“Why, thank you. You’re quite handsome too.” She takes in my black tux, flown down from Spain.
Milo giggles at something Lev says, and when I glance down at the two boys standing proudly beside us, I can’t help feeling complete, like all the pieces are finally in their place.
I lean closer to Sloane, lowering my tone so only she can hear me. “I could die happy right now.”
“We’d much prefer it if you lived.” She places a hand on her stomach, her smile gleaming beneath the veil.
And this sense of immense possessiveness slams into me.
She’s growing a baby.Ourbaby.
“Ya lyublyu tebya,” I remind her.
“I love you too,” she whispers.
She’s been learning Russian, and I have to give her credit because it is not an easy language.
Before either of us can say anything else, Father Pasha begins the blessing, while I already want him to end. This is just for show, but I wanted her to have the entire experience of a Marinov wedding.
But I, of course, have no patience. I just want to get to the end. To kiss her, to dance with her, to get her alone so I can properly show her just how much I love her.Allof her.
Father Pasha finishes the final blessing, and after we say our vows, he finally gets to the words I’ve been waiting for.
“You may kiss the bride.”
The second the words leave, I pull her toward me, one hand sliding behind her neck as I crash my mouth to hers.
Cheers erupt, laughter and applause rising around us, but I stop hearing it almost immediately. All I feel is her.
And in this moment, standing here with my wife in my arms and our boys beside us, I finally understand what it means to have a purpose.
Because they’re mine.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
SLOANE
The backyard is completely deckedout. A polished dance floor glows beneath strands of soft light stretched between the trees, and every table is dressed with tall arrangements of white roses and orchids threaded with crystal strands, while candles flicker in glass holders.
The band plays something smooth and romantic near the back of the garden, and everywhere I look, people are dressed in tailored suits and evening gowns that probably cost more than my old house. Farther off, acrobats are performing for a small crowd.
I still can’t believe this is my new life.
Kirill’s arm rests easily around my waist as we move through the crowd, stopping every few steps so he can greet someone new. I’m doing my best to keep track of names without looking as overwhelmed as I feel.
The next couple heading our way is impossible to miss. The woman is tall and striking with vivid red hair falling in thick waves down her back and bright turquoise eyes. The man beside her, dark-haired and sharply dressed, carries himself with the kind of easy confidence that makes it clear he’s someone powerful.
“Well, well,” the redhead says when they reach us, her smile playful as her gaze moves between Kirill and me. “Looks like the Marinov brothers are dropping like hats.”
She pauses, considering.
“Or flies,” she adds with a laugh. “I can never remember which one it is.”
Kirill chuckles. “Sloane, this is Gio Marino, from the Messina family.”
Gio shakes my hand politely.
“And this…” Kirill gestures to the woman beside him. “…is Iseult Quinn, of the Irish family.”
