Page 27

Two months later

Valentina stared at herself in the mirror, fingers lightly brushing over the delicate fabric of her wedding gown. She had always imagined this day―dreamed of it in so many different ways―but never had she thought it would feel like this.

Completely and utterly safe.

The Nikolais had torn through the Irish mafia responsible for her and Irina’s kidnapping, ensuring not a single one remained standing. And yet, Aleksander, that devil’s spawn, was still out there. It was like he had vanished into thin air. But for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t worried.

Her family and the Nikolais had joined forces, a powerful, unstoppable force, and in the heart of it all was Ilya. Her soon-to-be-husband.

She brushed her fingers over her stomach. At two months, she had the cutest, tiniest bump, but it was barely noticeable beneath the dress. A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. When she turned, a smile tugged at her lips.

Lorenzo stood in the doorway, looking at her like he was seeing a ghost. His usual composed expression had cracked, his eyes suspiciously glassy.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, in a rough voice, he said, “You look beautiful.”

She swallowed. “Papa―”

“You look just like her.” His voice was soft, almost reverent. “Your mother.”

Valentina felt a lump rise in her throat as her fingers instinctively reached for the pendant around her neck. Her father rarely spoke about her mother. He rarely cried. The last time he had, she had been too young to fully understand the weight of his grief.

“I wish she were here to see this,” he murmured, stepping closer. “She would be so proud of you, Valentina.” He exhaled sharply, gathering himself. “I am proud of you. So are your siblings.”

Her heart squeezed. “Papa…”

He cupped her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “My strong, beautiful girl.”

She blinked rapidly, refusing to let tears fall and ruin her makeup. Instead, she gave him a watery smile. “You’re going to make me cry before I even walk down the aisle.”

He chuckled, stepping back. “I’ll leave you to collect yourself then.”

She nodded, watching as he exited the room. Once he was gone, she exhaled, placing a hand against her chest to steady herself.

Of course, she didn’t actually need time to “collect herself.”

She needed a moment alone because she and Ilya had a plan. They had never believed in that bad luck bullshit of the groom and the bride seeing before the wedding anyway.

A rustle near the window had her turning just in time to see a figure slip inside.

Her lips curved, her teeth grazing her bottom lip as she looked him over. “You know, doors exist for a reason, Ilya.”

He straightened, brushing invisible dust off his suit, looking every inch the powerful, devastatingly handsome man she was about to marry.

“Too many people at the door,” he murmured, his eyes raking over her, dark and hungry. “And I needed to see you.”

Valentina shivered under his gaze. “You’ll see me in about ten minutes at the altar.”

His lips curled as he stepped closer, his hands sliding over her waist, pulling her flush against him. “I couldn’t wait ten minutes.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “Fuck, you look stunning. You were right about the dress. I’m dead.”

She smirked as his hands toyed with his tie. “Not so bad yourself, Lyubimyy .”

His hands tightened, his breath fanning against her lips. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

Her heart clenched. “I love you.”

His gaze softened, something raw flashing in his eyes. “I love you too.”

Then he kissed her, slow and deep, fingers tangling into her styled hair, his body pressing her back against the vanity.

Her hands fisted in his suit, nails digging into the fabric as she gasped against his mouth, her breath warm, uneven. She nipped at his lower lip, dragging it between her teeth before releasing it with a smirk.

“You look so fucking good with a tie.”

Ilya’s hands were already on her, pushing her against the vanity as he worked the layers of her gown out of the way. “Oh yeah?” His voice lowered with intent. “What do you think of some good dick―I mean, luck―before we say our vows?”

A breathless laugh left her as she fumbled with his belt, her hands just as desperate as his. “We’re supposed to be walking down the aisle right now.”

“Then we better make it quick.”

His hands gripped her thighs and lifted her onto the vanity, slotting himself between her legs, his touch rough and claiming. His fingers slid beneath the lace of her panties, dragging them down her legs with a slow, deliberate pull.

“I should make you walk down the aisle like this,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. “No panties. Just my cum dripping down your thighs while everyone watches you try to keep it together.”

A sharp breath left her, arousal burning low in her stomach. “You wouldn’t.”

His smirk was dark, teasing. “Wouldn’t I?”

Her response turned into a moan as he gripped her hips and pulled her to the edge, one hand palming her breast through the lace of her gown, the other teasing between her legs.

“You’re already so wet for me, Printsessa .” His breath was hot against her throat as he kissed a line down to her collarbone, tongue flicking against her skin. “You like this, don’t you? Letting me fuck you in your wedding dress?”

She moaned as he filled her in one rough thrust, her hands flying to his shoulders. “God, I love it,” she admitted, breathless, her voice laced with pleasure.

Ilya groaned, his hands gripping her thighs, spreading her wider as he set a brutal pace. The vanity creaked beneath them, her dress bunched at her waist, her veil slipping as he fucked her with raw, relentless need.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice rough with possession as he bit into her neck, thrusting harder, faster. “My beautiful wife―all mine.”

Valentina clung to him, nails raking against his back, her lips parting as pleasure built to an unbearable high. “Yours,” she whispered, her walls stretching and fluttering around him, her body locking up as her orgasm exploded inside her. “Always.”

And when they both shattered, when pleasure crashed over them in waves so intense, she forgot everything but the feel of him, throbbing and milking her walls with his release, Ilya swallowed her moans with a deep, consuming kiss.

As their breathing slowed, he chuckled against her lips. “Best wedding gift ever.”

She huffed a breathless laugh. “Better than the cufflinks I got you?”

He smirked, pulling out and fixing his clothes. “By a fucking mile.”

Valentina smoothed out the wrinkles in her gown, adjusting the fabric while Ilya did what he could do to help―tugging her dress back into place, fixing the strands of hair that had slipped free. His fingers lingered at her jaw, tracing the flushed skin he’d just kissed senseless.

She met his gaze, eyes gleaming with mischief, and smirked. “Well, Husband, let’s get married.”

Ilya ran his thumb over her kiss-swollen lips, his grin slow and wicked. “Let’s.”

*****

THE END