Page 40 of Crystal Veil (Rostov Bratva #2)
She dabs at her eyes with her tissue, laughing softly through her tears as the crowd smiles from witnessing genuine friendship.
Her radiant smile grows even brighter, and I can see in her face the girl who welcomed me into her home when we were children, who shared her family's stability and love when I needed it most.
“And finally—” I pause, finding Renat's face in the crowd, letting my gaze linger on the man who has become my everything.
The moment our eyes meet, the noise fades into background whispers.
The lights dim in my peripheral vision. It's just him and me, connected across the space between us by something stronger than gravity.
My future. My fire. My heart. “To the man who saw me at my most vulnerable and loved me anyway.
Thank you for standing beside me. For protecting me when I wouldn't protect myself.
For reminding me that even in the darkest places, there is still light.
And that sometimes, love doesn't save us, it makes us brave enough to save ourselves.”
I step down from the podium to a standing ovation that seems to last forever.
The applause follows me as I navigate the steps carefully, my gown flowing behind me like liquid fire.
Hands reach out to congratulate me as I make my way back to our table, but there's only one place I want to be.
Back in his arms, surrounded by the strength and warmth that has become my definition of home.
Later, on the balcony overlooking the estate, the night wraps around us like velvet, soft and warm and alive with possibility.
The breeze carries the scent of citrus and jasmine from the gardens, warm against my bare shoulders and gentle enough to lift the tendrils of hair that have escaped from my carefully styled updo.
My heels dangle from one hand, abandoned in favor of the simple pleasure of cool stone beneath my feet, and the award plaque rests against my hip, cradled like a promise of the future we're building together.
The balcony is quiet compared to the celebration in the ballroom, offering us privacy on a night that has been filled with crowds, cameras, and congratulations.
Renat leans beside me on the stone railing, his suit jacket unbuttoned and hanging open, revealing the black shirt that sits flawlessly against his frame.
One hand rests casually on my lower back, his touch warm and possessive.
The other hand holds a glass of champagne that has gone flat while we talk, forgotten in favor of more important things.
“You made them cry,” he murmurs, glancing sideways at me with eyes that hold all the pride and love I could ever want to see.
I laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside where joy has been building all evening. “Not you, though.”
“I don't cry,” he replies, his expression perfectly straight, the deadpan delivery making me smile even wider. “But you made my chest ache.”
The admission is small but significant, coming from a man who has spent his life controlling his emotions and hiding his vulnerabilities. It's his way of telling me that I moved him, that my words found their mark in the heart he keeps so carefully guarded.
“That's close enough,” I laugh, and turn to face him fully, the plaque forgotten as I focus entirely on this man who has become my everything.
He brushes a strand of hair from my cheek, his touch reverent and gentle, fingertips rough from years of power and survival but infinitely tender when they touch my skin.
His eyes search mine like he's still learning how to believe this is real, like he's afraid that if he blinks too hard or looks away too long, I might disappear like a dream.
“They looked at you like a queen,” he murmurs.
The observation makes my heart skip, not because of the comparison to royalty, but because of the way he sees me, the way he's always seen me. Even when I was scared and running, even when I was just a journalist with a dangerous story, he looked at me like I was something precious.
I step closer, closing the distance between us until I can feel the warmth radiating from his body and smell the subtle cologne that has become as familiar as my own heartbeat. I lay my palm over his heart, feeling the steady rhythm beneath the fabric of his shirt.
“And you looked at me like I was yours,” I whisper, the words saturated with all the love and certainty I feel in this moment.
“You are,” he responds without hesitation, his arms closing around me with a certainty that makes my bones melt.
“All of you. The fire. The fury. The words that cut like knives and heal like medicine.
You're mine, Elena. Not because I claimed you. But because you let me. Because you choose me every day, just like I choose you.”
I press a kiss to his jaw, slow and lingering, tasting the salt of his skin and the faint trace of champagne on his breath. His arms tighten around me, and I feel the last of the evening's tension leave my body, replaced by the peace that comes from being exactly where I belong.
“That's the only type of forever I'd ever want,” I whisper against his skin.
His arms close around me completely, and the city blurs in the background, becoming nothing more than a backdrop for this moment. The stories, the danger, the blood, and the betrayal are all behind us now, transformed into the foundation upon which we'll build something beautiful and lasting.
With the Miami night wrapped around us and the future stretching out before us like an unwritten story, I know that our greatest adventure is just beginning.