Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I shouldn’t care–especially not after the machinations my dad made with my marriage, but I’m happy. My parents support my choice of a husband.
Still holding Baron’s hand, my dad claps his other hand on Baron’s shoulder. “Benjamin.” It’s a bratva bro moment. There’s tremendous weight in my father’s tone.
Baron meets his eye, waiting. Steady. My father has intimidated every guy I’ve dated, but that will never be possible with Baron.
“Spasibo, moy brat.” Thank you, my brother.
Baron bows his head. “My honor.”
My mom beams up at him. “Now, what is this about you getting married?”
My dad releases Baron, and I slide under the protection of Baron’s arm, nesting myself against his side. “Baron wants a real wedding.” I look up at him, and he kisses the top of my head. “With a willing bride.”
My mom’s eyes dance in the mischievous way she has. “And now you’re willing?”
“I am.”
“I’m so happy. For both of you. I didn’t like that you thought he was your enemy when he was the one trying to help you, but your father thought it was safest that way.” She frowns up at my dad.
My dad remains silent.
“But it all worked out in the end,” my mom waxes on. “Love is messy. It’s uncomfortable. It brings up our deepest needs and our worst fears. But in the end it heals us.”
“Wow. You should write that down for the wedding toast.” I laugh. “Which reminds me. You’re going to tell me about how you two fell in love.” I point between her and my dad.
“Nyet,” my dad says.
“She can handle it,” my mom says. “After what she’s just been through, she will understand how circumstances can turn even the worst enemies into lovers.” She sends Baron an impish look. “Your parents’ marriage began as a kidnapping, too.”
Baron is usually good at not showing any reaction, but I can feel his body go still as he absorbs that.
“I can’t wait to call Lucy. We can plan the wedding together. Are you thinking it will be in Chicago?”
“Da,” my father answers even though the question wasn’t for him. “I want you to move back to Chicago. Things may be too hot here after what happened in Turkey.”
My mom nods.
“I’m sorry.” I hear the weight of responsibility in Baron’s voice, and I want to erase it. “I tried to avoid a war, but…he had to die.”
“He did,” my father says simply. “And we cleaned up. Anatoli Rostov will never know for sure who did it. So I can’t run, or it will make it obvious, but I need Kat to be safe, and she’ll be safe at the Kremlin with your father.”
“The Kremlin?” I ask blankly.
“That was the name the neighbors gave our building in Chicago,” Baron explains. “Because so many Russians lived in it.”
“Ah. Kind of how the students at Thornecroft call Baranov house, the Gulag.”
“Exactly.” I see the twitch of a smile on Baron’s face, and his eyes heat, like he’s planning another trip to the dungeon with me.
My nipples get hard.
“Perfect!” My mom claps her hands together. “I get to go plan a wedding. You two will go back to the Gulag.” She looks up at my dad. “I won’t like to be away from you, though,” she says softly.
Regret and longing wash over his face, and I see that deep, always passionate love the two share.
The kind of love I found.
With the man I trust with my life.
And my heart.
And my soul.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Baron
Sunday afternoon, I stand by the grill in the backyard of Baranov house, flipping burgers and brats. Melinda is in Ander’s lap on the outdoor sofa. Alex, Feliks, and Phoenix play frisbee with a few other house members.
Zoe’s acting hostess-y and setting out all the side dishes, plates, and silverware. Anya’s playing DJ.
Lara and I got back to Thornecroft a full week ago. We spent the past week recovering from our bruises and catching up on our studies, but today I decided it was time for a house party and invited everyone for an afternoon barbecue.
My beautiful wife hands me a beer from the cooler, and I give her a kiss. We’ve been on honeymoon all week, starting over with our relationship, falling more deeply in love. She’s friends with everyone in the house, becoming more playful and spontaneous every day.
The atmosphere in the house is lighter than it’s ever been. Or maybe that’s just me. I feel lighter than ever. There’s still a serious edge to me. I know I’m responsible for the safety, well-being, and financial abundance of everyone here, but that sense of having my very soul on lockdown—that fear of looking away for a moment and missing something—is gone.
Lara took the blade out of my heart–the one I inserted myself after watching Valentina die– and she patched it up. The wound is still there, it’s still sore, but I no longer feel like I’m fighting to survive every night while I sleep.