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Maybe Ashley isn’t the only one playing hard to get, I think.
“The younger guys are hanging back to keep things running smoothly, but all of the older Vors will be there.”
Timofey raises his brows. “All of them?”
A knowing smile crosses Akim’s face. “A few will be arriving withverygenerous wedding gifts. It’s the start of what I expect to be a very long apology tour.”
Akim and Timofey seem to be speaking their own language, but I need it said plainly.
“So they all believe that Sergey is a traitorous piece of shit now?”
Akim snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”
“The DNA test proving Rodion was Sergey’s son helped a lot,” Timofey adds. “But convincing everyone he willingly worked with the Albanians to conspire against the Bratva was the last puzzle piece.”
I wrinkle my nose. “They’re okay with filicide, but working with the Albanians is where they draw the line? The Bratva life really is another world.”
“You’re not having second thoughts about marrying into it, are you?” Timofey is teasing, but there’s a subtle, underlying anxiety I’ve learned to pick up on. There’s a thread of truth beneath the question.
I stand up and wrap my arms around his waist. “Whatever world you’re living in, that’s where I want to be.”
Timofey brings my knuckles to his lips, pressing a long kiss there.
Ashley complains that we’re spoiling her appetite, but I barely hear her. My heart is beating too loud.
* * *
The kids are asleep and Ashley and Akim are hunched together watching some movie on her laptop. My heart is still racing.
Timofey is drawing circles on my thigh, his calloused finger smoothing new sensations into my skin while he reads.
We decided to wait until the wedding to have sex again. Given Samuil’s existence, everyone knows I’m no virgin. But I thought, since we already had to abstain for six weeks after Samuil was born, why not tack on two extra weeks?
“It will make it more exciting, won’t it?” I told him, a three-day-old baby laying on my chest.
What an idiot I was.
I’m not excited right now. I’m in agony.
Timofey is sitting next to me, all broad shoulders and muscular legs and chiseled jawbone, and we have hours to kill. Not to mention a full-sized bed and a couch in the private room two feet away.
Fantasies fill my mind as Timofey’s finger circles closer and closer to the inside of my leg. I try to bat them away, but why?
It’s my wedding day. If I want to get absolutely railed by my future husband before my wedding, why shouldn’t I? Everyone has told me repeatedly that this is my day, after all.
Before I can consider it anymore, I jump up.
Timofey’s hand falls away, and he glances up at me. Without a word, I grab his hand and walk into the aisle, pulling him with me.
“Why am I not surprised?” he chuckles, though I notice he doesn’t waste any time hurrying after me.
Samuil is asleep in his bassinet and Benjamin is asleep in the seat next to Ashley, his chubby fingers loosely wrapped around her index finger.
I have no regrets at all as I silently pull Timofey into the back room and close and lock the door.
Beyond the hum of the airplane, the room is silent. I lean back against the door and face Timofey. Some of my confidence fades in the face of how truly magnificent he is. Even in jeans and a plain long sleeved tee, he is devastating. How am I going to handle him in a tux? On an altar?
He smirks. “Did you wish to speak to me, Piper?”
