Page 60 of Claimed in Sin
Sergei's glare remains plastered on his doubt-riddled face, but he doesn’t understand yet. He will, someday. He'll come around and realize that Marina is right. This is the best thing that's happened to his organization in a long time, and he's better off having sided with us.
"We're stronger together," Roman says.
"I appreciate the clarity," Sergei says. He leans forward and takes the glass of vodka served to him when he first came in and finishes it in one swallow. His hand shakes as he sets it down, then pushes away from the table.
Roman stands and buttons his jacket. "I'll have Timur send copies tonight. Yegor's got a direct line if you need me." He shakes Sergei's hand, nods at me, and walks out, and my cousins follow him out the door. I asked Ro ahead of time for this moment alone with Sergei—with many promises that I wouldn't touch a hair on his head. And I've been anxious to get this part over with.
When he starts toward the door, I say, "Sergei," and he stops, turning back toward me. "I want to talk about the wedding," I say as I stand and button my suit coat. This isn't your average "speak to the father" moment. In our world, arrangements like this don't happen with the man asking for his father-in-law-to-be's blessing.
His scowl tightens, but the mention of his daughter gets his full attention. "Go ahead."
"Marina and I would rather have your cooperation than not," I begin, taking a hesitant step toward him. He's been against this from the beginning, but allowing his daughter to make her own choices doesn’t seem to be something he's ever been good at.
There's still plenty of resentment when he looks at me, but it's cooled from where it was a week ago. The fact that he's even willing to sit in the same room as me without armed men between us is progress I'm not going to take for granted.
"I have one condition," he says thoughtfully, and his chin lifts fractionally. If there is only one condition, we're more than halfway to winning the battle.
"Alright."
"If you're going to insist on this foolish display, at least have the decency not to shame her." He says it bluntly, and I scowl at him. I would never shame her. "I want you to wed within the month. My daughter isn't going to stand in front of every family in this city visibly pregnant at her wedding. I won't have people whispering about her. Whatever you and I think of each other, we can agree that she deserves better than that."
It's not an unreasonable ask. It's actually the most fatherly thing he's said to me since this whole mess started, and I can hear it underneath the gruff delivery—he's not trying to control the situation anymore. He's trying to protect her reputation, and potentially, his own at the same time.
"I can do that," I say. "Marina would want the same."
When he turns again to walk out, I call after him, "You know, she loves you."
Sergei pauses, head dropping. He doesn’t turn around as he opens the door, but he grumbles something incoherent at me. It's the reaction of a man who is deeply ashamed of his behavior. Marina's father knows what a piece of trash he is and he can't even face up to it, even if she forgives him.
I watch him walk out and run a hand through my hair. It's finally over, all the stress and worrying. My job to dismantle the Orlov-Belova alliance is finished and it's been successful, more so than I ever thought. I have a new wife to go home to and a baby on the way, and life is fuller than I ever dreamed possible.
And if being married to Marina is even half as eventful as our dating period, I'm in for a bumpy ride.
EPILOGUE: MARINA
Stepan stands across from me. The priest is speaking, the crowns haven't been placed yet, and I can't stop looking at his handsome smile.
This man is my whole world now. The things he's gone through to fight for my heart, and after two solid rejections, here we are at the altar getting married. I can't believe it. I feel like the luckiest woman in the world. Not even the giddy snickering of my best friend who stands behind me as my maid of honor can distract me.
The priest's voice fills the garden, speaking about devotion and union and the binding of two lives. It's so surreal. This is my wedding day, and it's magical like a fairy tale or a dream come true. Months ago when I chose the botanical garden here in Perm, I thought I would hate this moment, standing at an altar with a priest, signing my life away into marriage. But today is better than I could ever have hoped for.
Truly, my mourning has been turned to joy.
Stepan catches my eye and mouths words I can't read.
"What?" I whisper.
"You're beautiful." It's rude to talk over the priest, but I blush and grin at him.
"Stop it. I'm going to cry." My hushed whispers don’t seem to distract the man from doing his job, and I find myself tearing up.
"You're already crying."
He's right. I've been crying off and on all morning, though the worst of it started when my father walked me down the aisle and told me I look beautiful. I didn't think he'd ever forgive me or be kind to me again, but he's slowly been coming around. It gives me hope for a future I desperately want to see, where he accepts me and Stepan and loves our baby as his grandchild.
The priest asks us to face each other and join hands, and Stepan's fingers close around mine. I don't know how he's so steady and confident when I feel like a nervous wreck. This is all so fast, but I know in my heart it's what I want. I don't think I would even look at another man the way I look at Stepan.
Elira steps forward with the crown and places it on my head. Kazimir does the same for Stepan. Generations of women have worn this crown and walked this circle and spoken these words, and now it's my turn.
