“It hurt finding out about the will and your reason for marrying me from your sperm donor.”
Pain twisted Demyan’s features. “I am sorry.” He reached up to wipe along the tear streaks on one cheek. “You cried.”
“At first, all I could think was that you’d tricked me into loving you when you felt nothing for me at all. That you probably planned on getting rid of me as soon as the ink was dry on the marriage certificate.”
“No!” He kissed her, the connection between their mouths infused with a desperation stronger than anything she’d ever felt from him.
It was a magnified version of the feelings that emanated off him at night when making love since their arrival in Volyarus.
She did nothing to stop the kiss for a long time, needing this connection as badly as he so clearly did.
But eventually, she broke her mouth away. “Were you going to tell me?”
“Maybe someday. I do not know. I did not want to.”
“You were afraid.”
“I am never afraid.”
“Not usually, but the idea of losing me scared you.”
“Have I lost you?” His arms tightened around her even as he asked the question.
“No.”
“No?” he asked, his voice breaking so the word sounded as if it had two syllables.
“Definitely not. Yet.”
His big body went absolutely rigid. “Yet?”
“It all depends on your answer to a question.”
He stared down at her.
“You never break your promises, right?” She let her body mold completely to his, trying to give him strength.
That’s what people who loved each other did—they lent their strength when it was needed.
“Right.”
“Tell me you love me.”
The tension emanating off him increased exponentially.
“Your mom told me what she made you promise her.”
Demyan’s expression was haunted.
“You promised not to say you love me unless you really mean it,” Chanel reminded him. “You can say it now, Demyan. I will treasure your love forever, too.”
“But…”
“You love me.”
“I do?”
“That stuff you were saying earlier, about missing me, being afraid to lose me, even the way you changed the prenuptial agreement, it all means one thing.”
“It does?” Comprehension and acceptance dawned over his features, making him smile with heartbreaking happiness. “It does. I love you, Chanel, more than my life as a prince. More than anything.”
More tears filled her eyes, but these didn’t burn or hurt her heart. “I love you, too.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“No, I mean…we don’t have to live with the whole royalty thing. I know it’s not the life you want. I can abdicate my role.”
It wasn’t an empty promise and it would not come without significant cost to this amazing man. Especially after finally acknowledging his true role as son of Oxana and Fedir, but Demyan was entirely sincere in his offer.
“No. I love you, Demyan. Ruthless prince. Corporate king and shark. All of you.”
“I love you for all that you are, too, Chanel, and that includes the woman who has never aspired to be a socialite.”
“I’m not going to be one now, either.”
“My uncle…father is not going to know what to do with you.”
“He’ll probably call me princess just to annoy me.”
Demyan laughed, the sound freer and filled with more joy than she’d ever heard from him. “You may well be right.”
“So long as you call me love.”
“Koxána moja,” he said, calling her his love in Ukrainian. “Always and forever. You are the very heart that beats inside my chest.”
And then he took her back to the rooms they would share whenever staying at the palace for the years to come and made tender, night-long love to her, using those words and so many others to tell Chanel that this man truly loved her and always would.
Later she snuggled into his body and yawned as she said, “I guess it’s a good thing you’ve got a sneaky, underhanded side.”
“Is it?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“We never would have gotten together otherwise. You snuck past all my barriers.”
“It is only fair, since you destroyed mine.”
Two broken people who had not even realized they were broken had been made whole by love.
Yes, Chanel thought, that was exactly right and fair.
“Love you, Demyan.”
“I love you.”
“Always.”
“For the rest of our lives.”
“And beyond.” Eternity would not end a love so strong.
“And beyond.”
EPILOGUE
OXANA CUDDLED HER latest grandchild. The tiny infant was only three days old, but he was so alert that the queen could not help smiling into soft gray eyes so like his mother’s.
Little Damon was her fourth grandchild and she had no doubts he would bring her every bit as much joy as the other three she’d been gifted by her sons and their wives.
The oldest, Mikael, was five and the only child Gillian and Maksim had conceived. Their youngest was adopted, a beautiful little girl who had both her besotted parents wrapped around her dainty little fingers.
Demyan and Chanel’s oldest had turned two, four months before the birth of her little brother. Both children were cosseted and adored by parents who showed a decided ruthlessness when it came to putting their family first.
Oxana could not be more pleased. She’d given up a lifetime of love and found little personal happiness in order to give her sons the best chance at a better life. One would be king, the other would continue to oversee their business interests, but both were blissfully happy.
And Oxana thought that a more-than-fair compensation for the sacrifices she’d made. After all, she had her grandchildren around her now. They called her Nana, not Your Majesty, and didn’t hesitate to muss her designer couture with messy fingers.
How incredibly blessed she was, but her sons had received the true gift beyond measure.