Page 42 of Crystal Veil (Rostov Bratva #2)
Dinner is fresh seafood, roasted vegetables, and coconut-laced rice served family-style.
The lobster is succulent, the scallops are perfectly seared, and the tropical fruits are sweet and refreshing.
There's no band, just a curated playlist Renat created himself.
I hear classical Russian pieces mixed with soft jazz, and even a few old Cuban ballads that make me think of my mother.
We dance barefoot on the sand beneath the stars, our bodies pressed together, our hearts finally at rest. Every time Renat looks at me, it's with wonder. As if he still can't believe I chose him, chose this life, and chose to bind my fate to his.
“How do you feel, Mrs. Rostov?” he murmurs against my ear as we sway to the music.
Mrs. Rostov. The name sends a thrill through me, and I can't help but smile. “Like I'm dreaming,” I admit, tilting my head back to look at him. “Like I'm going to wake up and find out this was all too good to be true.”
He spins me slowly, his hands steady on my waist. “This is real,” he assures me, his voice intense. “We're real. This love, this life we're building, it's all real.”
The night air is warm against my skin, and I can feel the gentle pressure of his hands through the lace of my dress. He's careful, tender, and aware of the precious life growing inside me.
“I love you,” I whisper, the words floating on the ocean breeze. “I love you so much it scares me sometimes.”
His hands tighten on my waist, and he leans down to press his forehead against mine. “I know,” he replies softly. “I feel it too. This intensity, this need to protect what we have. But you don't have to be afraid anymore, Elena. I'm here. I'm yours. Forever.”
The waves crash rhythmically against the shore, providing a natural soundtrack to our first dance as husband and wife. Other couples join us on the sand, and I watch Nick lead Amelia in a surprisingly graceful waltz, his weathered hands gentle as he guides her across the makeshift dance floor.
Viktor has somehow convinced one of the catering staff to dance with him, and she's laughing at something he's whispered in her ear. Even Artur has found a partner, though he looks uncomfortable in his formal attire.
“They're all here for you,” I observe, watching the men who have followed Renat from Russia and built new lives in Miami under his leadership. “They love you.”
“They respect me,” he corrects, but there's warmth in his voice. “But yes, I suppose love is part of it. We're family, bound by more than blood.”
The music shifts to something slower, more intimate, and Renat pulls me closer. I can feel the steady beat of his heart against my chest and smell the subtle cologne he wears mixed with the salt air. His hand finds the small of my back as he holds me.
“I have something for you,” he murmurs, reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a small velvet box.
“Renat, you already gave me the ring?—”
“This is different,” he interrupts, opening the box to reveal a delicate gold bracelet. “It was my mother's. The only thing of hers I managed to save before my stepmother burned everything.
The bracelet is beautiful, a thin chain with a single charm of a small Orthodox cross studded with tiny diamonds. It's elegant and meaningful, a connection to the woman who gave him life and loved him before she was taken away.
“I want you to have it,” he continues. “I want you to wear it and know that you're carrying her blessing with you. She would have loved you, Elena. She would have seen in you what I see. Your strength, compassion, and fire.”
Tears burn behind my eyes as he fastens the bracelet around my wrist. It's perfect, settling against my skin like it was made for me. Combined with my mother's locket, I feel surrounded by the love of the women who came before us, the mothers who shaped us into who we are.
“Thank you,” I whisper, touching the cross gently. “This means everything to me.”
He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to my palm. “You mean everything to me,” he replies. “You and—” He pauses, his hand moving to rest gently over my stomach. “Both of you.”
The gesture is so tender and protective that I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. No one else can see where his hand rests, hidden by the flowing fabric of my dress, but I feel the warmth of his palm through the lace.
“I can’t wait to see you in a bikini,” he murmurs. “Nothing sexier than my pregnant wife, half naked on the beach.”
Thinking of our honeymoon sends a warm flutter through me. Two weeks in a private villa on a secluded island, just the two of us and the vast ocean. No work, no chaos, no threats from rival families. Just us, learning to be husband and wife.
As the evening winds down, our guests begin to drift away, offering hugs and well-wishes before disappearing into the night. Amelia is the last to leave, squeezing me tightly and whispering promises to text me every day while I'm gone.
“Take care of her,” she tells Renat, her voice serious despite the champagne she's consumed. “She's my best friend, my sister. If anything happens to her?—”
“Nothing will happen to her,” he assures her. “I swear it on my life.”
Finally, we're alone on the beach, the reception area being quietly cleaned up by the staff. The chapel stands empty now, its purpose fulfilled, but somehow it seems even more beautiful in the moonlight.
“Come,” Renat murmurs, taking my hand. “Let's walk.”
We stroll along the water's edge, our feet leaving prints in the wet sand.
The moon is full, spilling a silver path across the waves.
They wash over our feet, cool and refreshing, and I close my eyes, committing the moment to memory.
When I open them again, he's watching me with such intensity that it makes me gasp
“I love you,” he whispers.
“I love you too. More than I ever thought possible.”
He kisses me, soft and sweet, a promise of all the tomorrows we'll share. When we finally part, he rests his forehead against mine, and we stand there in the moonlight, two souls who found their home in each other.