Page 70 of Sinful Bride

“Well, yeah. But no one says you have to stay in it.”

“Does it bother you that I do?” I meet her gaze. This is important. This is the perfect time for her to be honest with me.

Daphne thinks about it, head tilted to one side. “Honestly? No.” Her eyes find mine again. “Did you expect me to say yes? To be bothered by a life I married into?”

“I expected you to have more questions, if nothing else.”

“Well, I do. But I’m trusting you to tell me more when you’re ready.”

I stop our strolling and turn her to fully face me, cupping her face in my hand. I want to say something. But everything that comes to mind feels like it would break the beauty of this moment. So I simply smile and kiss her instead.

When I pull away, I feel a thrill at hearing her need to catch her breath.

“I used to ask myself those same questions, you know. About staying where I was born. And I tried—briefly. But I got dragged back. Responsibility to my family and all. It was my mother, mostly. And then my siblings.”

“I remember her mentioning they had a hard time.”

“Shit hit the fan. Mama was collateral damage. Mak and Sofi… If she couldn’t care for them, who would?”

“I’m guessing you didn’t have any grandparents to step in.”

“No. Her parents were still in Russia and in no shape to help us. Kostya’s parents were dead.”

This time, I don’t have to pull her close. She hugs my arm and leans into me. “I can tell you didn’t have a close relationship with your grandparents. I’m sorry.”

I wave it off. “What about you? Any grandparents in your life growing up?”

She shrugs. “For a short while. My maternal grandparents were already gone by the time I was born, but Stewart’s parents were still around for a few years.”

“You don’t mention them much.”

“That’s the fun part. You know that saying, ‘Shirtsleeves to shirtsleeves in three generations’? My grandfather would say that to me all the time. He grew up poor and made his life into something better, for himself and his family. But his son wasn’t as careful.”

Stewart Hamish was never someone I’d apply the word “careful” to. Not even when he still worked for Chekhov International. “I can believe that.”

Daphne nods. “Right. So my grandfather lived simply. He and my grandmother, who died when I was really little. Going to their house, going out to eat with them… you’d never know they were multimillionaires. He tried to convince my parents to slow down, preserve their wealth and all that, but… well, you know.”

I do know. We’re both here because of it.

Which is not something I’ve ever taken into consideration before. The litany of fuck-ups from the Hamishes, the Clearys, and all my other enemies… It all led to right here, right now.

A peaceful stroll under the stars with the most beautiful woman I could ever dream of having as my wife. While our equally beautiful daughter is pampered in our warm home.

It’s the opposite of how we met, turning art to ashes.

This is turning ashes to art.

“Hey. Come here.”

Daphne glances around, looking for whatever made me stop where we are and turn her to me again.

In reality, it’s nothing. I just want this moment with her.

“Lev.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and hold it out for our trailing shadow to take. “Take some pictures for us.”

Lev steps up from his respectful distance, quirks the tiniest smile, and nods. “Of course, sir.”

“Oh, no.” Daphne shakes her head and tries to hide in my chest. “No. I am not—no. Take some pictures of this handsome guy, but leave me out!”

---