinks the worst of me, I drawl, “If I had, do you think I’d let you wear it out in public?”
“True.”
Trust Victoria to look disappointed.
She lifts her hand and studies the ring, then wiggles it between her fingers. “I love it. But I refuse to wear the earrings and necklace every day.”
I bark out a laugh. “I think we can agree to that. Your guards are already high strung as well as on anti-anxiety meds. Let’s not make them complete nervous wrecks.”
A smile dances on her lips. “I knew this day would come, but it felt like it never would.”
“You didn’t have faith in me,” I chide.
“No. That’s not true. I had complete faith in you. I just didn’t know what you were waiting for. I’d grown up. I was in college and you still didn’t come for me.”
“You had to come to me, pchelka.”
“Wish you’d left me a clue about that. I’d have stalked you at your lair last year.”
I press a kiss to her ring. “Only the best for my queen.”
She shivers. “Umm, I like that. You need to add that to your coterie of endearments.”
“Gladly, tsaritsa.” I slide my hand into my pocket. “I have another gift for you.”
She sits up. “More gifts! Yay!”
I hold out the box for her to take. Her fingers slide over the crushed velvet but her eyes lock on mine.
“You spoil me.”
“Always.”
She bites her lip, her teeth gnawing on the inner curve. “What is it?”
“Open it up and find out.”
A touch giddily, she flips the lid. “Oh, Maxim, I adore it. You remembered!”
“How could I not, korovka?”
It is a tiny hair pin. The tiniest.
“It’s darling!” Her features crumple. “I love it so much. I-I— Thank you.”
She strokes the guilloche enamel ladybug with her pinkie finger before plucking it from the velvet bed and sliding it just above the upper curve of her ear. “How does it look?”
“Beautiful. But you cannot improve perfection.”
More laughter tumbles from her lips. “I think I prefer it to the ring,” she confesses.
I arch a brow. “You should. It was stolen from a private collection.”
Eyes round, she gapes at me. “No way!”
“Yes way. It’s also a part of the Romanov collection. 1890s. Probably sat on one of the last Tsar’s daughters’ heads.”
That earns me another gasp.
“No!”
“Yes.”
“NO!”
I hide a smile. “We can play this game all night if you want…”
She curves into me. “Who did you steal it from?”
“That’s for me to know and for you not to find out.”
When I tap her nose, she pouts but curls her hand around my wrist. “Spasibo, malysh.”
“You’re welcome, kotik.”
After gracing me with the softest of kisses, she announces, “Okay, you can tell them we’re ready for the gala now.”
“You’re not mad at me anymore?” I deadpan.
She taps my nose. “Yes. But it’s not your fault my sister has an exhibitionist streak.”
My brows lift. “Exhibitionist streak?”
“Yeah, you know. The desk?”
I shrug. “What desk?”
A jubilant laugh escapes her. “Never mind.” She kisses my cheek. “Even if you’re lying, smart man.”
Lowering the partition, I give my orders. “As if I’d lie to my future bride on the night I propose.”
“Don’t milk it too much, Maxim,” she jibes.
I hide a smile then scowl when I see how close we are to the venue. “Are you ready?”
She does that wiggling thing with her fingers again. “Oh, yes. I’m ready for the city to know you’re totally taken.”
My groan has a twinkle appearing in her eye.
I intend to keep it there permanently.