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Valentina smiles, her eyes soft but filled with a fire that I've come to love, to cherish. "More than close enough," she says softly. "Yes, Roman, a thousand times yes."
The moment our lips meet, the world dissolves around us. It's just Valentina and me, locked in an intimate bubble I never want to burst. As she starts unbuttoning my shirt, her touch sparks a fire in me that's impossible to put out. I reciprocate, letting her shirt slide off to join mine on the floor.
Damn, she's beautiful—like something out of a dream. Her skin, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight streaming in through the window, is a canvas that draws me in. And it's not just the allure of her body; it's the magnetic pull of who she is—her vulnerability matched with an unbreakable strength. I can't resist; I move to lay above her.
Her touch guides me, but it's more than physical guidance; it's as if she's guiding my very soul. My fingertips on her skin send electricity coursing through me, jolting me awake in ways I never thought possible. When her legs wrap around me, drawing me closer, pulling me inside, it's like she's pulling all the fragmented pieces of me back together, making me whole.
With every ounce of honesty in me, I whisper, "I love you, Valentina."
My soul feels lighter, like a weight has lifted. This love, this connection—it's something I'm willing to fight for. Whatever battles await us, whatever challenges are thrown our way, I know we'll face them as a united front. In the stillness of this intimate night, I'm more certain of this than anything I've ever known. She's my sanctuary in a life of chaos, and I'll do whatever it takes to protect that.
We move together in perfect harmony and let go together as well, riding the high of our love.
Lying there beside her, our breaths slowing in unison, I marvel at the serendipity of it all. From the chaos and violence that colored both our pasts, we've stumbled into this surreal reality.
"Can you believe this?" I say, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face. "It's like life decided to give us a break—a really, really good break."
She chuckles softly, her eyes dancing. "You're telling me. A few months ago, the idea of peace was just a distant concept. And now, it's a reality. With you."
I pull her closer, my arm wrapped around her waist, as if by holding her tight, I could anchor us to this beautiful moment. "I keep thinking about our future, you know? This is just the beginning for us. There's so much more out there for us to explore together—a lifetime's worth."
"Yeah, and not just the two of us," she adds, a gleam of joy lighting up her eyes. "We're going to be parents, Roman. Can you imagine?"
A sense of awe washes over me. Parents. The word carries so much weight, so much responsibility, yet I find myself excited rather than overwhelmed. "I can imagine, and it's incredible. When I think of you as the mother of my child, I swear, my heart feels like it's going to explode with happiness."
Her fingers trace the tattoo on my arm as she speaks, "And you, as the father of our child? I can't think of anyone more protective, more dedicated."
The room falls silent, but it's the kind of silence that speaks volumes—the kind that's comfortable, reassuring, full of promise. My fingers find hers, our hands interlocking, and it strikes me how perfectly they fit. Like two pieces of a puzzle finally clicking into place.
"I love you, Valentina," I murmur, my eyes never leaving hers.
"I love you too, Roman," she replies, her voice tinged with an emotion so pure, so true it makes my chest tighten.
As I draw her in for another tender kiss, I know these three words, simple as they may be, carry the weight of our entire future—a future that, for the first time in both our lives, looks infinitely bright. And as her lips meet mine, sealing our fates together, I make myself a silent promise.
No matter what comes our way, I will love this woman—this extraordinary woman—for all the days of my life.
Chapter 35
Roman
Three months have passed like the snap of fingers, yet they've been the most transformative of my life. The streets of St. Petersburg, once a battleground, have quieted under the grip of the Antonov-Nicolaevich Bratva. I survey the skyline from my office, the city stretching out as if it's bowing in submission. We've taken over the territory that was once a constant threat, and peace isn't just a theoretical concept anymore; it's the state of things.
My phone buzzes on the desk, breaking my reverie.
"Hey, little brother," Andrei greets as I pick up. "How are things on your end?"
"Stable," I reply, leaning back in my chair. "Very stable. Mercifully stable, in fact. You?"
"We're doing great here in Moscow – nice and quiet.”
“Quiet is good.
“I miss the family. We’ve been talking about visiting soon.”
"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," Andrei says, getting straight to the point as he always does. "You've accomplished what you set out to do in St. Petersburg. Why don't you come back to Moscow for good? We can easily appoint one of our trusted lieutenants to oversee the operations there."
I pause. It's tempting—returning to the familiarity of Moscow, back to the heart of our empire. But something within me resists the idea.
