Page 55 of Lobanov Bratva Vengeance
Roman settled Mitya between us at the railing, the boy gripping the cedar wood with chubby hands, mesmerized by the hypnotic sea foam. Roman's arm slid around my waist, pulling me close until my back was flush against his chest. I felt the solid thrum of his heart, a constant, reliable beat against the wide, chaotic expanse of the ocean.
He leaned down, his lips brushing my temple. "You look reflective," he murmured. "Are you worrying about the new wing?"
"No," I said, leaning my head back against his shoulder. "I'm just remembering the first time you poured me tea after theend. My hands were shaking, and yours were only a little. Now, two years later, we're building sandcastles."
He squeezed my waist, the pressure gentle yet firm. "The past is a finished file,moi tsarina."
I thought of the ledgers, the legitimate investments, the foundation that now channeled money to children instead of criminals. I thought of the total absence of Arkady's name in the global sphere, his memory effectively sterilized by Viktor's efficiency. The revenge was clean, and the future was brighter for it.
Roman kissed my temple again, his voice a low, husky promise that barely carried over the sound of the wind.
"No more debts, princess. Only us."
I smiled back, the strong wind catching the lengths of my hair, whipping it across his shoulder. His dark eyes, which had once held only calculation and menace, now held a deep, unwavering devotion that was more potent than any weapon. The princess was gone, replaced by a queen, and the man who kidnapped her was her unwavering anchor.
I turned in his arms, resting my hand on his chest, and I kissed him. It was a long, slow kiss of deep, mutual belonging, a silent affirmation that the terrifying path we had was meant to be. The sun was warm, the ocean vast, and the boy between us was the beautiful, tangible proof of our unlikely foundation.
******
THE END.
