Page 24 of King of Shadows

He lifts the ring slightly. “Chloe Sokolov doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

A laugh escapes me, mixed with a sob. He smiles. “Will you marry me?”

I don’t even have to think about it, I nod, smiling through the tears streaming down my face. “Yes. Yes, Kazimir. I’ll marry you.”

He slides the ring onto my finger, and it fits perfectly. I barely look at it before pulling him into a kiss. He rises from his knee and wraps his arms around me, lifting me off the floor, I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, laughing against his mouth as he carries me.

The kiss turns hungry, my hands are in his hair, then down his back, pulling him closer as he lays me down on the bed beneath him. I rock up against him and feel him harden between my thighs as he breaks the kiss only long enough to sit me up and drag my dress over my head.

I return the favor, shoving his shirt off his shoulders, then his belt, and the rest. He unhooks my bra, my panties follow, and then there is nothing left between us. He slides a hand between my legs and pushes a finger into me, then a second, I’m already wet. He curls them, fucking me slowly at first, then deeper, and I roll my hips to meet every stroke.

“Kazimir…” his name breaks out of my mouth.

He pulls his fingers out and brings them to my mouth. “Taste yourself, baby.” I lick them clean, tasting myself, and his eyes go darker before he lines himself up and sinks into me in one slow, complete thrust, bottoming out. I gasp as he groans, his hands moving over me while he starts to move, deep and unhurried at first, then harder when I pull him closer.

“I love you,” I whisper against his mouth.

He kisses me, not breaking rhythm. “I love you too. You’re mine, both of you.”

The words, angle and the stretch of him send me over, and I come with my face buried in his throat, shaking around him. “Oh…Kazimir!”

He follows almost immediately, burying himself to the hilt and spilling inside me with a rough sound that I feel in every part of my body.

***

With Kazimir’s enemies already knowing about me, we can’t afford to wait, so when Kazimir suggests we get married at the courthouse that weekend, I agree. There’s no reason to delay when I love him and already know I want to spend my life with him. I don’t mind keeping the wedding simple. I don’t have a big family to invite anyway.

“Girl you look so beautiful,” Bea gushes as the makeup artist finishes up with my makeup and leaves.

She’s already dressed in her maid of honor’s dress, a blush sequin dress. I stare at myself in the mirror, I indeed look beautiful, my dark hair falls down my back in soft, glossy waves, framing my face and making the makeup stand out even more.

“Kazimir is going to do a double take when he sees you in your dress,” Bea says, coming to stand behind me.

“It’s just a simple dress, nothing special.” With the limited time we had, we couldn’t find a designer who could create my dream wedding dress, so I had to settle for something close from a bridal store.

“No, it’s not.” Bea types on her phone as she speaks, and a moment later, there is a knock on the front door. She smiles and heads out to answer it.

“Who was that?” I ask when she returns to the bedroom, struggling to carry a large garment bag. “And what is that?”

“This is your wedding dress.”

“But I already—”

The word dies in my mouth when Bea unzips the bag to reveal a stunning white wedding dress. Exactly like the one I always told her I’d like to wear on my wedding day. “Oh my…” I reach out and run my fingers over the fabric, barely believing it is real.

The bodice is fitted through the waist, with delicate lace tracing the neckline and continuing down the sheer sleeves. Tiny crystals are scattered across the lace, while the skirt falls into a soft, flowing train that trails several feet behind it.

I look at Bea, who is grinning from ear to ear. “How?”

“Well, after we couldn’t find your dream wedding dress in any of the stores, I reached out to Kazimir. I described exactly what you wanted, and he contacted Pierre Glamz and demanded he designed it for you.”

“Wait, did you just say Pierre Glamz?”

Pierre Glamz is it when it comes to bridal splendor, and you usually have to book him months in advance before he will design a dress for you. He is based all the way in Paris, which makes this even more unbelievable.

I stare at Bea in disbelief. “How did you manage to get him to work on it at such short notice?”

“Not me, your fiancé,” Bea says with so much pride. Ever since I told her about his life in the Bratva, she has come to respect him even more. She is fascinated by the fact that her best friend is about to marry into the Bratva. Trust Bea to be the only person who could hear something like that and somehow find it exciting.