Epilogue
Kirill
One year later.
I am a grown man. A Bratva underboss. I have killed people with my bare hands.
Yet somehow, tonight, I am sneaking through my own hangar like a teenager trying not to wake his parents up just so he could go to some party.
Only I’m not going to any party.
I’m getting married.
“Stop looking so goddamn suspicious,” Stella whisper-yells beside me. “You’re acting like you’ve never been here.”
I don’t bother pointing out that she doesn’t look any less inconspicuous by dragging a suspiciously long white garment bag behind her like it’s a guilty conscience.
“You’re leaving a trail, milaya,” I mutter instead. “Give me that.”
She lifts the bag higher for me to grab and lets out a huff. “Relax. It’s not like anyone is going to think, ‘Oh look, there goes a Bratva underboss and an Outfit enforcer on their way to get hitched in Vegas without letting their families know.’”
“Not only is that extremely specific.” I give her a playful look. “But it’s literally what we’re about to do.”
Her mouth curves in that way that always gets me into trouble. “Details.” She winks, causing my heart to flutter in my chest.
The hangar lights wash everything in a cold, white glow, while also somehow making my woman have this ethereal radiance about her.
“Stop staring!” She giggles, using her free hand to grab my chin and direct my attention somewhere else.
Though she didn’t do it on purpose, my gaze lands on the jet that awaits for us near the far end of the building, polished and perfect, the Petrov crest gleaming near its tail.
Inside I know that there is only the pilot and co-pilot present.
No security. No brothers. No Pakhan. No fucking witnesses.
Exactly the way I requested.
When we get the go ahead to approach the plane, Stella walks with purpose, chin up, eyes forward, like the fierce goddess she is.
Instead of her usual sexy ensemble of black pants and top, she’s opted for leggings and an oversized hoodie, thinking that would be the perfect disguise for today’s adventure.
“Are you sure Kostya won’t tell Misha?” she murmurs as we get closer to the jet. “Or Lucky? Or literally any relative I have, because you know how Kostya and Lucky gossip like it’s a sport.”
“I made him pinkie swear not to utter a word to anyone. Happy?” I laugh. “What about you? Do I have to worry that Annamaria will tell your mom we’re doing this?”
“No, I made her promise. Anna can keep a secret,” she says with conviction. “What about your flight crew?”
“I handpicked them myself,” I say quietly. “They are loyal to me. They know better than to do anything that might get in the way of… this.” I gesture between us.
Her eyes flick to mine at that. For a second, something soft and bright moves through them, like sunlight catching glass.
“This,” she echoes, her voice low.
I want to grab her by the nape and kiss her stupid, but I content myself with just holding her hand. Cameras may or may not be watching. I’m not usually paranoid by nature, but like hell am I taking any chances today of someone spotting us on a screen and alerting her father.
It’s not like I didn’t ask all three of Stella’s dads for their blessing.
That was the first thing I did when we returned from Russia last year.
It’s on them for keeping me waiting this long.
“Everything is ready, sir.” The pilot nods in greeting when we reach the stairs. “Flight plan is filed for Las Vegas. We can depart at your command.”
“Give us five minutes to get settled and we can go.”
“Yes, sir.”
The co-pilot beside him smiles at us like he’s trying really hard not to. And when his gaze catches on the garment bag, it cements his wide smile in place, knowing exactly what Stella and I are about to do.
Blyad.
He’s probably surprised it took us this long to elope. The two pilots have flown us to more than one exotic location before, so they know we’re pros when it comes to the honeymoon part of a marriage. It’s the ‘walking down the aisle part’ that’s taken us a hot minute to do.
And that’s because every fucking Romano seemed to be intent in beating us to the punch before we ever got the chance.
“We have champagne on ice and some food prepared for the flight,” the co-pilot suddenly remembers to say.
“Thank you,” Stella replies warmly. “That’s greatly appreciated.”
The fucker all but blushes under such praise.
It’s a fucking problem.
Everyone always seems to fall for my woman’s charm.
Staff, soldiers, enemies.
Makes my job that much harder. Makes my life that much sweeter, too.
We walk up the stairs, the metal rattling softly under our feet, each step an echo of the lifelong decision we’re about to make. Halfway up, Stella glances over her shoulder at the hangar. The city beyond it is only a distant glow through the open doors.
“Are you thinking of running, dusha moya?” I ask, teasingly.
“No.” She snorts. “Just checking if one of my brothers is going to materialize out of thin air to drag me back home, kicking and screaming. Marcello, in particular, comes to mind.”
“That would be an impressive thing for him to accomplish,” I say. “Since he would have to get through me first.”
She smirks. “You like him too much to shoot him.”
“I did not say I would shoot him. I said he would have to get through me.”
It’s true that Marcello and I have a certain understanding in place. After Stella told me he was the force behind her father letting her come to Russia at a point in my life, where she was all I needed, I came to respect him a bit more.
But let’s not get things twisted.
If anyone dares come in between me and Stella, family or not, they will bleed.
Inside the jet, the scent of leather, cleaner, and a faint trace of caviar meets us. Lights glow warm and golden along the ceiling. Cream seats, dark wood accents, everything ordered and disciplined, exactly how I like it.
I close the door behind us. The click is firm and final.
For the first time tonight, I let my shoulders drop.
No brothers. No Pakhan. No Romanos. No soldiers.
Just Stella and me and the choice we are about to make.
I walk down the aisle and pause beside one of the side closets, easing the garment bag off my shoulder. Then I walk back towards Stella, who is chewing her bottom lip, her mind a million miles away.
“What’s wrong, milaya?” I ask, grabbing her by the waist and plopping her on my lap.
“Are you getting cold feet on me now?” I joke, but when she doesn’t reply, my brows furrow.
“We do not have to do this tonight,” I tell her quietly.
“We can still go back. We can even have a big wedding if you’ve changed your mind.
Your mother would love nothing more. We can pretend to be normal people. ”
She turns to face me, her green eyes finding mine, calm and steady now.
“We are anything but normal,” she says with a teasing smile.
“And my mother has had enough weddings for the year. She can make a grand event when it’s Annamaria’s turn.
Besides, if we wait for the perfect moment, it will never come.
There will always be some deal to make, or a rival to take care of, or some guy who accidentally shoots his gun in a church. ”
“That was one time,” I say, with a pout
“It was Lucky’s and Frankie’s wedding day.”
“And I apologized. How was I to know the safety was off? Honest mistake.”
She laughs softly, and the tension eases again. “No, it wasn’t. You were just pissed they got married before us.”
“I admit nothing.”
“I want this,” she says, after a long pause, while looking deep into my eyes. “I want you. I want to stand in front of some bored Elvis impersonator and say that I want to be your wife without half of Chicago and half of Moscow watching me do it.”
“I want that more than anything, dusha moya. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Her gaze softens as she lays her head on my shoulder, running her fingers over my other shoulder where her bite-mark tattoo is hidden away.
“Mr. Petrov. Please take your seats as we are taking off,” the copilot advises before he returns to the cockpit.
But I don’t move a muscle. I stay exactly where I am, my arms around the love of my life.
The jet begins to move, a soft rumble under our feet. Stella stares out the window like she is committing every light to memory.
“We can come back tomorrow if you want?” I ask, needing to know every thought that is rummaging through her head.
“I’d like that. It would be nice if we could spend our honeymoon at the lake house at least.”
But it’s the faint hint of sadness in her voice that makes me turn her chin toward me.
“What’s wrong, milaya? You’re scaring me a little.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just… just…”
“What?” I press. “What is it?”
“When I imagined our wedding day, I thought it would happen by our lake. I pictured the stars above us as we promised to love and to hold, till death do us part.” Her voice softens.
“I guess I’m just mourning the dream I had for us.
It’s silly, really. Before I met you, I never thought about things like that at all… and now…” She shrugs.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask softly, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips. “It was your idea for us to go to Vegas and elope.”
“That’s because I got tired of waiting. First, it was Marcello’s wedding. Then Enzo’s. And then Lucky’s.” She scoffs softly. “Lucky’s, Kill. He got his happily ever after before we did.”
“Now you see why I fired my gun,” I mutter.
“I knew it!” she laughs, but my heart is too heavy to join her.
I kiss her quickly once more and then gently shift her back into her seat as I stand.
“Where are you going?” she asks, confused.
“I’m stopping this plane from taking off.”
“What? Now?!” she gasps.
“Yes, dusha moya,” I say calmly. “I will give you your dream wedding if it’s the last thing I do.”
And with that, I slide the cockpit door open and order them to stop.
Both pilots stare at me like I’ve lost my mind, but they aren’t the ones I need to make happy.
It’s Stella’s smile I need to ensure is always on her lips.
“This is crazy,” she laughs, that beautiful, beaming smile finally back in place.
There it is. That’s more like it.
“It’s late,” she adds. “You’ll never find someone to do the ceremony.”
“I would ask your brother-in-law, Alejandro,” I admit, “but that would defeat the purpose of us trying to elope without anyone finding out. Lucky for us, I’ve become extremely well-connected in Chicago lately, thanks to our casino.
I’m sure I can find someone discreet to perform the ceremony for us. ”
“Really?” Her green eyes sparkle.
I extend my hand to her and wait. When she places hers in mine, her engagement ring winks at me like it’s just as pleased as she is with the change in venue.
“Now, milaya,” I whisper softly, “will you make me the happiest man on earth and dance with me one more time?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”