Page 172 of Offside Angle

He looks unfairly put-together in a dark suit, cane in one hand, and takes approximately two seconds to assess the room before sighing like he has once again been forced to supervise a group of poorly trained animals.

“Ceremony starts in ten,” he says. “Finish whatever this is and get outside.”

For reasons I cannot explain, I immediately start messing with my tie again even though Elias has already fixed it.

“Is he there?” I ask, aiming for casual and missing by several kilometers. “He didn’t run off or anything, right?”

Damian tilts his head and gives me one long, unimpressed look. “Did you expect him to take a plane back to Ravensburg?”

I glare at him.

“He’s there, Vance. Move your ass.”

The bastard is smirking.

I point at him, still a little sniffly despite my best efforts. “You’re lucky I love you or I’d have you thrown out of my wedding for that tone.”

“Noted,” Damian says, completely unbothered.

Then he steps aside and holds the door open with the long-suffering patience of a man ushering children onto a field trip.

“Now. Outside. All of you.”

Elias grabs my hand and squeezes, already grinning again through whatever tears he hasn’t managed to blink away. Mats and Santi are still standing together looking disgustingly soft and settled, while Lena has somehow decided my cufflink needs fixing and starts adjusting it without asking.

For a second, I look at all of them.

At Elias beside me. At Lena fussing with my sleeve. At Mats and Santi together like they finally stopped making their lives unnecessarily complicated. At Damian pretending he isn’t sentimental while literally herding us toward my wedding.

And suddenly the nerves hit me properly.

Not fear.

Just the enormous, impossible reality of what I’m about to do.

I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and let Elias pull me toward the door.

Time to go marry Viktor Petrov.

Apparently.

Elias pulls me out of the lodge and into the late-afternoon light, and for one deeply inconvenient second I forget how walking works.

The ceremony is set on a stone terrace overlooking Lake Wakatipu, with the Remarkables rising sharp and almost unreal behind it. Rows of elegant chairs frame a clean aisle scattered with white petals and soft greenery, leading toward a simple arch dressed in white flowers at the far end. Nothing about it is overdone, because it doesn’t need to be; beyond the arch, the lake stretches deep blue beneath the mountains, and the whole thing sits under an enormous New Zealand sky washed gold by the lowering sun.

A light wind moves across the terrace, tugging at jackets and dresses and carrying the clean, cold smell of the water up from below, and the entire place is so perfect that it immediately becomes a problem.

Everyone is already seated, and the moment I recognize Viktor’s mother near the front, whatever ability I had to pretend I’m fine disappears completely. I turn toward Elias, shake my head, and take a breath that sounds suspiciously like I’ve just finished a shift instead of walked twenty feet from a lodge.

“You’re doing amazing,” he says, softer now. “You ready?”

I shake my head again, and Elias waits without pushing until, after another breath, I manage to nod.

His grin spreads as he squeezes my arm. “Come on. Before the Russian man decides we’re late and comes hunting for us.”

“That is a legitimate concern.”

“It really is.”