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Sloane

He rested his fingers along my jaw, eyes locked on mine, his touch enough to steal the breath right out of my lungs.

“I love you.”

The words landed in my chest like a blow. Not sweet or soft. Just that terrifying, earth-splitting honesty that felt bigger than any promise he’d ever made.

My throat went tight. I hadn’t expected him to say it. I certainly hadn’t expected to feel it swell reciprocally inside me so fast, so certain, but I did.

There was no point pretending otherwise.

“I love you, too,” I whispered.

His jaw flexed like he hadn’t expected to feel it either. Like my words cracked something in him that evenhedidn’t know how to brace for.

And then his voice dropped, deep and dark, thick with heat and intent. “I’m going to show you just how much when we get home tonight.”

A shiver rolled through me so hard I swore the air moved around us. He stepped back, just enough to open the door and call everyone back inside. The brothers returned first—Maxim, Ivan, Sergei, Aleksei. My father followed last, looking like he wanted to say something, but thought better of it.

No one asked what we’d talked about; they didn’t need to. It was written all over the way Nikolai’s hand was still on my lower back and the way I didn’t move an inch out of his orbit.

We sat back down at the table, and the room quickly slid back into motion. Ivan took the lead again, pulling up encrypted documents, voice resolute as he walked us through the early framework of the sting.

We talked logistics, how to bait Stillwell into showing his hand. The setup would involve a fake procurement deal traced through an offshore shell company that Ivan could spoof just well enough to pass inspection. A girl would be staged—of legal age, but young enough to look the part of a teenager. The meeting would be wired and recorded. Stillwell wouldn’t be able to run from it, not with the surveillance in place. Once the transaction was offered, once he said the wrong thing, we’d have what we needed to bury him.

The fallout would be immediate. The scandal alone would ruin him. The evidence would finish the job.

Charlie had contacts lined up: judges, journalists, political firepower. Ivan would track the digital trail. Mikhail would help coordinate the bait drop with some of his old connections in thetransport network. Sergei would provide muscle, off the radar, in the shadows but ready. I’d use Ghost to blast him all over the dark web.

When the final pieces fell into place, the last detail was mapped out and the timeline solidified, Nikolai stood.

“One more thing.”

No one moved as Nikolai reached for my hand.

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

It was that simple. No preamble, no ceremony, no explanation.

Aleksei blinked, then grinned like he wasn’t even surprised. Ivan muttered something under his breath in Russian. Maxim leaned back in his chair and nodded once, approving but enigmatic. Sergei didn’t react at all, but I felt the shift in his posture—tense and alert, but respectful.

And my father? He nodded, just once, the expression on his face a mixture of expectation and just a hint of regret.

Nikolai let the moment stretch just long enough, then spoke again. “Tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “You’ll be there.”

A chorus of quiet assent followed. Nods. The lifting of glasses. A few murmured toasts. It wasn’t a celebration so much as acknowledgment.Then Nikolai glanced at me.

“I’m going to take Sloane home with me now. We have a few things to take care of together, don’t we, my bride?” he said simply.

No one said anything, but I felt the blood rush to my face anyway.

My cheeks burned, my fingers curled against the edge of the table, and I looked down fast, so fast it almost felt like confession. The heat that bloomed across my skin had nothing to do with the room. My entire body pulsed, knowing exactly what he meant.

God, I hoped no one could tell. I didn’t lift my gaze. I didn’t dare.

Nikolai’s voice cut through the tension one last time, warm now, almost amused.

“I’ll look forward to seeing all of you at the ceremony.”