Page 139 of Reign of a Billionaire
The young woman waved at us, smiling cheerily, holding the hand of a little boy who looked to be the spitting image of the Nikolaev family. Those Nikolaev genes had to be fucking strong because I had yet to see a Nikolaev who didn’t have their traits—either that pale blond hair or those blue eyes.
“Hey, Louisa.” Kingston and Sasha nodded to each other in typical male greeting. The elevator door slid closed and began to ascend.
“Hello, Branka,” I greeted, barely hearing my own voice over Stella’s strong cries. “Is your little one sick too?”
She opened her mouth to answer but her son beat her to it. “I’m not little,” he practically shouted. I guess the little bugger wanted to be heard over the screams. “I’m three.”
Alexei ruffled his hair but said nothing while I stifled a smile.
“You sure are big,” I agreed. Truthfully, he was the tallest three-year-old I’d seen, but then most of these Nikolaev men were tall and built like warriors.
His eyes came to Stella in my arms, then to Luna in Kingston’s. “They’re tiny.”
They were. The twins were born prematurely, but they were healthy, and our pediatrician said they’d catch up in size. But this fever worried me.
I pressed Stella harder to my chest, feeling her little heart pitter-patter against me.
“You were small when you were born too,” Sasha told his son. “And look how big you are now.”
“Why is she screaming so much?”
The corners of Kingston’s lips quirked and he kissed Stella’s head before planting a kiss on my forehead. “They’ll be fearless like their mama.”
Suddenly Stella’s cries died out and she smiled, at peace as she looked at her papa with doting eyes.
The elevator door dinged, sliding open, and we all slowly stepped outside. First Branka and me, then the men.
Isabella Nikolaev came out to meet us, wearing a white coat and a wide, warm smile.
“Welcome.” She shot a wink at Branka’s son, then turned to face me. “How about we see the two princesses first? Little Damien’s annual checkup can wait a bit longer.”
“I’m notlittle,” he protested, stomping his tiny foot. “But you can see the little babies first.” Damien tugged on my pants and I kneeled down. His hand brushed over Stella’s warm cheek in a surprisingly gentle gesture. “Her crying hurts my ears.”
A soft laughter rang in the room.
“Thank you, Damien,” I said softly. “I’ll be sure to tell Stella and Luna they are in your debt.”
I looked around the room. Alliances. Loyalty. Trust.
And then there was my husband. The boy I loved. The man I fell in love with. We finally got our fairy tale. It might not be perfect, but it was ours, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about it.
Kingston leaned forward, wrapping his free arm around me and guided us into Isabella’s office. Holding on to him, I watched as Dr. Nikolaev took care of our baby, and I knew our future might be dangerous and dark, but together we’d defeat it all.
My eyes found my husband’s. He was my gravity. My whole world. My fucking everything.
We’d found in each other something worth fighting for. Something worth living for. And something worth dying for.
Epilogue-2
Kingston
The rain came down, pounding against the windows, banquette, and bayou of the Crescent City where the Mississippi River curved around the city of New Orleans, and the slogan “laissez les bon temps rouler”—let the good times roll—was a motto for life.
It had been my motto since I was granted Lou back. She and our babies were mine, and I’d never let anyone take that away from me.
My heart thumped so loud I feared the whole city would hear it as I looked down to my daughters in my arms. They slept peacefully, their heads full of curls more beautiful than anything I had ever seen. My wife’s left hand was outstretched over the bed as if she was reaching for me even in her sleep, the bracelet I had given her a long time ago still there. Her soft snores filled the silence, her blonde halo hiding her profile but telling me she was at peace.
My chest shifted as it always did when I watched my family. The world felt so fucking right with them in it. I still collected the teeth of my victims—a reminder not to fuck with me and those I loved.
