Page 103 of Konstantin

“My girls.” I pull them both into a quick embrace.

They used to live under my roof, but everything changed when Dinara married Cillian and Tatiana decided to live on her own, which has been good for her.

“It’s nice to see you too,” Tatiana says warmly, while Dinara fixes me with a glare.

“A phone call would’ve been nice to let your family know you were getting hitched.”

“She’s not wrong,” Kirill chimes in from behind us. “We didn’t even know until after.”

“It all happened fast,” I say, brushing it off. “But let’s not dwell on the past. Go and enjoy yourselves.”

Dinara’s eyes narrow. “I know you’re just trying to get rid of us.”

“Can you blame him?” Cillian scoffs.

“Never thoughtyou’dever defend him.” Fionn laughs.

“Me either.” I grin. “But I told you one day we’d become good friends, Cillian. And look at us now.”

I slap him on the back, earning a scowl.

“Too much?” A smirk settles on my face.

“Yeah, a little,” he mutters.

“Alright, alright,” I chuckle. “I’ll learn to keep my excitement to myself next time.”

“All jokes aside…” Iseult says, her smirk softening just enough to pass for sincerity. “I think I speak for all of us when I say we’re happy for you, Konstantin.”

I incline my head. “Spasebo.”Thank you.

“But…” She tilts hers, one brow lifting. “I do wonder…”

“Wonder what?”

Her eyes gleam. “How much did you have to pay the poor woman to get her to say yes?”

Before I can fire back, Fionn cuts in with a grin. “Please. He didn’t pay her. She was thrilled to marry him…right after he put a gun to her head.”

A few laughs ripple through the group.

“That’s notexactlywhat happened.”

Cillian snickers. “Which part? The gun or the marriage?”

“Well…” I shrug. “Let’s just say the courtship was…persuasive.”

Tatiana shakes her head, laughing. “You’re lucky she hasn’t stabbed you in your sleep yet.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” My mouth tips up.

That earns another round of laughter.

But it all fades, every sound melting into background noise as something inside me shifts. I feel her before I see her. As if some invisible thread pulls my gaze toward the stairs.

And there she is. Standing at the top, haloed by soft, golden light, wearing a white gown of silk and lace that hugs her body like it was made just for her. Those luscious waves are half-pinned, dark curls cascading down one shoulder, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. She doesn’t look like she belongs here, yet she owns the space, casting everyone else into shadow.

But it’s her eyes that tear me wide open, that burning gaze cutting through me like it’s carving something deep into my soul. I can feel the weight of her stare, like she’s searching for something—some hidden part of me I’ve buried. And in this instant, I feel exposed.