Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Since we’re all in agreement, then,” I say, turning to my mother. “I believe it’s time to plan a wedding.”
Chapter 31
POLINA
Rafail finally brings out the vodka. The tea was excellent, but it’s time for something much stronger.
We drink shots and try to ease the tension in the room, but it’s been a long, long day. Hell, it’s been a long, long month. My eyes are heavy and my body exhausted.
Still, I sit with my mother and brothers, a part of my soul basking in the balm of our reunion until Rafail finally stands. “You need rest,” he says, his eyes meeting mine across the room.
I swallow hard, and I’m suddenly very, very awake.
“We all do,” Mikhail says, pushing to his feet. “The irony is we aren’t very far from here.”
He shakes hands with Rafail, and something passes between them in the rough palm-to-palm contact, their eyes locked on one another.
“Come for lunch.” Rafail invites him in what sounds almost more like an invitation than a command, which tells me he’s definitely trying. “My men will have more information in the morning.”
“As will mine,” Mikhail says with a nod. “We have connections in Colombia and will know more about the whereabouts of Soloto.” I think all of us, even Zoya and Rodion and Grandfather, are aware of the tenuous hold these two have on peace.
But I’m the one aware of my position at the crux of it all. I’m the linchpin keeping the two families from an all-out feud.
So I walk over to them and place each of my hands on one of their shoulders. “Very good, gentleman,” I say with a smile. “You’re playing nice. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”
I know my family would love if I came back with them. If I let them take care of me and we could catch up on all that’s transpired.
But I belong here now. It’s more than a sense of duty or obligation… this is my home. This is my world now as much as it’s his.
Mikhail gives me a begrudging smile, and as he opens his mouth to speak, I continue.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I look to Rafail. “And Rafail and I have much to discuss.”
I need closure, and so does he. We’ve come to the end of a long battle, dust still rising in the air, our wounded not yet tended to. We have much to attend to.
Mikhail looks at Mom. She smiles sadly and nods, but the line between her brows has softened. I turn to her and squeeze her hand. “Tomorrow,” I remind her gently.
After my family’s gone, Rafail turns to me. “The rest of you get some sleep. Zoya, will you prepare lunch for us?”
“Absolutely,” she says, her eyes shining. “I need to get some groceries.”
“Make a list, and I’ll make sure you have them.” He reaches for me, almost tentatively, as if he’s afraid if he moves too fast, I’ll evaporate. Our fingers meet. It feels like home. I step closer to him as he goes over what he needs Rodion and Semyon to do. “I’m proud of you,” he finishes. “I was proud to have you by my side.”
I smile at both of them. “I was too. Thank you.”
And then, finally… we’re alone. Everyone’s gone, and it’s just the two of us. I stare at the man I thought was my husband, who soon will be.
“Come here.” My heart pounds.
And then I’m gathered in his arms. He holds me to him so tightly I gasp for breath before he bends, swoops me up, and lifts me into the air.
Our faces hover inches from one another. He cups my face with one hand while holding me with the other. Pulling me against him, the first brush of his lips to mine makes heat pound in my veins and my breath come in a gasp. I can feel when his control snaps, and he pours every ounce of anger and frustration, need and desire, fear and wanting into that kiss. I’m so lost in his orbit that I barely know up from down or night from day. I’m fully lost in the power of silent forgiveness.
The weight of our decisions and the promise of tomorrow are held in the kiss that takes my breath away. I taste the salt of my tears mingled with his desperation for oneness. The tension in my body begins to seep out of me bit by bit until I’m boneless and pliant to his sturdy grip.
His fingers on my jaw brand me, his lips both soft and firm. I lay my hand on his and kiss him back.
We’re breathless, panting, and wrecked when we pull away, gasping for air.
“I love you,” he says in a shaky whisper. “And I’m sorry. I swear to god, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if only you’ll stay.”