Epilogue - Yefim

Six months later.

"That fucking idiot drives me crazy. It's like he wants to provoke me every chance he gets." I walk into Tia's office in a massive huff, frustrated again after a conversation with Giorgio Vitali.

Tia giggles, which doesn't help my mood, because I want to shout and vent.

"I told you to let me deal with him. You just don't know to talk to him. I think both of you provoke each other."

"I want to kill him." I nod in her direction, both of my brows raised high.

She stands up from her office chair and walks around her desk. Wrapping her arms around my waist, she looks up at me, her gorgeous eyes dragging me into them.

"You aren't allowed to," she says with a smile. "You know he's doing it on purpose though, right? He likes working you up into a mood. I think it makes him feel a little more powerful."

"Fuck, he's such an asshole."

"Well. Let me deal with him. At least pandering to an asshole is better than an all-out war. I just have to roll my eyes and be nice to him, make him think he has control—even when he doesn't."

"Mm. Is that how you deal with me as well? Make me think I'm the one in control in our marriage, when actually…?"

Tia starts giggling, and I run my hands over her ribs, tickling her, because I love the sound of her laughter and want to hear more of it.

She wiggles away from me. "You were never supposed to know about that," she grins.

I pull her back towards me, kissing her.

She steps away. "You are distracting me from my work, Mr. Dubrov," she says curtly.

"I'll get in trouble with the boss if I do that—oh wait, I am the boss."

I laugh, but I let her go, and she walks back to her desk to get stuck in the pile of binders sitting on it.

"We have a meeting with him this afternoon," I complain.

"I know. But if you just let me do the talking, like we agreed last time, I think it will go smoothly."

"Yeah, I will. Don't worry. I'm over him and his ego anyway. I don't know how you do it, honestly. If it wasn't for you, if it was just up to me and my brothers, this truce would have fallen apart a week after it started. You have so much patience, and you do know exactly how to talk to him."

She smiles at me. I can see she feels proud of herself, and she should. She's proven invaluable in every aspect of the business she becomes involved in.

And even more invaluable to my heart.

In my world, everything is violent. Men like Giorgio Vitali provoke others—bring out the worst in men. He incites madness and anger, and I don't think he has ever had a truce last this long without it turning dark.

For some reason, Tia has managed to keep both sides calm with her unique approach. I watch her talking to him sometimes and just marvel at her brilliance, her sharp and understanding mind.

She is beautiful and intelligent. And I am the luckiest man alive to be able to call her my wife.

"I'll leave you to it. But get it done by three, so I don't have to go to this stupid meeting alone," I say, tilting my head towards her.

"I would never do that to you, my love," she laughs.

I head back to my own office to finish the things I need to do for the afternoon.

***

At three o'clock, I sigh heavily, not looking forward to this at all.

Tia walks into my office, looking bright and cheerful. "Are you ready?"

"The driver is waiting downstairs," I mumble, clearly not happy about any of it.

She holds out her arm and wraps her fingers through mine when I get to her. Then we walk hand in hand through the building towards the parking lot, where the car is waiting.

Walking into meetings with Giorgio Vitali always gets my hackles up. The hairs stand on the back of my neck, and I feel the reassuring weight of my Glock in my belt beneath my jacket.

Tia squeezes my hand, knowing how I feel.

She smiles broadly and steps directly up to Giorgio with her hand held out.

"Giorgio, it's so good to see you today," she says confidently.

He shakes her hand, smiling. Despite his constant aggravation and all the frustration he likes to cause for the rest of us, I think he has a soft spot for Tia.

Who wouldn't? She's brilliant. She knows how to deal with people. Even difficult assholes like him.

He turns to me and greets me with one nod. "Yefim," he says, toneless and cold.

Tia pulls out a chair at the coffee shop we choose for every meeting. It's on the border between both of our territories and keeps us both safe.

She sits down. "So, you wanted to discuss the overlapping shipping lanes?" she asks, sounding like she's discussing her favorite flavor of ice-cream with her best friend.

"Yes, it's causing problems for me."

"What problems? I'm sure we can find a solution."

He shrugs. It's clear there are no problems. He just likes to complain.

Tia works around the conversation with expert care, listening, being attentive, giving him what he wants without giving him anything at all.

By the time we all finish our coffee, his concerns are resolved.

I haven't said a word apart from greeting the man. She's right. She's always right. If I just let her do the talking in these meetings, things go smoothly.

We stand up and say goodbye politely. Giorgio shakes Tia's hand, and then to my surprise, he holds his hand towards me to shake mine as well.

I shake his, laughing inwardly because Tia is so fucking good at this.

We walk out of the coffee shop, and as soon as we are in the car, she starts laughing. The driver revs the engine as he pulls out onto the road.

"We made it out of another meeting with that idiot alive," she grins, joking, but not joking.

"It's cause for celebration don't you think?" I ask, pulling her against my side.

"I think we need fancy champagne—somewhere I can dance a little."

"Driver, take us to the Silver Fox Club in town."

"Yes, sir," he confirms.

***

The bouncer lets us in as soon as he sees us. We never have to stand in line in this city. We walk straight through to the VIP section, where I've already booked us a table so we can dance together without being pushed around in the crowd below.

At the table are two bottles of champagne, sitting on ice, waiting for us.

"Two." She grins. "You are trying to get lucky tonight, aren't you?"

"I didn't know I needed champagne for that." I pull her against me, and we sway in time to the heavy bass pulsing from the speakers beneath us. The floor vibrates, and the energy of the club soon dissolves all memories of work and meetings and rivals and contracts.

All that matters now is Tia, in my arms, dancing with me.

As she moves against me, driving me crazy with each sway of her hips, twist of her body, each time she brushes over me, I think to myself, in all the world, in all the places, of all the people—I was lucky enough to find her.

Every day since I first laid eyes on her I have been grateful for that. I think about it often, and it brings a smile to my lips.

This beautiful girl. She belongs to me.

She is my wife and I get to keep her forever.

We dance for hours, drinking champagne, laughing and enjoying our time together. It's amazing how whenever I'm with her, no one else exists, and when I'm not with her, all I think about is the next time I get to see her.

My world will never be the same again, and it's the best thing ever.

"I love you, Tia," I say, loudly so that she can hear me over the music.

She laughs. "I love you more," she shouts back.

"I can't handle this anymore," I grin.

"What?"

"The way you're moving. I have to take you home. It's that or I am going to do indecent things to you on the couch in the VIP section and they might never let us in here again."

"Oh, thank goodness," she says with relief. "I was struggling with the same thing. Please take me home, right now. I need you."

The champagne has tinted her cheeks pink. She's always a little bit wilder after drinking—especially champagne. It brings her out her naughty side.

We both push through the crowds, Tia right behind me, up against my back as we leave the club, eager to get home.

Climbing into the back of the car, I realize I can't make it home.

The driver has the divider closed, and we have complete privacy in the back of the car.

I grin at Tia, and she knows exactly what I'm thinking.

She shifts her body, climbing into my lap, pulling her skirt up. She starts slowly dancing on my lap.

A low, dangerous growl escapes my lips.

"Baby girl, you're asking for trouble if you move on me like that."

"I want trouble," she whispers.

I grab her hips and push myself up against her, roughly.

She giggles, then leans close to kiss me. Once our lips lock, there are no more jokes, no more teasing remarks—it's just heated, unrestrained passion.

She's tearing my pants off while I pull at her dress. The seams rip and her breasts fall free. I run my tongue over them, tilting her body back as she moans and rocks against my cock.

I let her up and push her face down on the car seat. She arches her back, lifting her pussy up towards me.

"Mm," I growl. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And you belong to me, baby girl."

She whimpers as I push my cock against her pussy.

"Tell me what you want," I demand.

"I want you to fuck me."

"Say it again."

"Please fuck me. I need you so badly."

I thrust my cock into her pussy, and she cries out with pleasure.

Her fingers are gripping the leather of the seat so tightly it looks like she's going to tear it apart. I fuck her harder, pushing deeper and enjoying every inch of her body. I grab her hips and hold her steady as I move faster and faster until both of us can barely breathe.

Tia starts moaning so loudly that I know there is no way the driver can't hear us. And I don't care.

I can't stop now.

I push into her, and my cock is sucked in by her pussy as her legs begin to shake, her body shuddering in my hands.

An orgasm slams into her like a tidal wave, washing over her. Pulse by pulse, her pussy throbs on my cock, and I explode. Pleasure erupts from me, my head spinning with delight.

She giggles when I pull out of her. We hurry to get dressed again, because we are almost home. But her dress is torn.

She bites her lip and blushes as she looks at me.

I pull my jacket over her shoulders and hold her close.

"You're perfect, Tia Dubrov," I laugh.

"I'm not done with you." She grins as she leans against me, the car pulling into the driveway of our home.

"Good. I was hoping you'd say that."

We climb out the car, and Tia squeals with laughter as I lift her up and throw her over my shoulder.

I carry her straight to our bedroom because I want more of her. I want all of her. She makes me feel whole. She makes my entire life mean something.

I love her with all my heart.

*****

THE END