Page 54 of Crimson Curse
Lex regards his watch. “Nine seconds. Acceptable.”
Timur doesn’t stand, but he raises his hand and rumbles, “If you ever need a door removed, a wall relocated, anything heavy carried, you call me. This is a happy day.”
Everyone laughs, including the officiant. Roman says nothing, yet when I glance his way, he touches two fingers to his temple and then his heart. I know enough of him now to translate that gesture as a pledge rather than a greeting.
The officiant nods to us. “Rings.”
Lex brings the box. The rings inside are not ostentatious. Daniil’s is a wide band of brushed platinum with a narrow groove through the center. Mine is the same metal, slimmer, with the same line engraved like a path we share. Daniil takes my ring in his palm. I slide my thumb over the edge of his. They feel cool and familiar, as if our hands have already memorized their weight and shape.
The officiant invites us to repeat after him if we wish, or to speak our own words. Daniil glances at me. I nod. Time holds its breath, and in the silence, I wait for Daniil to speak the words that will bind us forever.
20
DANIIL
The officiant’s words roll over me, but it feels as if the entire world has narrowed to the woman standing before me. Naomi, my wife. The ivory and gold of her gown shimmers with the sunlight, and every breath she takes keeps me tethered to this moment.
The crowd doesn’t matter. The guards stationed around the edges don’t matter. Even the Bratva men who measure my every word and movement are silent against the pull of her gaze.
It’s time to speak, and though I have prepared nothing, the words rise without effort. I lower my head slightly, not to shield myself but to offer her the only truth I have.
“You didn’t just save my life,” I vow, my voice low and unpolished, rough with honesty. “You made me want to live it. With you. For you. And for the baby.”
The words cling to the air, not fleeting but eternal. I gesture toward her belly almost without thought, and something cracks open inside me when I see the shimmer in her eyes. The man Ihave been all my life — thepakhan, the strategist, and the son bound by legacy — is stripped away in her presence.
I tighten my grip on her hands, pulling her closer into the circle of everything I am. “You are the fire that makes me strong. And if the world burns around us, then I will gladly burn with it, as long as I am with you.”
Her lips part, trembling slightly as if she’s holding back too much at once. Then her voice rises, steady but thick with emotion. “You broke through every wall I thought I had to build to survive. You showed me that love is the reason we fight to live at all. I don’t just choose you today. I choose you every day that follows, in every storm, in every silence, and in every breath. I vow to stand beside you, to protect what we create together, and to never let you forget that you are more than your past. You are my future.”
Her words strike deeper than any wound I have carried. I see the truth in her eyes, fierce and resolute, and it shreds the last defenses I thought I could keep.
The officiant’s voice cuts through the stillness. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
The finality of the words settles over me like a prayer answered at last. I lean forward, capturing her lips in mine. The kiss is not for the audience, for appearances, or to display possession. It’s raw and unguarded, a surrender. Her hands clutch my chest, and for a fleeting heartbeat, I feel her tremble against me. Not with fear, but with the same rush that consumes me.
Applause rises faintly from behind us, though it sounds muffled, as if I’m underwater. The world has always been sharp to me,every detail assessed, and every threat catalogued. But right now, there is only her.
When we pull apart, her lips are flushed, her eyes bright, and I know with a certainty that terrifies me that I will never again allow anything to take her from my side.
By the time the evening settles, the estate feels different. It has always carried the charge of power, blood, and legacy, but tonight there is something gentler in its halls. Guards still walk their posts. The hum of surveillance still flows through the security wing. Yet the air seems softer, as if the house recognizes what has changed.
The master suite is unrecognizable. Charlotte’s handiwork is everywhere. Candles glow along the marble ledges, fresh linens are on the bed in ivory and gray, and the window is open to let in the scent of jasmine from the gardens.
Naomi stands near the window, her gown replaced by silk the color of moonlight. It clings to her in ways that steal my breath, leaving little to the imagination. Her hair falls in loose waves down her back, reflecting the glow of the candles, and when she turns, the sight of her nearly undoes me.
Her lips curve in a smile touched with mischief. “Are you going to stand there and stare all night, or are you going to join me, Mr. Zorin?”
I shrug out of my jacket and tug the tie loose from my throat. “I am deciding,” I murmur, “whether I deserve you, Mrs. Zorin.”
Her expression softens, her eyes bright. She closes the distance between us, lifting her hand to my chest. “You do. Whether you believe it or not.”
I cover her hand with mine, pressing it against the beat of my heart. “You are too certain,” I whisper, though I find myself leaning down, brushing my lips across her temple.
She tilts her face up to mine, her voice teasing. “You’re being gentle.”
I let a rough laugh slip from my chest, lowering my mouth to her ear. “Don’t mistake gentle for soft.”
Her breath hitches, and when I press a kiss beneath her ear, she sighs as if the sound has been pulled from her soul.
