“Ready?”
I nod. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.
We leave the room together and walk out into the hallway. As we approach the stairs, decorated with a million white roses, my heart feels like it’s going a million miles a minute. The adrenaline rush is the only thing keeping my feet moving.
I step onto the landing and the music changes to announce my arrival. The entire downstairs is filled with people. So many Bratva are in their best suits, tattoos sticking out on the backs of hands and through open collars.
And standing at an altar made of white roses is Roman. He looks up at me with his ocean blue eyes shining like diamonds. The moment he sees me, the corners of his lips turn up. And all I feel is love.
So. This is how the beginning of my new life starts. Never thought the daughter of a cop would end up a Bratva queen… but here we are.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
32
EPILOGUE
EMBER
Some might say that a year isn’t enough time to start thinking about branching out, but Roman seemed to be pretty intent on doing just that.
I’ve been running around all morning and well into the afternoon trying to make sure that everything is in place for the moment we open the doors. It hasn’t been easy since Roman has been keeping the particulars about the purchase close to his chest.
I don’t know what that’s about. Before we were married, we agreed that the only way it was going to work is if I were all in. That is, I had to be plugged into the Bratva world just as much as he is. That had been his idea. He once told me that the greatest way to bring a Pakhan down was to get to those closest to them and a lot of the times, Bratva wives were in the dark about their business dealings.
I think about that conversation as we sit in the back of the car on the way to the opening. He’s been good about keeping me in the loop about things after all this time—within reason, anyway.He never tells me things that I don’t want to know. I mean, I’ve accepted that part of his business has to do with shady illegal moves and such, but I never want to know too much detail. Sometimes, knowing too much is a bad thing.
But this? This is different, and honestly, I feel a little singed by it. I never wanted to be a manager my whole life. The goal had always been to own my own club one day… not to spend my life managing his clubs.
I shouldn’t think that way. I know that his intentions are good. I know that he’s building this life for us, making it so that I will never want for a thing. It’s noble. It’s the best part of who he is.
But just once, I would have liked to have my own thing. My own club. My own company… It’s the old urges that I had ages ago. Back before Ricky. Back when I was looking at the world like it was my oyster. So much has changed since that time. Maybe I should just relax, enjoy being the wife of a Bratva boss instead of reaching for more. Is that ungrateful to think that way?
“Ember?”
His voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance over at him and I almost look away. He looks good today in his casual suit, the top buttons undone. His dark hair has been freshly cut. The lines are neat and tidy around his scalp. His beard is neatly trimmed and almost pristine.
I love how he looks. I love how he looks at me. Even now. Even a year later. I don’t think I’m ever going to get sick of looking at him.
“Sorry,” I say, giving him a little smile. “I was just… thinking.”
“You’ve been kind of distant for weeks now. You want to talk about it?”
I want to scoff. A little bitterness about all this tinges the edges of everything, I guess. I love how he always picks the most inappropriate times to talk about stuff. Now is not the time to talk about the dream I’ve had to defer to be his wife.
“Later, maybe?” I say, doing my best to keep my tone even. “I just want to get this opening done and over… with…”
I trail off as we round the corner. There’s a line of people standing on the street almost to the end of the block. Everybody’s dressed in club clothes, women in short, glittery dresses and men in expensive suits and gold chains…
Are all these people waiting for the grand opening of the club?
“Oh, my God,” I whisper. I hear Roman chuckle.
“Amazing, isn’t it? That advertising campaign I sprang for did the trick. It’s going to be a great opening.”
It is. I guess I should have trusted Roman’s assessment of things. We’re clearly ready for growth. I just didn’t think this many people would be this interested in a strip club.
“This is crazy,” I say as the car pulls up to the front of the club. “I… I’m shocked.”
