Page 53 of Crimson Curse
I look up at him. “You never met him.”
“I have learned enough about the man to be sure,” he replies. “He loved you. He would want you to have this, not for the money or the name, but for the way the man at that arch looks at you.”
Butterflies dance in my belly. I follow the line of the aisle to the simple arch, and there he is.
Daniil stands at the altar with his hands clasped lightly, his suit a deep charcoal that drinks in the light without dulling. The white rose in his lapel is the only bright note against all that restraint.
His eyes find mine and don’t leave. It’s not the devouring look of a man claiming a victory. It’s steady, warmer, and filled with wonder softened by certainty. He looks at me as if everything he has built was for this exact moment, and he has finally arrived at the place where the building ends and the living begins.
Lex escorts me to the head of the aisle and stops. He turns my hand over, then squeezes once.
“You know where to go,” he says.
I take a steady breath and step forward alone. The veil whispers over my hair. The silk brushes my ankles. Chairs creak softly as people rise.
On my right, Charlotte presses the handkerchief to her eyes and mouths, “I love you.” I want to stop and hug her. I want to pull her into this moment with me, but she is already here, all the way to the bone. Behind her, Mia gives me two enthusiastic thumbs up before she remembers herself and folds her hands again. I bite back a soft laugh. Dr. Jones nods, as if she has given final approval on a well-curated exhibit, and everything is now in order.
On my left, I meet Roman’s eyes. He lowers his chin in a greeting of respect. Timur doesn’t try to soften his face, but his gaze is kind, a mountain offering shelter. Nikolai lifts two fingers in a languid salute as if this were a Monaco garden party. Maksim watches with an intensity that would be frightening if it were pointed anywhere else. His usual feral edge has been tempered by the day.
I keep walking. The arch grows closer, and with it, the man I am choosing. Two more steps. One more. I stop before him.
Daniil’s breath leaves him with a quiet sound I feel in my chest. His hands open and reach for mine without hesitation. When his fingers lace with mine, the contact sends heat from his skin into my palms and settles low in my belly. It’s not a spark of desire, though that lives here too, but a warmth that says home.
“You are…” He pauses, and the corner of his mouth curves. He doesn’t search for an ornate word. He chooses the undeniable one. “Beautiful.”
“And you are beautiful, too,” I manage. We both laugh softly, and the sound breaks the last of what tension remained.
The officiant steps forward. He wears a dark suit and a pale linen stole that falls straight down on either side of a simple book. I learned this morning that he has known the family since before Daniil was born. His voice is calm and even, with a tone that turns a collection of people into a congregation.
“Friends,” he begins. “We are gathered to witness a covenant that has already been forged in trial and in tenderness. We honor not who they have been alone, but who they will be together.”
His words pass through me like a benediction. I glance up at Daniil again and see that same layer of awe, the rare one he tries not to let anyone witness. The hard lines of his jaw have eased. His eyes are still steady, but they aren’t cold. If anything, they hold a warmth I have only seen in private places when the world has fallen away and he lets himself be only a man, not a title.
The officiant continues with quiet phrases about fidelity and patience, about the gift of being seen and the discipline of staying. He doesn’t talk about destiny. He speaks instead of choices made daily, kindly, and with courage. I think of my father again, of his lists and careful savings, and how he bent his whole life to give me a chance at mine. I wish I could place my hand in his and tell him I found more than a job and a roof over my head. I found a life that looks back at me and says, “Stay.”
I feel Daniil’s thumb press lightly against the top of my hand. A small, steady stroke. A promise in motion.
The rings wait in a small box on a table to the side. When Lex steps forward to bring them, his gaze touches mine for the briefest instant. There is pride there. There is also relief. He would never say it in a room full of people, yet I read it anyway.We made it to this hour. There will be other battles. Today is not one of them.
Before we reach for the rings, the officiant nods to the rows. “I understand there are a few words to be shared.”
I didn’t know anyone would speak. Panic flares then fades when I see only Charlotte rising. She wipes the corners of her eyes, clears her throat, and pulls a folded index card from the tiny purse that matches her dress. She holds it up so I can see the little heart she drew in one corner.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t embarrass you,” she announces, the vow carried on a voice already frayed with emotion. “So, I’m reading this like a responsible adult who planned in advance.” Gentle laughter moves through both sides of the aisle.
She smiles at me. “Nae, I have watched you fight for beauty that most people forget to look for. I have watched you stand up to men with money, men with titles, and ideas with sharp elbows. You made room for people to be seen properly. Today you are letting someone do that for you. I am so proud I could burst.”
She looks toward Daniil next, and I can feel the entire left side of the garden hold very still. “Daniil,” she says carefully, respectful but not afraid, “you guard what you love with everything you have. I haven’t always understood your world, but I understand that. Thank you for deciding that Naomi is not a thing to be guarded like a vase in a case, but a woman to be cherished as your equal. If you ever forget that, I will remind you.” She lifts a brow at him.
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Duly noted.”
She tucks the card away, presses fingers to her lips, and sits. I will thank her later with food, wine, and whatever language of gratitude she prefers today. For now, I hold her words in my chest like a lit candle that doesn’t waver in the breeze.
Nikolai stands without being invited, because of course he does. Lex’s head turns a fraction, the warning subtle. Nikolai gives a small bow to me and then to the officiant.
“Seventeen seconds,” Lex murmurs, just loud enough for the front row to hear.
Nikolai smiles. “I can do it in twelve.” He looks at me. “Naomi, you have improved the aesthetic quality of our gatherings by anorder of magnitude. Please never leave.” He looks at Daniil. “Try to deserve her.” He sits.
