“A dog?” he demands. “We have a dog now? Anything else you want to spring on me before bedtime?”
“Um, no?” she says in between snickers.
He groans into his hands. “I leave you alone for less than a week, and suddenly there’s a dog, a territory war, and you’re—” he waves vaguely at us “—dating Viktor Balshov?!”
Mikhail snorts. “The ‘war’ was a skirmish at best. Come on, man. I’ll buy you a beer. Maybe three.”
Andrei mutters something in Russian that sounds suspiciously like a curse, but follows Mikhail.
The moment the door closes behind them, the apartment falls quiet again. Natalya turns to me slowly, her eyes softening as she cups my face in her hands.
“I love you, Viktor.”
My chest tightens, fierce and hot and for the first time in many years, I feel a push of what might be tears behind my eyelids. “I love you too.”
She kisses me—or maybe I kiss her…But soon, we’re both naked in her bedroom—a tangle of limbs. And I watch her face, the twist of pleasure in her expression as I slide my hands between her legs, slipping two fingers inside of her. She lets out a breathless sigh, her eyes falling close as she lets herself get lost in the sinful pleasure of my fingers.
And when she’s all wet and mindless with desire, I replace my fingers with my cock…filling her up and pushing close to the brink, only to bring her back. I thrust hard and fast, fueled by her moans, her little whimpers and the sound of my name on her lips.
And when she finally lets go, her body quivering uncontrollably beneath mine—I’m right behind.
Falling.
Epilogue
Two years later
Natalya
If someone had shown me a glimpse of my current life a few years ago, I wouldn’t have believed it. I just never imagined myself so overwhelmingly in love.
Two years later and I still live in the apartment two floors above the flower shop, the same creaky wooden floors and second floor full of orchids…but instead of waking up alone, I wake up next to Viktor Balshov. My husband. My home.
We’ve been married just under a year, and in that time Andrei finally moved out—something he claimed he did to “give us space,” though Viktor likes to tease that he simply couldn’t handle hearing us at night. Andrei denies it. But he also turns pink every time the topic comes up, so that tells its own story.
He still visits constantly. Usually unannounced. Usually with some ridiculous excuse. And I love it.
The whole family is closer now. I’m closer now.
Especially to Mikhail.
Our friendship surprised me. He’s nothing like Viktor—loud, charismatic, dramatic, always in motion—but watching them together, especially now as I wander through his Los Angeles apartment looking for my husband, it always makes sense.
I find them on the balcony, exactly where I knew they’d be.
Viktor is sitting in one of the lounge chairs, a glass of whiskey resting loosely in his hand. He’s relaxed in that quiet way he gets only around people he trusts completely. Mikhail is leaning on the railing beside him, grinning like he owns the entire city spread out below them.
There is a lifetime of understanding in every look they share, the kind only brothers can have. Even if only half-brother’s.
I pause at the doorway for a moment, smiling to myself. This—a quiet evening with shared laughter and drinks—is Viktor’s way of celebrating Mikhail’s latest award. His record label just won something huge, something that will keep him flying between LA and New York for weeks.
I’m proud of him. Viktor is too, even if he expresses it in grunts and half-smirks.
My phone buzzes.
I check it and immediately laugh under my breath.
It’s a picture from my sister-in-law, Mireille, of Vanda and her new puppy, Dasha, both asleep on the floor of Dmitri and Mireille’s penthouse. Vanda has one leg thrown over the little furball like she’s claiming her.
