Oleg looks the most uncomfortable in his, like at any moment he might pull an Incredible Hulk and bust his huge muscles through the fabric.
Flynn looks the most at ease in his tux. Dapper, even. His electric guitar is plugged into an amp, and he’s playing some beautiful Spanish guitar melody. He’s not Russian, nor technically a bratva brother, but he has an honorary place with us. He killed for Nadia, Adrian’s sister, so he was given the ink on his skin to mark the crime.
He’s not the only outsider on the yacht. A small crowd of guests has arrived and taken seats on the top deck where the ceremony is to take place.
The captain of the ship arrives on our deck and gives us a nod, and Flynn finds an ending to his song and sets the guitar down for later. He and his sister and their bandmates will be the entertainment after the wedding.
The bratva men file out in a line. Ravil and Maxim lead the way, then Oleg and Dima, Adrian and Pavel, Flynn and me. Nikolai takes up the rear.
We wait at the top of the stairs for the music to cue us, then Ravil offers an arm to escort Lucy down the aisle, followed by Maxim and Sasha, then Oleg and a pregnant Story, Dima and Natasha, Pavel and Kayla, Adrian and Kat, Flynn and Nadia.
My gaze goes soft the moment I see my beautiful Valkyrie and she takes my arm to walk down the aisle together. She’s starting to show at eighteen weeks.
It’s not our wedding.
I married her two weeks after I brought her back to my apartment, as soon as we could get the paperwork together to make it legal.
No, today is Chelle and Nikolai’s wedding.
Chelle’s brother, Zane, walks up the aisle behind us then Nikolai.
Chelle wanted a real wedding–an American wedding–so we are here, dressed to kill. Hopefully not literally today.
The men fan out behind the groom, our beautiful women arranged on the opposite side. I can’t take my gaze off Kira, who is perfection in the strapless teal gown, tailored to make room for her expanding belly.
“Mama?” Benjamin stands uncertainly at the back.
The crowd laughs softly and murmurs in adoration.
Lucy and Ravil beckon to the boy, and he takes three slow steps, then races the rest of the way down the aisle and into Ravil’s arms. Ravil picks him up and holds him as everyone stands for Chelle’s grand entrance.
Nikolai tugs at his bowtie when he takes in the sight of her, clearly overcome.
It’s a sweet and short ceremony with vows they wrote themselves, and then the party begins.
The band tunes up. Champagne is poured.
Chelle and Nikolai circulate in the crowd.
I take Kira’s hand, and we find a spot against the rail to look at the water together.
“I love living on this lake,” Kira murmurs.
“Do you?”
“Yes. It feels like Anya’s always with me. The real Anya–the one from my childhood who made me laugh and took care of me.”
“I’m glad.” I kiss her temple. “Do you wish you had a wedding like that?”
Kira scoffs. “Me? Absolutely not. I mean, it was lovely, but I don’t need any of that.”
“No.” I brush her hair back from her face. “You’re a warrior, not a princess, aren’t you?”
She smiles and shakes her head. “No more war. Just peace now.”
It’s true. While Kira has taken a position on my security team for the building, she spends her free time on more creative endeavors. Learning pottery from Kat. Baking. Taking kickboxing and yoga.
She’s blooming into more and more happiness every day, expanding my own capacity for joy. Love. And yes, peace.
She’s my best failure as gatekeeper, crashing past all my defenses, indelibly into my heart.