Page 17 of Claimed By The Russian

“So you…want me to stay then?”

“I don’t want you to stay. I need you to stay. I need you in all ways, and as a matter of fact,” I pause “Like I said, you have no choice.”

I pull the box from my pocket, and flip the top up in one motion. I take the ring in my hand and sliding it on her finger. I’m not asking her when we both know she’s mine.

“I love you, beautiful. Always have and always will. From the first moment I laid eyes on you until the end of time and into eternity. You’re free in all ways but one. You’re a prisoner to my heart, and my heart will never let you go. I love you.”

Her body lunges for me as her arms wrap around me.

“I love you,” she says, and my lips find hers, reminding her that she’s mine…mine all mine.

EPILOGUE

Kennedy

One year later

I stare into my baby boy’s eyes as the smell of borscht circles the kitchen. I haven’t taken my eyes off of him for what seems like an hour, except to look at the framed picture of my dad and Kirill on the wall. I would say they were kids, but they’re not that much younger than me at the time. I guess the fact that they were both big, imposing guys plays into the equation.

And speaking of equations, Kirill has been reading all these crazy health blogs trying to figure out the best natural diet for us both to eat so we have the highest percentage chance of having twins. He’s definitely trying to multiple the family exponentially, and as quickly as possible.

I’m right there along with him, and I love trying new foods along with all my old favorites. Plus being pregnant gives me an excuse to eat a little too much, and if I keep the pregnancies close then maybe I won’t have to lose the weight in-between, which Kirill is always insisting I don’t do. He says I need to eat more, to survive the winters. I always laugh, knowing his real motive is the heavier I seem to get the more aggressive he can be with me in the bedroom, and the living room, and the kitchen, the yard, the shower, and all the other creative places we come up with to do our baby making.

“How’s my first born son, and my first and only love doing?” a deep voice says that’s as thick as the dollop of sour cream I need to plop in the borscht any minute now, and deeper than the Black Sea…and a voice that’s just as tasty too, as in those lips that I can’t wait to meet mine.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” I say as he doesn’t keep me waiting, kissing me immediately.

“I’m a Russian spy. You know how we are.”

“I know because I’m Russian now too.”

“You sure are. The perfect combination of old world and new world.”

“Just like us. Old and new,” I tease.

He fingers a scoop of sour cream out of the bucket and dabs it on my nose.

“Hey!” I say, and he quickly repeats the process with our baby Konstantin. “You’re going to wake him up.”

And sure enough his eyes open slowly and he starts giggling, his oh so cute hands waving frantically as he laughs himself into a tizzy.

“We broke ground on the new wing you recommended today.”

“I saw you on TV. You looked so handsome.”

“And it’s going to look so beautiful, thanks to your design.” He pauses. “Did I ever tell you you were a genius for coming up with the idea of a family-themed concept casino?”

“A million times a day,” I reply, proud that I could help and feel a part of something related to his work.

“We’re already in talks with Aeroflot to increase the incoming international flights. The idea of having a Circus type experience, like the one in Vegas, is completely new for us. The casino was doing amazingly well as just a place to play cards and bet on sports. But now that we’ve expanded to the whole family, it’s going to be a level I never could have expected…or reached without you.”

He leans in for another kiss, but I pull back. “But you’re going to take all the necessary precautions to make sure kids can’t gamble, right?”

“That was the first thing we got installed. The kids can ride rides, tour the petting zoo, and eat all the ice cream they want while their parents down vodkas, margaritas, and enjoy adult gambling and shows. And we’ll have family friendly shows three times a day, too.”

“Perfect. You may kiss the bride now,” I tease, and he doesn’t waste a second, just like he didn’t eleven months ago at the lavish wedding he put together. It really felt like my dad was there looking down on me, blessing the both of us.

---