Page 53 of Reign of Four

The faintest blush colors Ezra’s cheeks, and my heart melts. I push myself onto my tiptoes and kiss him. What begins as a sweet press of lips quickly heats, and he’s lifting me into the car and laying me down across the seat within seconds. Our driver closes the door just in time for Ezra to kiss me again, harder, stronger, sighing against my lips as he crawls on top of me.

I look up at my mountain, overwhelmed with emotion. I’m so glad that he’s here with me. That he’s healing. That he’s mine.

We don’t speak, but we don’t have to. We say what we need with gentle caresses and not-so-gentle kisses, coming together in the language we both know works for us. I run my fingers through Ezra’s short-cropped hair and sigh as he lifts up my dress to feel me deeper, to claim me as his.

My husband. My guardian. My love.

Chapter 19

Valentina

Over the next few days, we spend most of our time reconfiguring our assets and introducing me to the business side of the Bratva. I take Russian lessons from Ezra, political ones from Andrei, and geographical ones from Mikhail. We spend a lot of our time either in Andrei’s office, the library, or touring the city in Mikhail’s sports car or on Ezra’s motorcycle.

But the best part of all comes at the end of a long week, after all of our lessons are complete for the day, and we’re able to relax. Andrei leads me out the back of the estate to watch the sunset. We’re in the throes of autumn, gearing up for winter, and the leaves around us fall in flurries more each day.

I’m looking forward to cozy nights snuggled between my men, watching the snow fall, or listening to the crackle of a fire.

But for now, enjoying the chill of nightfall and the cascade of fading sunlight feels just as perfect as everything else.

Andrei kisses the top of my head. “I have a surprise for you, zhena. Come with me.” He takes my hand and brings me past the gardens, across the expanse of withering grass, to the Baranova cemetery tucked in the back corner of the estate. I haven’t been here since Mikhail brought me to my father’s grave. There’s nothing for me here but a reminder of what’s been lost.

My chest aches as we draw near. “I don’t want to go in.”

If I see my father’s plot again, I might be sick. I was so angry when Mikhail showed it to me—when I realized all the lies he’d told and how he hadn’t buried my mother like he’d promised.

If Andrei is taking me to see my grandmother’s plot, I might really get sick. She is no better than my father, in the end. “I thought we weren’t burying her.” I keep my gaze unfocused as I’m brought to the center of the cemetery, where my father’s been buried. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to feel all the hurt and anger and resentment after spending so many days healing, surrounded by love.

All I’ll find here is heartbreak and grief.

“I don’t want to be here, Andrei.”

He glances at me from over his shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

I take a deep breath. Of course I trust him. I follow him deeper into the cemetery. At first, I keep my eyes on the fading pinks and purples in the sky, avoiding the inevitable end of our journey, and the emotions I’ll have to face. I know, he’s probably wanting to give me closure.

But I don’t want it.

I could never come back here again and be okay with that.

It isn’t until we’ve come to a stop that I finally lower my gaze.

I don’t understand what I’m looking at. Two trees frame a simple, white stone lying flat in the earth. My father’s tall, domineering tombstone is missing—in fact, all of the dirt and decay surrounding it is gone. In its place are seasonal flowers delicately composed around the new memorial and a stone path leading to it.

“You redid my father’s grave?” The dirt’s been disturbed, chopped up to put in the flowers and decor. It’s pretty.

Nothing about my father was, or should be, pretty.

Andrei shakes his head. “I thought we could put something better here.” Gently, he pulls me beneath the canopy and onto the path. I stare at the new white granite headstone, squinting to read the etching in the fading light.

In memory of Maeve Baranova, beloved mother and protector

Tears fill my eyes. “Mom?” I lower myself to my knees and brush my fingertips over the stone. She will finally be honored in the way she deserves. It’s not enough to make up for the past, but it’s close.

Andrei squeezes my hand as he kneels by my side. “Mikhail told me what happened when he brought you here before. I had your father removed from the property and this built in its place. We’ll replace the flowers each season so that there is always something in bloom, and the trees will grow to encompass a much larger space, in time. They should bloom in the spring with pink flowers. We can add a bench, if you’d like, or a fountain. Whatever you think Maeve would like, or what you would like. This is a space for the two of you.”

I can’t stop the tears from coming. They flow freely, wetting my cheeks and blurring my vision. I swipe at my eyes, but it’s no use. I’m overflowing with love—for my mother, for Andrei, for this space he’s given us. “Thank you,” I murmur, holding in a sob. “Thank you so much.”

He pulls me into his chest and lets me cry against him. My tears turn into sobs, wracking my body. I wish my mom were here for real, to see the love I share with these men. To see what we’re going to build together. How we’re going to reshape the Bratva to be better than she experienced.

---