Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 76915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 385(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
The thought made me giggle with anticipation.
Was I… horny?
I giggled again. That was new. All of this was new. I shrugged I had to let go and trust that things were working out for me. Was I thrilled about Anton and Anastasia’s concerns about his father? No. Did I trust him to keep me safe? Yes. Was I over the moon about his desire to commit to me? Yes.
Oh my God, yes.
I let the slip settle over my curves, then slipped on my shoes. My hair was clean and shiny, though I hadn’t bothered to blow dry it that morning. Perhaps that was for the best. Clean and natural, like the landscape of California.
I was not in my dress yet, but I already felt beautiful.
“Ready?”
“Ready,” I said shyly, opening the bathroom door.
“Makeup first or after we put the dress on?”
“After,” said the American maid. “Definitely after,” she added for emphasis.
I nodded and Anastasia had me sit on the edge of the counter, while she lightly applied makeup. After I quickly brushed my teeth. The maid, whose name was Cassie, then brushed out my hair, made two braids with the front portions and pulled them back, securing them with bobby pins and adding the half wreath of flowers.
Finally, I was allowed to stand up but they would not let me look in the mirror yet.
First the dress and the jewelry had to be in place for the full effect. I raised my arms over my head like a dutiful child being dressed for bed. But I was not being dressed for bed, I was being dressed for my wedding. A wedding I had not known was happening today. I had not imagined that anything like this could happen at all.
I offered up my ears and throat, and finally my wrist.
They stepped back and stared at me, saying nothing.
“Can I look?” I asked, feeling unaccountably nervous.
“Yes, of course,” the maid stammered.
“Oh Mishka… you are so beautiful,” Anastasia said in Russian.
I stood and faced the mirror. I gasped. It was so different from anything I had ever worn. Not as a girl in Moscow. Not in Anton’s employment. Not since my ‘Pretty Woman’ makeover.
I looked free. Natural. Young. Not like an elegant rich man’s wife. I looked like a girl. Like a bride.
“Oh,” I said, not sure what to say.
“Oh, indeed,” Anastasia said. The Maid handed me the bouquet and curtsied.
“Would you like a moment to FaceTime your father?”
I felt tears start to well in my eyes and nodded.
The call was not long. He cried. I cried. He told me he was proud of the woman I had become and that he knew Anton was a good man. Then he told me to dry my tears and that he would see me tomorrow.
Anastasia came in and retouched my makeup. She had not used a lot so thankfully it hadn’t smudged much. I was ready in another moment. She took a couple of pictures of me standing by the window overlooking the ocean.
Then it was time.
“Tell Anton we are coming,” she said over the phone to her husband, Vice. We had gossiped a bit about her whirlwind romance with the rough around the edges biker. He was also an investigator and security expert. I heard his gruff response, along with an even gruffer, ‘I love you’. She said it back of course, flapping her hand at me while I giggled.
It was that natural. We were already fast friends.
“I am glad I am here for this, since I won’t get to be at your Moscow wedding. Or the one in Switzerland,” she added, giving me a quick hug before we headed downstairs.
“Three weddings.” I said, feeling a bit dazed buy the sudden turn of events. At least they were positive events. What was the opposite of a disaster? A miracle?
The wedding that was about to happen was a miracle.
Anton was a miracle.
His love for me was a miracle.
“Shall we?” She asked, offering me her arm. I nodded, a tiny opalescent beaded handbag holding my phone and a lipgloss dangling off of one wrist, with the bouquet held in my hand. We walked down the stairs, through the front door, and out into the sunlight.
Chapter 43
Anton
“Should we tackle him?”
I glared at Trace, one of Cain’s guys. He was in cyber security. We had used him more than once. I knew Vice considered him to be family, so I resisted the urge to break his fingers.
It was extremely tempting though.
“Slow down, brother,” Vice said with a kind smile. I sighed and stopped pacing. I had been wearing a rut into the grass. I was terrified that Mishka would change her mind.
Thankfully, Anastasia was with her.
I knew my cousin would tackle her if she tried to run, pregnant or not. But Mishka had not run, I realized as a hush fell over the crowd of bikers. Everyone turned back towards the house, including me.