Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“She’s a speed reader; she reads at least five times as fast as me but types so slowly because she uses just her index fingers. She has to dictate her thoughts because her mind races. She devours romance novels between reading academic literature as a form of stress relief. Last year, she read over two hundred romance books and is on track to break that record this year.”
Murmurs of approval and surprise spread through the room. I shrug. “Accurate,” I say. “Very accurate.”
“Her love languages are acts of service and words of affirmation. She loves it when people do things for her but needs a bit of praise now and then. She enjoys Diet Coke but hates onions. Her comfort food is grilled cheese. She did fine in Russia, but she’d give anything for sourdough bread and American cheese.”
I nod. “Also accurate.”
“She’s close with her mother, who is her best friend,” he continues. “She gets up early but stays up too late because she’s always reading and doesn’t get enough sleep. She can’t hold her liquor, and she loses herself in her studies. She needs someone to remind her to rest, eat, and take care of herself.”
Polina looks at me, her eyes shining. “How did he do?”
I dab my eyes, hoping they don’t notice that he’s brought me to tears. Nikko Romanov loves me. And he knows me. He’s going to give me all those things: the love languages, the grilled cheese, the home with kids and dogs and sunsets.
“I think he’s more than paid his ransom,” I say with a grin. “Can you let him in?”
They open the door, and he’s standing there, silhouetted against a sunset. My tall, serious man.
He looks at me like I’m the only person on the planet, with that intense gaze that makes everything else fade away.
He crosses the room to me, rests his hand on the side of my face, bends down, and kisses me in front of everyone.
The salt of my tears mingles with our kiss. The tightness in my chest loosens, and I feel like I can breathe again.
Life is complex. We make decisions that we don’t always have to justify. And sometimes, we make decisions that look like they are so wrong. But this—this is what love is. Forgiveness in the face of failing. Willingness to pick up the pieces. Understanding each other. Effort to come back together.
“Well done, son,” Ekaterina says. And I’m not sure if she’s praising him for answering all the questions correctly, for doing his job well, or maybe all of the above. He releases me and turns to her. “You’ve met my future wife?”
She nods.
He holds me to him and kisses my forehead. “Then you have met my world.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Nikko
We sit next to each other in the grand ballroom that my mother has decorated. She’s pulled out all the stops, but she had to. The setting must reflect the power and wealth of the Romanov family as we unite with the Ivanovs. A rehearsal dinner is an American tradition, but we are in America, and this is our chance for the families to meet, the night before the wedding.
“Have you met everyone?” I ask Vera. My future wife. I haven’t let her go since we’ve reunited.
Vera shakes her head. “I’ve met Polina, Katerina, and Harper,” she says, smiling. “I assume that’s Aria because she’s the only other woman I haven’t met, and I’ve heard so much about her,” she says with a smile, pointing in fact to Aria. “The man next to her must be Mikhail, and let’s see. . . You’ve mentioned your brothers, but you need to introduce me to them.”
“Ollie’s the one with the green eyes and leather jacket, sitting apart from everyone. I’ll be working with him as the liaison between the Ivanovs and Romanovs. He specializes in international relations. My other brothers. . .” I jerk my head toward the other side of the table, where my other brothers sit.
“That’s Viktor.” Viktor, a hulking, muscular man with a shaved head and a scar running down one cheek, lifts a hand. He gives Vera one of his rare smiles.
“Harper’s husband is Aleksandr.” I point to Aleks – a tall, well-built man with bright blue eyes.
“And Mikhail, our fearless leader,” I say, gesturing to the man with the golden skin and decided air of authority. “The Pakhan of the Romanov brotherhood.”
“Finally, our youngest brother Lev.” Lev, the one who was hurt and almost died at the hands of the Ivanovs. He has a well-defined, athletic build, short dark hair, and deep blue eyes. Lev keeps to himself, likely not as keen to join forces with the men who hurt him. I can’t blame him.
“You’ll meet my mentor, Kolya, soon. He couldn’t join us today. And the children are around here somewhere,” I finish. I’ve missed them.