Chapter 25

Two Weeks Later

Iwait outside the ceremony room with a big smile as I study my reflection.

"You look so pretty," Drake says, standing at my side in his suit.

I look intensely at myself in the mirror, trying to see past the self-doubt, insecurities, and what Mikhail sees when he looks at me.

My hair is styled in loose curls that cascade down my back, framing my face in soft waves. The stylist pinned a few delicate white flowers in my hair. I can't help but smile at how the curls dance around my shoulders, adding a touch of glamour to the overall look.

My dress choice is a curve-hugging silhouette accentuating—I almost can't think of it, but it's what my man sees—my hourglass figure. The lace bodice hugs me in all the right places while the tulle skirt flows around my legs in delicate layers. The sweetheart neckline shows off just enough cleavage, I think. Honestly, it makes me feel sexy and confident.

Truthfully, even though this is a Vegas wedding, this is my fairy tale.

I take a deep breath, a smile tugging at my lips. It's as if I can see with my man's eyes momentarily. I see how the dress hugs my curves, enhancing my natural beauty. I can't help but admire the woman staring back at me in the mirror: beautiful, confident, and ready to walk down the aisle to the person I love most in the universe.

"Thank you," I whisper, getting choked up, but then I stick a big grin on my face. "You look like a proper little gentleman."

He smiles and takes my hand, then turns to the mirror. Drake squeezes my hand and says, "I'm so happy you're marrying Mikhail. We get to live with him now, right? We don't have to go back home?"

"You're never going to see Dad again," I say cautiously, sensing Drake wants to speak about this. We've been avoiding it for the last two weeks, living in the safe house, swimming in the nearby lake, walking through the woods, playing board games, pretending Vegas doesn't exist. Maybe now that we're back, Drake is ready to learn the truth.

Drake swallows, looking scared, then says quietly, "Mikhail … killed him, right?"

Hearing my little brother say this, especially when the wedding music starts, is like a punch to the gut. Then Drake gives my hand another squeeze and looks at me with a determined expression. "Dad used to take me into his office. He'd tell me I had to be like him. He'd tell me about some of the stuff he did. He showed me photos once." Drake's voice is haunted as the music rises. "Mikhail is a good person. Dad wasn't, was he?"

"No, Dad wasn't," I say, my voice cracking as tears slide down my cheeks.

Drake reaches up. "No crying, okay? Unless it's happy tears. Because let's be real, we're better being with Mikhail. He's a good guy."

"He's going to be your brother-in-law … right about now," I say when the doors open and the venue-appointed attendant offers me a small smile, waving a hand.

"I hold your arm like this, right?" Drake says, taking his job very seriously.

"Hey," I lean down, lowering my voice so only he can hear. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He throws his arms around me. "I'm better than that. I promise. I love you. I'm way happier, and now I'm Mikhail's brother? That's cool."

I laugh, and then Drake reaches up and takes my arm. He's the ring bearer, the best man, my maid of honor, and the guest of honor, too. We also have an adult witness provided by the venue. Of course, Drake's giving me away. His is the only opinion I ever cared about, anyway. If Drake's happy with Mikhail, nothing can stop us.

Walking through the doors, I see Mikhail standing at the altar. His wild hair is tied back, the sides freshly cut, his eyes glistening as he turns to me. Strolling, coding every second into my mind, I walk toward the love of my life.

"Did you do that just to rub it in Oleg's face?" I laugh as I kiss my man—my husband—again. We're still in the ceremony room, the heat of the marriage making me feel fused to him. I never thought I'd belong. I never thought I'd find a place, and now I can't imagine not fitting in.

Mikhail laughs, shoving me playfully. "I just wanted to give him the happy news."

"He will be happy," I reply, nodding. "It means there won't be a war, right?"

"No war," Mikhail says, hugging me closely. "No panic. No pain. Just us, Mila. Just the future. Just our love. I should call Dimitri. Speaking of the devil …"

Mikhail answers the phone, his voice bright and happy. "Hey, brother. I was just about to call. I've got some news." Mikhail says every word like it's a special secret just for me, his eyes never leaving me. We haven't stopped staring at each other since I began walking down the aisle.

"Oleg called," Dimitri says on loudspeaker. "He congratulated me."

"We eloped," Mikhail says, laughing in the happiest, most carefree way. It's a laugh that makes everything else feel like it's drifting into the meaningless past. Every before is before and doesn't matter. We don't even have to think about it if we don't want to—only the good bits. "We couldn't wait. We had to make it official. I thought I'd let him know."

"You and Mila," Dimitri says, and Mikhail raises his eyebrows at me as if to say, Is this guy serious?

Mikhail's laugh floods my heart and soul with so much love that I think I will burst. "Wasn't it obvious?"

In the background, Lia says, "For the record, yes." I smile, wondering if we'll become better friends now there isn't the whole Dimitri-marriage thing hanging between us.

Ania says. "Not to the Bratva king, though."

"I just … I thought you were too cold for that."

"We both were, brother," Mikhail says, his eyes glistening with intense emotion, fixated on me, the rest of the world melting away, even Drake on his game one row back, gun sounds coming from his headphones, so distant. "We both were. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some husbanding to do! Oh, I would say thank me later." He leans forward, kissing me on the forehead, his voice getting husky in that way I love so much. "But I didn't do this for you."

"Gross," Drake says from behind us when I lean in for a kiss, but I know he's smiling just from his tone.

"We should send him a selfie," Mikhail says with that impossible-to-erase smile on his lips.

He stands up and pulls me to my feet, sweeping me into his arms.

"You want in, kid?" Mikhail calls over to Drake. Drake always looks so happy when Mikhail calls him kid, but he beams even more when Mikhail says, "Or should I say bro now?"

Drake grins. "We'll get one after. That's a nice shot. Husband and wife!"

Mikhail smiles. "All right, bro, but you're in the next one, deal?"

"Deal," Drake says with a broader smile.

It's hard for me to pose for the photo for a moment. I'm too busy drinking in my husband with my eyes, savoring the happiness in his expression when he looks at my brother. Anybody could see how much they care for each other, the genuine emotion there.

Mikhail winks at me, then turns to the camera. We both have the biggest, cheesiest smiles on our faces. After sending the photo, Mikhail says, "Come on, bro, don't make me wrestle you for it."

Drake springs to his feet, grinning, putting his console down. That's a miracle in and of itself. Even though I've always found it challenging to get him to put it down, he wants to come out of his shell with Mikhail. My husband has that effect on people.

"Don't make me embarrass you on your wedding day, old man."

I've read the word guffaw before, but I don't think I've actually ever heard anybody do it. I hear it now, coming from my husband and me, laughing like we never have before. Mikhail hugs me tighter, and Drake beams at us. I know I'll understand how much light can come from dark places for the rest of my life.

I was pledged to his brother. He killed my father. We'll always be a part of the Bratva world. Yet we made it on our own terms. We found our special place—our cave. Mikhail leans down, kissing the tears from my cheeks.

"Happy tears?" Drake says.

"Happy tears," I reply, nuzzling closer to my husband.