68
CORA
TWO MONTHS LATER
I’m trembling so hard I can’t even scratch my face without almost poking an eye out.
“Stop doing that!” Jordan grabs my hands and pins them to my sides. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”
“My makeup is already ruined.”
I’ve been crying on and off all morning.
When I unzipped the garment bag that held my dress: tears.
When Jorden and Anya came out in their bridesmaids dresses: tears.
When I asked for a latte and Yasha brought me decaf because “you do not need the extra energy. You’re about to buzz out of your skin”: tears.
In my defense, I was so nervous last night that I couldn’t sleep. I’m exhausted and anxious and—
“I don’t know if I can do this.” It’s the first time I’ve let myself say the words out loud.
Jorden frowns but, with her smokey eyeshadow and bronzer, it looks like she’s posing for a magazine. “Can’t do what? Scratch your eye?”
“Get married!” I blurt. I spin away from her and immediately trip on the train of my dress. It takes me a second to extricate my heel from the lace and stand tall again.
When I do, Jorden is gaping at me. I wonder what lipstick she’s wearing. It’s flawless. “You don’t want to marry Ivan?”
“What? Yes! I mean—No. Er, I do want to marry him. Of course I do! I love him.”
She presses a hand to her chest. “Oh, thank God. I would not want to be the person who had to deliver that news to Mr. Tall, Dark, and Felonious.”
“I want to marry him; I just don’t know if I can. I mean, I can’t walk in this dress. It’s only been an hour and I’ve already smudged my lipstick, cracked a nail, and lost a pin in my hair. I’m just not made for all of this.” I pick up the layers of intricately embroidered lace that cinch around my waist and fall to the floor in delicate ripples. “I’m not a princess.”
“Uh, yeah, you are. You’re as close as most people are ever gonna get, anyway. Plus, you picked all of this—the dress, the hair, the makeup. Ivan told you he’d get married in the kitchen with Niles as officiant if you wanted.”
“Maybe I should have taken him up on that,” I mutter.
A small ceremony would’ve meant fewer witnesses when I inevitably faceplant in the aisle or recite my vows with lipstick on my teeth.
Jorden steps in front of me and grabs me by the shoulders. “Let’s break it down. Question one: do you love him?”
That’s an easy one. “Of course I do. More than anything.”
“Excellent.” She smiles. “Question two: are you sure you want to marry him?”
That’s a slam dunk, too. “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”
“Then, girl—” She spins me towards the full length mirror behind me, her head peeking over my shoulder— “stop freaking out and enjoy what should be the best damn day of your life.”
All at once, the fears and worries fall away.
Maybe I will land on my face in front of everyone. Maybe all of my nails will chip and I’ll lose an eyelash and my dress will get stuck in a door. As long as I end the day married to the man I love, nothing else matters.
Suddenly, Jorden pecks my cheek and whispers in my ear, “I’m going to make myself scarce. I’ll be back before the ceremony.”
I frown. “What? Why? Where are you—”
But she is already hustling away… past Ivan, who is standing in the doorway.
Jorden ducks out behind him without a peep. I’ve never loved her more.
“You aren’t supposed to see me in my wedding dress,” I protest weakly.
Somehow, Ivan looks at me even harder. His eyes are shining as he traces every line of me. Is it suddenly extremely hot in here or is it just me?
“We were engaged before we even started dating. It’s in our nature to do things a little backwards.” He arches a brow and stalks towards me slowly. His smell invades the room ahead of him. I inch backwards before I bump into the vanity and almost scream at the unexpected contact.
“Like, maybe we should have cake and then say our vows?” I suggest.
“No,” he growls. “Not like that at all.” He unbuttons his jacket and drapes it on the arm of a chair. There’s a lot of talk about men in suits, but I don’t think we’ve given proper consideration to men working their way out of suits. He undoes the cufflinks and drops them to the floor with a clink-clink.
I recognize the heat in Ivan’s eyes. I’ve seen it more than enough times to know where this is going. I may have been nervous about the wedding all day—but this? I don’t have any doubts about how to do this. We’ve known how to do this since before we even knew each other’s names.
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “Then what?”
Ivan slips his bow tie off and drops it in the trail of clothes he’s shedding. Little by little, he’s going from billionaire boss to dangerous don. Tattoos reveal themselves. Muscles. Harshness and sexy brutality in the slope of his lips and the flame in his eyes. “I think you have an idea already of where I’m going with this, solnishka.”
He’s only a foot away from me now and he’s right—I do know. I also know that I can’t stop myself. I reach out and undo the top button of his shirt. He’s still playing the game, but I can’t wait. I know where this is headed and I want to get there.
Now.
“Ah, now, you’re getting it,” he breathes. He takes the final step and his hips arch forward to come rest against mine. I hate every layer of lace keeping us apart.
I undo the final button and then stroke my hands up the hard plane of his bared stomach. His skin is tan and warm and I want to drown in the woodsy smell of him.
It doesn’t help that I hear the voice of tradition screaming in my ear. The groom seeing the bride before the ceremony? Wrong. Ivan being here with the door closed and that look in his eyes? Very, very wrong.
Too bad that only makes it all that much hotter.
“Jorden will kill me if I ruin my makeup.” It’s true, but I don’t care. A second ago, I was worried about lipstick on my teeth, but now? I’ll walk out there with wild sex hair, smeared lipstick, and a wrinkled dress if it means I get him. Hell, I’d tap-dance down the aisle naked for one single kiss. One single touch.
Ivan tips my chin up and leans close. Not quite all the way, but almost there. I stretch onto my toes, lips already parted. Kiss me. Ruin my makeup. Destroy me.
“No,” he sighs again mournfully. “Not like that. Like this.”
With a sudden blur of motion, he puts his palms on my hips and whips me around until my back is to his front and we’re both facing the mirror.
His breath is hot in my ear. “I want to watch you fall the fuck apart when I make you mine.”
He undoes the buttons at the back of the bodice and roughly peels the dress down my torso until it’s a puddle of white at my feet. I love how he hisses, how his face contorts when he sees the bridal lingerie I’m wearing beneath.
It was supposed to be a surprise for tonight. Whoops. I guess Christmas came a little early for Mr. Pushkin.
I catch his reflection behind me—his dress shirt open over his bare chest, his eyes dark with need. I’ve never wanted anything more.
“We… we have to walk out of this room right now,” I argue in a limp croak. “Because I think I’ll die if I don’t get to marry you today.”
“Oh no,” he breathes, pushing my panties to the side and stroking a finger over my aching pussy. “We can’t have that.”
My whole body trembles at just this little touch. I reach back and hook my hand around his neck. “Then—oh, fuck me, just hurry up. I’m dying here.”
He smiles and unbuttons his pants. When he presses his dick against my opening, his fingers dig into my hips. I arch my back and all it takes is one shift for him to slide home inside of me.
Then Ivan’s lips are back against my ear. “You can forget all about walking out of here. When I’m done with you, you won’t even be able to stand.”
Ivan drives deep into me at the same time his fingers circle my center. Fireworks explode behind my eyes. I’d collapse in a heap on the floor if he wasn’t holding me upright with a hand on my hip and another at my throat. I can see the lines of desire stretching my face in the mirror.
My parted lips matching his.
Those eyes, amber and bright.
He strokes into me slowly. Lingers for a moment. Then he draws out almost entirely before starting all over again.
It’s painful how slow he’s taking this. Straight-up torture. He knows what he’s doing, too. Every time he thinks my eyes are fluttering closed, he lets his smirk tip up just a bit more.
“Oh my God, Ivan,” I cry out. My hands press against the glass. “There. Right there.”
I clench around him as I come. Ivan’s breathing picks up, but he doesn’t join me. His hands just tighten around my waist, dragging me against him as the orgasm wrings me dry.
“Come with me,” I plead between moans. “Come.”
But instead of moving faster, Ivan slows. He eases farther and farther back until he lets go of my waist and steps away entirely.
I’m still panting when I catch his eyes in the mirror. “Wh-what are you doing?”
“Walk to me.”
“What are you—?”
“Walk.”
My insides are still pulsing softly, coming down from his touch. But I stand up and walk towards him.
My legs shake, but I place one foot in front of the other. I feel like a newborn giraffe, but Ivan’s looking at me like I’m the sexiest thing he’s ever seen.
My orgasm is still ebbing away, but I already want more. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of him.
When I reach him, I reach out to balance against his chest. “What was that for?”
“I’m checking to see if I’m done with you yet.” He kisses my cheek and my neck. Then he dips lower, flicking his tongue over my lace-covered nipple. He drops to his knees and kisses each of my hip bones and the soft spot low in my belly.
It’s like worship the way he touches me. Like every inch of me needs his full attention. Like he’d spend a fucking lifetime kissing his way up the stretch of skin between my knee and hip.
I stroke my fingers through his hair. Partly because I want to touch him, but mostly because I might fall over if I don’t hold onto something. “And? What’s the verdict?”
He looks up at me from where he’s kneeling. His lips are tipped into a smile I want to taste. “You can still walk. So I’d say the job’s not quite finished.”
That’s all he says before that smile slips between my legs. At first, I half-scream like he’s branding me when his lips tug at my clit. Then, quickly, the heat digs deep and settles. I curl my hand around his neck and pull him closer.
If this is what it feels like to burn, I never want to be put out.
His tongue pulses into me while he circles his thumb over my clit. As heat unfurls inside of me, I stumble back. The world is tipping and I can’t stand upright.
Right on cue, Ivan stands, sweeps me right off my unsteady feet, and lowers me to the floor in front of him. My legs drape over his shoulders as I clamp my thighs around his ears and grind against his mouth.
“Right there—Yes—I need—Want—” Nonsense words tumble out of me as the orgasm swells and then breaks. I fist my hand in his hair and scream to the ceiling.
Guests could be arriving downstairs right this second. Maybe they can hear me through the walls. But they could be standing in the doorway and I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
They’re here to witness our love, right?
Might as well give them something to witness.
I laugh in my head at the thought—that’s something Ivan would say.
My thighs shake and tremble as he lowers me gently to the carpet and crawls up the center of me. He presses kisses to my feverish skin as he goes.
“This is all mine,” he whispers, tasting my ribs and nipping at my collarbones. “Fuck the minister. Fuck the ceremony. You are already mine.”
Love swells in my chest. I follow a drop of sweat down his neck and over his muscled chest with my finger. “I’m pretty sure that’s blasphemy.”
“If this is blasphemy,” he whispers, “then send me straight to hell.”
He fills me completely in one stroke. I tuck my legs around his body and hold his head against my shoulder.
We slide together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s easy and slow and right.
I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Here. With him.
Pressure builds slowly. I scrape my nails down his back and whisper in his ear, “Please come inside me.”
This time, Ivan doesn’t argue. He spills into me with a groan and then stays there. We hold each other on the floor, letting our hearts ease back to a normal rhythm.
Finally, he lifts his head and kisses my chin. “Can you walk?”
“I can barely talk,” I correct. A smile I can’t contain spreads across my face as tears well in my eyes. “We really are doing things backwards, aren’t we?”
Ivan brushes a fallen tear from my face and shakes his head. “No. We’re doing things exactly right.”
* * *
Jorden takes one look at me as I walk down the stairs and shakes her head. “I don’t even know why I bothered.”
She’s not wrong.
I’m wrecked.
Fifteen minutes ago, I was naked and splayed open beneath Ivan. Now, I’m about to head down the aisle on legs that are still quivering from all of our scandalous pre-ceremony activities.
My updo has become a loose braid down my back and my eye makeup is a total loss. Jorden pulls out a makeup wipe and scrubs it away while cursing me and my husband-to-be under her breath for wasting all of her hard work. When she’s done, my face is pink and flushed, my lips are swollen, and the evidence of what Ivan and I did is still dripping down the insides of my legs.
But it all feels right.
Even the fact that when the double doors open and I head down the aisle, Ivan looks as good as ever. Not a hair out of place. The man is unrufflable.
From the outside, anyway. Only I know the truth.
I like that.
When he looks up at me, he’s seeing me in my lace lingerie and heels. He’s remembering the way I felt wrapped around him and dreaming about being back there again tonight.
I love being the only person who gets to see him fall apart. The only person who can bring him to his knees.
He smiles at me and the rest of the world falls away. The Bratva, our families, our friends—nothing else matters. The man I love is waiting for me. Why should I care about my ruined cat-eye?
“You look fucking incredible,” he whispers in my ear when I reach him.
I meet the minister’s eyes and then immediately look away. “Behave yourself.”
He looks me up and down. “Never.”
During the ceremony, I ignore the guests and the minister and the way Jorden and Yasha are blatantly ogling each other intensely enough to cause a scene. I ignore everything and everyone except the man in front of me.
It passes in a blur of tears and joy, capped off with a kiss that knocks me so thoroughly off my feet that Ivan has to scoop me into his arms and carry me down the aisle while our guests cheer.
He carries me straight through the house and out the double doors to the patio where our reception has been set up in the backyard.
String lights hang over the lawn and there is a stage with an orchestra playing music into the evening. It looks almost exactly like it did the first time I ever saw it.
Ivan and I cut our cake on the patio where he saved me from being assaulted by one of his guests all those months ago.
I point out the eerie full-circle feeling as Niles swoops in to finish cutting and serving cake to the guests. Ivan and I head to the dance floor for our first dance.
“Saved you?” He snorts. “You didn’t act like I ‘saved you’ at the time. I remember you not being very thankful at all.”
Our guests are in a wide circle around the lawn while cello music swells against the warm night. My dad is dabbing at his eyes with a white handkerchief. He’s been a blubbering mess all night. I guess I know where I get it from.
“It was only because I could have handled him on my own. That guy was a sloppy drunk. He was handsy, but I could have fought him off.”
“Thank God for that,” he breathes.
I frown. “Excuse me?”
“That sloppy drunk destroyed your dress. I have him to thank for finding you naked in my office.” Ivan’s amber eyes undress me, turning darker by the second. “It set a lot of things in motion.”
I roll my eyes even as a blush spreads over my skin. “Maybe you should have invited him here tonight. We have him to thank for our relationship.”
Ivan swirls me out and then back against his chest, holding me close. I’m not a good dancer, but Ivan is graceful enough for the both of us.
He presses his cheek to my temple, his words soft in my ear. “No. This is all us, Cora. You and me. We got ourselves here.”
I look over his shoulder at Jorden and Yasha standing shoulder to shoulder, smiling like two idiots in love. Anya and Lev are sharing a piece of cake, feeding each other little bites and laughing. Even Ivan’s dad looks marginally happy from his perch at the table in the far back corner. Boris Pushkin probably still doesn’t approve of me, but he’s smart enough to stay quiet about it.
Then there’s the gifts I saw on the gift table earlier. A card from Katerina without a return address. She’s on the other side of the world, single and happy. Even Konstantin sent a gift. Ivan told me it was his peace offering. The elder Sokolov knows Ivan killed Mikhail, but he also knows his son was a reckless asshole. Ivan didn’t have a choice.
All around us are the signs of a new beginning. A future we’ve carved out for ourselves.
I can’t wait another second to get started.
“You’re right.” My voice is shaking, but I power through. “We got ourselves here. All three of us, actually.”
Ivan spins us with ease, but I feel the moment he falters. His hand tightens around mine and he draws back to look down at me. I’ve never seen him so still.
“The three of us,” he repeats, taking in my fresh wave of tears and the smile I can’t bite back another second.
“We’re having a baby,” I blurt. “I’m pregnant.”
Ivan crushes me into a hug just as the song ends. The guests cheer, but they aren’t in on our little secret. It’s just for the two of us.
As the orchestra plays on, everyone shifts onto the dance floor. But Ivan drags me away in the other direction.
He hauls me by the hand upstairs, down the hall, and into his office. I can hear the hum of the party and see the glow of the lights through the French doors as my husband wraps my legs around his waist and presses me against the wall.
Unlike the first time, this isn’t a fantasy I accidentally let myself get lost in. Being with Ivan isn’t a break from reality that I will try to enjoy as long as I can before he is gone forever.
Ivan is my real life fairytale.
This is our happily ever after.