Chapter 23: Beautiful Beast: Epilogue

One month later

The two-story modern white house looms before us, bathed in the soft glow of the sunset. My father-in-law’s home. I park the car in the empty spot next to the flower bed and turn off the engine.

“Remember what we agreed on,” Vasilisa says as she checks her makeup in the sun visor mirror. “You will not rile my dad up. He’s still mad at you for ‘stealing’ my wedding day. This will be our first . . . um, normal gathering with my family, so let’s keep it civil.”

“Sure.” I take the mascara tube from her hand and throw it onto the seat behind me.

“Hey! What—”

“I’ll behave. But I think I need some incentive.” I push my seat back, then wrap my hands around her tiny waist and lift her over the console and onto my lap.

“Rafael, we’re not having sex in my father’s driveway.”

“No?” I unfasten the first button of her silky blouse. “In case you forgot, my doctor said I’m still recovering. No stressful situations whatsoever are allowed. And one part of my anatomy feels rather stressed at the moment.” I push the sides of her blouse apart and nip her breast.

“We can work on calming your cock after dinner,” Vasilisa murmurs.

My hand trails down her ribcage, then lower, to cup her exposed pussy. Her satin panties were left discarded somewhere on my plane. Guiding my thumb between her slick folds, I find her sweet bud and start circling. A couple of light strokes at first, then I apply slightly more pressure before sliding my finger inside her heat.

“Changed your mind?” I keep teasing her clit with my thumb while listening to her soft little moans of pleasure.

“Yup,” Vasilisa chokes out, riding my finger and unzipping my pants.

I’m hard as a fucking rock, to the point of pain. I almost come when she wraps her hand around my cock to pull it out. The degree to which I’m obsessed with my wife is unparalleled. She only needs to touch me—or simply threaten to slice my throat—and I’m a goner.

Slipping my hands under her ass, I position her above my dick and start slowly lowering this incredible woman in my arms. My brain is fried before I’m even halfway inside her.

Two dark eyes bore into mine from between the long black strands covering her face. Piercing. A little feral. Mine.

It’s still somewhat unreal that I get to have her as my own.

“I’m not sure I can ever show you how much I love you, Vasilisa.”

“You already have, you lunatic,” she whispers, taking more of me inside. “Try pulling another stunt like that, and I swear I’ll strangle you to death.”

My cock twitches violently inside her pussy, and I barely contain my imminent orgasm. I thrust into her from below, filling her completely, and capture her lips with mine at the same time.

“I love you,” her lips say into mine. “So, so much.”

My heart swells and expands, feeling as if it’s suddenly too large for my chest. I cup Vasilisa’s face with my palm, soaking in the view of her, flushed and panting, as she rides me, chasing her pleasure with wild abandon.

This ecstasy is all I need to know the old shadows are gone. Those dark thoughts that used to plague me when I was a much younger man. There were dark moments through the years when I reflected on that moment at the mall. That minute just before the explosion.

I’m ashamed to admit it, even to myself, but more than once I’ve wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t been there. How would my life have turned out? What if I’d left before I saw the girl merrily running down that hall? Or if I did, but chose to remain in that stairwell. Those thoughts made me feel sick to my stomach, disgusted with myself. And still, they would surface on occasion. In moments of weakness. In moments of pain.

Now? Now I’m beating myself up over that scar on Vasilisa’s back. One damn shard that managed to get past me. That hurt her. That left a permanent mark. I should have shielded her better. That cut should have ended up on me, as well. Never her.

I’ve always hated my reflection in the mirror. That is until I realized the girl I saved was Vasilisa. Now, seeing myself, the only feeling I have is of relief. Because it was me who was injured, not her.

Was it destiny that I was there to save her? Was our fate sealed by my choice? Or did the unyielding kismet guide her skillfully to me all these years later?

Vasilisa tugs my hair as she arches her back, coming undone in my arms. I finally let go, filling her with my cum. Our labored breaths echo through the space around us. I gently caress my wife’s face. My beauty. In the arms of a beast.

“I think that fairy tales exist, after all, vespetta. And I believe, I owe you a present.”

“What are you talking about,” she pants. “What present?”

I smile. “A library.”

“We’re here!” I announce and, squeezing Rafael’s hand in mine, step into the entry hall.

My father approaches us, his face grim, suddenly stopping just an arm’s length away. His eyes slide over my visage—and I can’t help but wonder if my makeup is smudged—then drop to my blouse. I glance down and cringe. I seem to have missed one of the buttons. And my skirt is askew. Shit. I quickly adjust the hem, but there’s nothing I can do about the shirt. I’ll just have to play it cool and hope this dinner doesn’t end in bloodshed.

“Um . . . Hi, Dad,” I chirp, grinning widely.

A strange growling sound erupts from Roman Petrov’s throat, and I have no doubt we’ve just landed in the hot seat. Dad’s nostrils flare, and he turns his menacing glare on my husband. “You have a death wish, De Santi?”

I close my eyes and take a calming breath. If they start waving their guns and punching each other, I’m leaving.

“I see you’re still as dramatic as ever . . . Dad,” Rafael deadpans.

Oh God . . .

The look on my father’s face turns homicidal. He takes a step forward, nearly bumping Rafael’s chest. “You do not call me ‘Dad,’ you thieving motherfucker! I swear, I’m going to—”

“Yeah, I know. You’re going to kill me in a very unpleasant way.” Rafael moves past my father, tapping him on the shoulder as we pass. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

“You promised you’d behave,” I murmur as we head toward the dining room.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

Rafael’s lips curve into a devilish smirk. “No. Not even a little bit.”

“He’s still coming to terms with everything. Maybe if you would— Rafael!” I squeak, quickly pushing his hand away. He just squeezed my ass while my dad was watching!

“What?”

“Please, can we all put in a bit of effort, so this evening doesn’t unravel into a disaster, and actually have a good time?”

Rafael throws a glance over his shoulder. I follow his gaze and wince. My dad is still standing by the front door, his eyes wide like a maniac’s as he glares back at my husband.

“I’m already having a great time.” Rafael wraps his arm around my waist and lifts me to his chest. “And it’s only going to get better.”

His mouth slams against mine with such force that I shriek. Everything else becomes insignificant, as usual, when my husband kisses me. I wrap my legs around his waist and squeeze his neck, kissing him back as if there’s no tomorrow. Rafael keeps his hand on my chin, holding my head steady while ravishing my lips with his.

“Oh, there you are, lovebirds,” my mom chirps behind me. “The food is getting cold.”

I quickly break the kiss and practically slide down Rafael’s body.

“Um, hey, Mom. Yeah, we’re coming. But you may need to get Dad a tranquilizer.” I grab Rafael’s hand and drag him into the dining room.

Yulia is already seated at the table, fiddling with her phone. Aunt Angelina is sitting across from her.

“Where’s everyone else?” I ask, looking at the empty seats.

“Sergei will come shortly.” Angelina smiles. “He had to drop off a change of clothes for Alexei and Sasha. They’ve been arrested.”

“What?!”

“Police caught them street racing last night. They were driving way over the speed limit. Roman decided to leave them stewing in the precinct’s holding cells today, so they could learn their lesson. He’ll send the lawyer tomorrow to arrange bail.”

“Great.” I sigh and take a seat next to Yulia while Rafael takes the chair on my right.

Mom dances into the dining room with my dad on her heels. His face is still a mask of rage when he takes the seat at the head of the table.

“Did you hear the news?” Yulia pushes me with her elbow. “Dad agreed to me moving out. I’ve found an amazing studio in Hyde Park and—”

“Forget that studio,” Dad interrupts her. “Start looking for a two-bedroom apartment.”

“What?” she shrieks. “But I already put down the deposit. And why would I need two bedrooms?”

“The Ukrainian Mafia is trying to invade our turf. We’re going on high alert, so you’re getting a bodyguard until further notice.”

“Not happening!”

The dining room door flies open, hitting the wall.

“You won’t believe what Luca got me,” Uncle Sergei bellows as he steps inside the room and lays a huge semiautomatic rifle on the table, just next to the platter of pork chops. “What? No lamb today?”

“Get that thing away from the food!” Mom snaps.

“That thing is a KR-101X. A premium, civilian-legal, AK rifle. It’s the newest Kalashnikov, peeps,” he exclaims, visibly offended. “An exclusive, limited pre-production release, with side folding synthetic stock, a sixteen-point-five-inch barrel, and it takes magazine-fed chambered seven-six-two by thirty-nine caliber rounds.”

“It’s a five-five-six NATO,” Rafael comments as he reaches for the bowl of mashed potatoes.

“No, it’s not.” Sergei leans over and grabs the rifle, fumbling with the magazine. “Fuck me. It is.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” My dad slams his palm on the table, making the glasses and cutlery rattle. “Put the blasted thing away, Sergei! We’re eating!”

“Always a party pooper.” My uncle rolls his eyes. “At least Rafael here can appreciate high-quality firearms. De Santi, did you get a chance to try one out?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

Oh no. I put my hand on Rafael’s thigh under the table and squeeze. “Rafael, don’t!”

“A shipment for the Ministry of Defense somehow got misdirected and ended up in the Catania Port last week,” Rafael continues. “And magically, my name was on the shipment documents. Something must have gone wrong on their server.” He looks down at me, pride written all over his face. “Amazing work, baby.”

“You hacked the goddamn Italian Ministry of Defense for him?” Dad snarls, leaping out of his chair.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at my wife, Petrov!” Rafael roars back.

Ugh. I put my elbows on the table and bury my hands in my hair. The yelling match continues with my dad and husband exchanging curses and death threats. Over the noise, I can hear my mom instructing my aunt to remove the knives from the table. Uncle Sergei is on the phone with someone—probably Grandpa Felix—inquiring about the next arms shipment for the US DOD and the likelihood of having it intercepted.

“Is it always going to be like this?” I mumble.

“Probably.” Yulia shrugs, reaching for the salad. “I’m definitely marrying a dentist.”

A loud bang comes from the kitchen. Everyone stops shouting, snapping their heads toward the source.

“What was that?” someone asks, but the question gets lost in a cacophony of screams and clamor that explodes beyond the adjacent door.

“Um . . . Igor snuck away from the retirement home.” My mom smiles sheepishly while hiding the steak knife behind her back. “He’s trying out a bourbon shrimp flambé recipe, kotik.”

Smoke and the smell of something burning slowly permeate the room. The upgraded fire alarm that Dad had installed after the microwave incident starts blaring, and, a second later, water surges from the overhead sprinklers, soaking the food and everyone sitting at the table.

I push the wet strands of hair off my face and look at my husband. “Welcome to the family, baby.”

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