Chapter 12

The wedding—if I can even call it that—wraps up in a cool ten minutes. It feels more like a business meeting that just happened to include exchanging rings. Ivan slips a simple gold band onto my finger, its weight foreign and oddly significant. In return, I slide the matching band onto his. He picked them both out, of course. Practical, no fuss.

When we say, ‘I do,’ the words echo in the courtroom, sounding too loud, too formal. Ivan presses his lips against mine, a chaste, brief contact that sends an unexpected shiver down my spine. It’s over before I fully register it, but the sensation lingers, a ghost of a touch that leaves me more confused about my feelings than ever.

As the judge pronounces us husband and wife, I can’t help but steal another glance at Ivan. He’s looking every bit the embodiment of a modern-day prince in his impeccably tailored suit. The fabric seems to cling to him in all the right places, accentuating his broad shoulders and the lean strength of his frame. The suit, a deep navy blue, makes him appear even more commanding and impossibly sexy.

As we step away from the judge’s bench, I turn to my new husband. ‘So what now?’ I ask, trying to keep my voice light, masking the whirlwind of thoughts in my head.

Ivan is all business, as usual. ‘I have a car waiting for us outside,’ he says.

‘A car? Are we going on a honeymoon, or do you have a meeting?’ The words slip out before I can stop them, my attempt at humor masking the surrealness of the situation.

As Barb and I say our farewells in the courthouse lobby, I can’t help but notice the concern etched on her face, her eyes reflecting both love and worry. She pulls me into a warm embrace, her arms wrapping around me with a motherly tenderness. “Julie, you can always come to me, anytime, day or night, if you need anything,” she whispers, her voice heavy. “You know that, right?”

I nod, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. “I know, Aunt Barb. Thank you,” I manage to say.

She then turns to Ivan, her gaze piercing, protective. “You better take good care of her, Ivan. She’s precious, and I’m entrusting her to you.”

Ivan meets her gaze steadily, a flicker of respect in his eyes. “I assure you, Barb, Julie will be well taken care of,” he says, his voice firm, leaving no room for doubt.

Barb studies him for a moment longer, as if weighing his words, then finally nods, seemingly satisfied with his promise. She turns back to me, kissing my cheeks softly. “Remember what I said, darling.”

As we part ways, Fyodor steps in with his easy charm and a smile that lightens the mood. “Welcome to the family, Julie,” he says, his voice warm and welcoming, though a hint of hesitation lingers beneath his cheerful demeanor.

He doesn’t seem entirely convinced about the nature of our union, but his friendly disposition is a stark contrast to Ivan’s more reserved manner. “Let me walk you to your car, Barb,” he offers, extending his arm to her in a gentlemanly gesture.

Once alone with Ivan, the air shifts. The presence of others had provided a buffer, a distraction from the reality of our situation. But now it’s just him and me, a husband and wife in the most unconventional sense.

As we reach the curb, a sleek car glides to a smooth stop in front of us. The driver, dressed in a crisp uniform, quickly hops out and opens the door with a practiced air of professionalism.

Stepping inside, I’m immediately struck by the lavish interior—a bottle of champagne along with two flutes are chilling in a silver bucket and a small charcuterie board arranged with an assortment of cheeses and meats sit beside it, all elegantly displayed. It’s all very Ivan; efficient luxury without a hint of ostentation.

Ivan follows, sliding into the seat opposite me with an ease that speaks of his familiarity with this kind of luxury. He reaches for the champagne bottle, his movements precise and practiced. With a deft flick of his wrist, he pops the cork, the sound cutting through the quiet of the car.

Pouring two glasses of the sparkling liquid, he hands one to me. Our fingers brush briefly, sending a jolt through me. It’s a simple touch, but in the confined space of the car, it feels intimate, charged. A reminder of the fire still blazing between us.

He raises his glass, clinking it gently against mine. ‘To our partnership,’ he says, his deep voice resonating in the small space.

His eyes lock onto mine as he takes a sip, and I feel an inexplicable pull, an observance that goes beyond the clink of our glasses. It’s unsettling and yet oddly thrilling at the same time. I want to gulp down the champagne, let the bubbles ease the bundle of nerves in my stomach, but I resist. I take a small, measured sip instead, trying to match his composure.

The taste is exquisite, a perfect blend of flavors that dances on my tongue, but it’s not enough to distract me from the man sitting across from me. The reality of our situation, the enormity of the decision I’ve made, starts to sink in.

Ivan’s unexpected question catches me off guard. ‘Which do you prefer, mountains or the beach?’ he asks, his tone casual, as if we’re just two acquaintances making small talk.

I can’t help but laugh. ‘That’s quite the icebreaker question,’ I say, amused by the sudden shift from formalities to something that feels more like a first date query.

He simply smiles, a rare expression that softens his usually stern features, and lifts an eyebrow in silent encouragement for me to answer.

‘Definitely the beach,’ I reply, still smiling. ‘There’s something about the sound of the waves and the feel of sand underfoot that’s relaxing.’

As I speak, Ivan pulls out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen. He seems absorbed in whatever he’s typing, but then he looks up, meeting my eyes with a gaze that’s both intense and unreadable.

‘What’s going on?’ I ask, curiosity piqued. It’s not like him to be distracted during a conversation, especially not on a day as significant as this one.

‘The company plane will be taking us to Bora Bora for the week,’ he says, as if announcing a routine business trip.

I blink, the words taking a moment to sink in. ‘Bora Bora? As in, the tropical paradise Bora Bora?’ My voice rises in disbelief. This isn’t just a getaway; it’s a full-blown honeymoon destination, one most people only dream about. Including me.

Ivan nods, a trace of something similar to satisfaction flickering in his eyes. ‘Yes, that Bora Bora. Consider it a celebration of our new partnership.’

The car suddenly feels like it’s spinning, even though we’re moving in a perfectly straight line. Bora Bora. I’ve only seen in it travel magazines or on the Travel channel, a dream destination for a honeymoon I never imagined I’d have, especially not like this.

My mind races, trying to process this new development. It’s a chance to escape, to breathe in new air and maybe to better understand this complex man sitting across from me.

‘Wow, Ivan, that’s incredibly generous,’ I manage, still reeling from the surprise. ‘I don’t even know what to say.’

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ he replies, his voice steady.

As I sit back, sipping my bubbly, the reality of it all begins to settle in.

I’m going to Bora Bora with Ivan Stepanov.

My boss.

My husband.

The thought sends a thrill of excitement mixed with a twinge of apprehension through me. This trip, this unexpected honeymoon, could be the start of something new, something I hadn’t dared to ever hope for.