Chapter Sixteen

Penthouse suite, Berd”s Hotel, Dimitrie Cantemir Boulevard, Chi?in?u, Moldova...

“What a surprise, Mr. Guzun.” The concierge beamed at Arian, who quickly searched his memory banks since the young man looked familiar. Based on his reaction upon seeing Arian, they must’ve met before. It didn’t take long for him to find the door with the details of when this particular man had appeared in his life.

“Gregory Hamlin, how is your father?”

“You remembered! I didn’t think you would; it’s been over ten years, and our meeting was so brief,” Gregory dragged in a deep breath to calm his excitement. He was clearly in awe of the powerful man in front of him.

“Your father is a good man. If not for his quick action that day, I would’ve lost my prize bull.” Arian winked. “That monster is still around and strutting his stuff on the farm because of your father putting his own life in danger to cut him free from that barbed wire.”

“Dad told that story ‘til the day of his death two years ago. It was a proud day for him—saving the bull of the man who feeds the hungry all year round in our village.”

“It’s a small gesture,” Arian waved off the praise. “My condolences on his death. How long have you worked here?”

“Three years,” Gregory pushed out his chest. “It’s temporary while I study law. One more year and I’ll be a qualified solicitor.”

“Come and see me when that happens, Gregory. We’re always looking for young talent in our legal department at AVV Airpro.”

“Are you serious, Mr. Guzun?” Gregory’s face lit up like a flashlight in a pitch-black night.

“Of course, I am.”

“Wow, I can’t believe this,” he muttered but smiled widely. “I imagine you are here for Mrs. Guzun?”

“Indeed. Is she home?”

“She hardly ever goes out, so, yes. Shall I announce you?”

“I’d like to surprise her, if you don’t mind.” Arian plastered a sheepish look on his face. “It’s time this little tiff between us comes to an end.” He leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “To be honest, I’m a little nervous. Imagine that, right? The effect a little female could have on a big lug like me.”

Gregory laughed. “Indeed, sir. My girlfriend wraps me around her finger every day.” He gestured to the elevator on the left. “That one will take you directly up to the penthouse suite level. Good luck, Mr. Guzun.”

Arian nodded as the elevator doors closed behind him. It had come as a surprise to find Izolda staying in Moldova. He had thought she would have fled as far away from him as possible.

“Fuck, I’m not ready for this,” he muttered as the shudder of the cab indicated it was ascending. Their marriage never had a chance, especially once he found her on the phone talking to Sanders on their wedding day... right before Zafira was shot. It had been downhill from there. Maybe they might have been able to get past that... except for his actions weeks later...

The last straw for Izolda had been the night when he had cruelly fucked her in front of the mirror.

“Destul, I truly messed up that day.” He had also told her he had never loved her, that he had only married her to keep her close to find out who was the mastermind in the saga that had been unfolding at the time.

When he had returned from saving Vanya, she was gone. Guilt had kept him from looking for her. It’d been over a year since he had last seen her. That she was still close by filled him with a frisson of hope that perhaps she hadn’t come to hate him... much.

Worse, he couldn’t blame her if she did. He had treated her in the same callous, ruthless manner Boris Sidorov did—the one thing he had sworn he’d never do.

Still, the knock on the door was firm and confident. The Pakhan of the Guzun Bratva never showed weakness, not even when he felt more vulnerable than ever in his life.

“Give me thirty seconds, then come in,” Izolda shouted from inside the suite as the door clicked open. “I just got out of the shower. You can leave the tray on the kitchen counter.”

Arian allowed a minute before he entered. The penthouse’s sleek, modern design greeted him as he stepped inside—a sanctuary perched high above the bustling city below. The open floor plan flowed seamlessly from one area to the next, bathed in a soft palette of earthy tones and whites that lent an air of sophistication to the space.

Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched along one wall. Beyond the glass, the urban landscape sprawled out in a mesmerizing display of lights and shadows, a reminder of the world below.

“So serene,” he murmured as he stood in front of the window. “I wish my life could be like this.”

In the center of the room, a plush sectional sofa curved elegantly. Its neutral upholstery blended effortlessly with the surrounding décor, accented by throw pillows in muted tones of taupe and ivory.

Arian’s gaze swept across the room, taking in the carefully curated art adorning the walls, the sleek bar that gleamed with polished chrome and glass, and finally, the grand piano standing like a silent sentinel in the corner, its ebony finish contrasting with the lightness of the room. Arian knew Izolda loved playing and could envision the music filling the space, the melodies weaving through the air like whispers of secrets shared in confidence.

His wife had encased herself in a hotel that was more than just a living space—it was a home, a sanctuary, a retreat from the chaos of the world below. Arian turned to stare out to the city below, forcing himself to relax. A tranquility washed over him, a welcome respite from the tension his role as Pakhan of the Guzun Bratva had demanded from him over the past two years of fighting for survival.

“You’re not the server from the restaurant.”

Arian didn’t turn at the soft, melodious voice floating toward him.

“Indeed, I’m not.”

“What are you doing here, Arian?”

Arian’s eyes locked on the reflection of the woman in the tinted windows. His heart skipped a beat at the sound of her voice, a melody he hadn’t heard in far too long. His gaze remained on the reflection of Izolda standing behind him. She was a vision of elegance in her white silk dressing gown, her long blonde hair cascading in soft waves down her back.

For a moment, he simply drank in the sight of her, the memory of her beauty flooding back with an intensity that caught him off guard. He had missed her more than he cared to admit, the ache of her absence a constant companion in the midst of his chaotic world.

As he looked at her reflection in the window, he noticed the subtle tension in her posture, the way she nervously tugged at the knot around her waist. It was a familiar gesture, one that spoke volumes about her unease despite the calm fa?ade she presented.

“You are the last person I expected to see here,” she murmured in a voice barely above a whisper.

Their eyes met in the reflection, her expression unreadable. “And yet here I am,” he replied. The hint of sadness and regret that tinged his tone rang in his ears. His lips compressed, but he still didn’t move.

Arian felt a pang of guilt stab at his heart. At that moment, as he stood facing her, he couldn’t deny the rush of emotion that surged through him at the sight of her.

“Again...” Her voice was clipped this time, as if she wanted to run but couldn’t make her legs obey her brain. “What are you doing here, Arian?”

“I missed you.” The echo of the words spilling out before he could stop them mocked him. The way she startled in surprise pushed him to continue. “More than I thought possible.”

Finally turning to face her, he was relieved to notice Izolda’s expression softening at his words, and her eyes held a glimmer of warmth that stirred something deep within him. They stood silently, bathed in the soft glow of the city lights and in that moment, Arian knew that despite everything, he had finally found his way back to her.

Now, he had to convince her of his love and pray she could find it in her heart to forgive him and come back home.

“What about me do you miss, Arian? Oh, wait, I remember... it’s the convenient fuck holes that your conjugal rights give you to use when the need demands it.” Her eyes glimmered with painful remembrance. “Or is my recollection of events wrong?”

“Regret always comes too late, doesn’t it?” he murmured in a low voice. “I never apologized to you for that...” He grimaced. “Or for all the other fuck ups I played a part in that formed your life’s path.”

“You weren’t responsible for everything that went wrong in my life, Arian.”

“Wasn’t I?” He shrugged. “Maybe not directly, but everything that happened to you from the day you met me was because of our love for each other. Yes, I didn’t know why you married Boris, but it did break my heart. Of course, in true Arian Guzun fashion, I didn’t find you to talk about it. I turned my back on you. Over time, my feelings turned to hatred for Boris... for you, and that was what guided my actions toward you.

“I couldn’t accept that you hadn’t trusted me with what Boris threatened you with. That you believed me too weak to protect you and your parents. It hurt, Izolda... it showed you never trusted me—the one thing I gave you unconditionally all those years ago, and you threw it back in my face.”

“Arian, it was so much more complicated than that.”

“Was it?” Arian watched her unblinkingly for long moments. The deep sigh came from years of questioning himself, his actions, and his beliefs about why he hadn’t been good enough for her. Even though he now knew the truth, the pain he had carried all these years was still like a ghost roaming the devil’s realm, searching for a way out.

“I lied.”

“I know.” Izolda didn’t have to ask; they both knew what he was referring to.

“Then why did you leave?”

“Because you didn’t realize it then. That night... the way you forced yourself on me... I couldn’t stay because I knew eventually being treated like that would break me and kill any chance we had of ever finding our way back to each other.” She smiled at his expression. “It would have, Arian, because no matter how badly you treat me, the moment you touch me, I melt. I can never deny you, even the times I hate how cheap you made me feel. You are in my blood, my soul, and my heart. Why do you think I’m still here in Moldova?”

“Izolda...” Arian’s voice cracked as he walked closer. The shock in her eyes was profound as he knelt and took her hands in his. For the mighty Pakhan of the Guzun Bratva to be in such a subjugating position was something no one would believe. “I came here to beg for forgiveness, and here you are, making me feel ten feet tall. If anything, you should hate me and chase me out.”

“That was my initial intention until you turned around, and I saw the regret in your eyes, the warmth and the love begging to be set free.” She cupped his cheeks and leaned down to briefly kiss his lips. “I can never hate you, Arian. I love you. I always have, and God help me, I always will.”

“As I love you, my beautiful wife... and if you’d let me, I am going to take the rest of the night to prove it to you.”

“Demanding your conjugal rights again, Mr. Guzun?”

“No, my love... begging you to let me love you with my heart and soul, using my body as the conduit to portray all my regrets and future intentions.” Pressing his face into her soft belly, his arms circled her waist. “I love you, Izolda Guzun and I can’t go on without you in my life. Please, release me from the hell I’ve been living the past year with your absence.”

“Then show me, Arian... let’s open the gates of hell and release you from that prison into the light of love.”

Arian picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, his expression relaxed and unburdened for the first time in his adult life.

They quickly became lost in a mutual raw passion that was in complete contrast to the gentle touch of his hands and the promise of unbound pleasure in his eyes.

The world fell away as their bodies reunited in a blend of passion, desire, and unconditional love.

Afterward, their ragged breathing quieting down, Arian hugged her against his chest. With eyes closed, he held her, savoring her essence soaking through his skin.

Finally, he felt at peace. He was home.

Gently cupping her chin, he tilted her head back and kissed her in a meshing of warmth, passion, and need. The same bond they had formed the moment their eyes had met so many years ago.

“Thank you, my dearest wife, for setting me free. Now, our future can finally begin.”

Izolda returned his smile as she pressed her fingers against his chest, where his heart beat rapidly.

“Our future... I like the sound of that.”