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Valentina felt like she was floating. No―soaring. All it took was one tilt, one shift overnight, and now she was in this surreal, dreamlike state where she wasn’t just marrying into the Nikolai family―she was marrying Ilya. And not out of duty or obligation like she had always dreaded growing up in the underworld, but because they loved each other. It was still sinking in.

She almost couldn’t believe it was real. She could barely believe it was actually happening. Even with the scene playing right in front of her: her two best friends, Rhiannon and Irina, sipping champagne as they browsed racks of wedding dresses, laughing together, teasing about her smitten she and Ilya were over each other.

But the evidence that it was real clung to her body like a second skin.

Valentina stepped out of the dressing room, hands smoothing down the silk of the gown, its fabric whispering over her curves. The dress was a masterpiece―elegant yet undeniably sensual, sure to drive Ilya insane like she wanted.

A sleek, ivory satin hugged her figure, the bodice molded to her like it was made for her alone. Delicate, off-the-shoulder straps draped over her arms, accentuating the graceful slope of her collarbones. The neckline was a perfect balance of daring and refined, dipping just enough to tease but not reveal too much. A high slit ran up her right leg, the slightest movement sending the fabric parting, hinting at the bare skin beneath.

The room fell silent for a moment before Rhiannon let out a breathy, “Holy shit.”

Irina pressed a hand to her chest. “You look like you belong on the cover of a magazine.”

“She doesn’t just look like it,” Rhiannon said, still staring at Valentina, her eyes now shining. “She does belong there.”

Valentina’s lips parted as she turned to face the mirror, her fingertips gliding down the smooth fabric once more. She had always imagined this moment, but she never thought she’d look this breathtaking. She barely recognized herself―not because of the dress, but because of the glow in her eyes, the softness in her expression.

“She’s glowing,” Rhiannon whispered to Irina, and Valentina caught both of them staring at her with a mixture of pride and awe.

Irina hiccupped a laugh. “I think I’m gonna cry.”

Valentina swallowed, heart thudding. This is real. She was going to marry Ilya. She was going to be a Nikolai. And for the first time, standing in a dress meant for the woman she was becoming, she realized she wasn’t afraid.

Rhiannon nudged Irina with her elbow, still staring at Valentina. “If you cry, she’s also going to cry.”

“I’m not,” Valentina choked out. But her eyelashes were already wet. “I swear it’s the hormones.”

“I was right then, wasn’t I?” Rhiannon smirked, even though her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “It was the fucked-so-good-I-can-have-his-babies kind of good.”

The moment shattered.

Irina let out a choked laugh while Valentina groaned, scowling even as laughter bubbled up in her throat.

“Rhiannon,” she scolded, dragging her knuckles over her damp eyes.

Irina, still giggling, wiped at her own tears. “I mean… she’s not wrong. You are having his baby.”

“Oh, fuck off, both of you.”

They only laughed harder, then stepped closer.

“On a more serious note,” Rhiannon murmured, clasping her hands together as she took in Valentina’s reflection, “you look like a queen.”

“More like a goddess,” Irina corrected, her smile warm as she slipped an arm around Valentina’s waist.

Rhiannon did the same, and before she knew it, they were wrapped in a tight, affectionate hug.

“My brother is going to lose his mind,” Irina added with a knowing grin.

Valentina’s heart squeezed at the thought of him. Her Ilya. She felt a fresh wave of emotion rise, laughter and tears tangling together as she tried to keep herself composed.

“It’s the damn hormones, I promise.”

Later, back at the estate, she found herself effortlessly blending into the Nikolai family life. It was as easy as reading the alphabet, because she was already so used to them. Except this time, there was a lot more teasing involved, especially from Kostya and Viktor. She helped Irina set the table, gossiped with Rhiannon about wedding details, and even sat with Nikolai matriarchs as they shared stories of their own marriages.

For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t just the daughter of Lorenzo Romano―she was Valentina, future Nikolai wife, soon-to-be mother, and part of something bigger.

And then, there was Ilya.

Valentina found him in the study later that evening, where he sat at his desk, sleeves rolled up, deep in thought. She thought he looked sexy like this, so serious and focused. Too bad she was about to ruin that because the moment he saw her, his expression softened.

She smirked. Perfect .

Without warning, she plopped herself into his lap, arms draped around his neck. His pen stilled against the paper, and she felt the slow rise and fall of his chest as he exhaled.

“Did you have fun today?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

She sighed dramatically, fingers toying with the buttons of his shirt. “Oh, you know. Just the usual. Champagne, expensive dresses, my best friends crying over how stunning I look.”

His lips curved against her skin, his nose grazing, breathing her in. “So, nothing new.”

“Exactly.”

He turned slightly, gripping her waist, pressing her closer to him. “Did you find the dress?”

“I did,” she said, eyes shining. “Not to brag, but you might actually die when you see me in it.”

He leaned in, brushing his nose along hers. “I die a little every time I look at you.”

She rolled her eyes, even though her cheeks warmed. “Who knew you were such a romantic?”

He smirked, kissing her cheek down to her jaw before grazing his teeth across her throat. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.”

Her fingers slid into his hair, playing with the strands at his nape. “I still can’t believe this is real,” she admitted, quieter now.

His brow lifted. “That we’re getting married?”

“That you love me.”

His grip on her waist tightened, and his expression shifted―softer, yet utterly sure. “I do,” he said, voice firm. “And I plan to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

Her heart squeezed, and she kissed him slowly, melting into him. When she pulled back, he tapped a finger against her temple.

“Come help me with something.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Is this a trap?”

He huffed a laugh. “Business.”

She made a face and tried to escape his grip. “I’m off the clock.”

“Too bad, Baby,” he said, standing effortlessly with her still in his arms before setting her down in his chair.

She arched a brow, and a smug grin appeared on her lips. “Oh, so I run things now?”

He smirked. “You want to?”

She bit her lip and shrugged. “I mean, I’d do a better job.”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he leaned against the desk. But as he explained the logistics of a new operation, she noticed something―he wasn’t just humoring her. He wanted her input. He valued it.

She listened intently, offering her thoughts, pointing out details he had already considered but liked hearing from her anyway. When they were done, she leaned back in the chair, watching him watch her.

“What?” she asked.

“I love that sharp little mind of yours,” he murmured, tugging her onto his lap again. His voice was low, sincere. “And I love you.”

She smiled, brushing her lips against his. Ever since he said those three words to her, he wouldn’t stop saying it. And she could never get tired of hearing it. “Then you’re going to love being married to me.”

His arms tightened around her. “I already do.”