THE FIXER

But Maxim swings up off the bed. “My bride has spoken.”

My pulse quickens at his words, that rush of warmth filling my chest again.

“I want to put babies in you,” Maxim announces out of nowhere as he’s pulling on his clothing. “Badly.”

I go still and stare, my face heating. My clit pulses in response.

“Of course, we’ll wait until the timing’s right for you.”

“I want your babies,” I blurt, my flush increasing. “But yes, maybe not quite so soon.”

Maxim’s smile is warmer than the sun. He buttons his shirt, regarding me. “You might want to put some clothes on before we go.”

“Oh.” I realize I’m still standing here naked. I retrieve my clothes from the closet where I’d ditched them and get dressed.

Maxim waits for me at the bedroom door, taking my hand and squeezing it before pushing it open. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs. “I’ll always protect you, Sasha.”

My smile wobbles, remembering that I almost lost him, but he kisses my forehead, and I tip my face up to catch his lips against mine.

“My wife will be staying with us, afterall,” Maxim announces to everyone in the living room.

They take it with the same casual grace they welcomed my first arrival.

Dima gives a lazy fist pump and “woot-woot.” Oleg nods.

Nikolai says, “Welcome back.”

“Good. I was counting on Money Bags paying for more cable channels,” Pavel deadpans, flipping the channels. “I already ordered them.”

Lucy smiles at me from the breakfast bar where she sits eating perogies. Ravil stands close behind her, stroking her swollen belly and pressing his lips to her temple. It’s sweet.

Everyone here is sweet. They’re easy to get along with. Real. They’re my family now, and I love them.

“May I? I’m starving.” I walk over and steal a pierogi from the plate that Lucy pushes my way.

“We’re going to move Galina somewhere-preferably far, far away. Kidding,” Maxim winks at me.

“Oh, yeah. I was thinking about another continent, for sure,” I agree.

Ravil turns. “Not Russia.”

I swallow. I know my mother made her own bed, but I still don’t want to see her killed. “No. Somewhere else.”

“Maxim will fix it,” Ravil assures me. “That’s his job.”

I steal a glance at my handsome husband, hardly knowing how I remain standing with the way he makes me knees wobble. He takes my breath away.

“Come on, sugar.” He tugs me toward the door. “Let’s get this over with. I’ll take you both out for food when we move her.”

“You don’t have to be nice to her,” I tell him as he pulls me into the elevator and pins me against the wall.

“I will be. Because she’s your mama. But if she ever tries to take you from me again, all bets are off.”

I wrap my arms around his waist and lay my head against his chest. “Deal.”

EPILOGUE

Sasha

MAXIM BRUSHES a lock of hair blowing in my face back then rejoins our hands. We stand on the beach at sunset, reciting our vows.

We asked Nikolai to officiate what I’m calling “our re-wedding.” The ceremony isn’t real, of course-our paperwork is already filed. Our union legal. But this spoiled princess didn’t want to be deprived of planning her own wedding, so here we are-on the beach in Ibiza-catching the end of season parties.

I flew my college friends-including Kimberly, who I couldn’t leave out-here to help me celebrate. My mom is here on her best behavior, pretending-like me-that this is my first and real wedding.

Ravil and Lucy couldn’t travel because it’s too close to their baby’s due date, but everyone else from the penthouse suite is here-Dima, Nikolai, Oleg, and Pavel, whose lip keeps curling when he looks at my college friends. I guess they’re not his type.

Turns out his type is the kinky kind you one-and-done with, pre-negotiated scenes involving whips and chains. I guess after he heard about the BDSM club where Ravil and Lucy met, he got interested in taking his sadistic tendencies to the bedroom. I noticed Kayla eyeing him with interest when we first arrived, but I quickly put that idea to bed.Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

Maxim looks as devastatingly handsome as ever in a crisp white button-down, open at the throat, the long sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattooed forearms.

“Even though you’re already married,” Nikolai announces in mock formal tones, “I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

My friends cheer and toss rose petals into the air and all over us. Water laps over our bare feet, carrying the petals out to the sea. I jump onto Maxim, straddling him in my short wedding dress as he spins me around and around, kissing me to the deafening cheers.

“Keep going, I’m taking a video,” Kayla calls.

Maxim gets too far out to see and a wave splashes up his legs. I shriek and giggle, climbing higher in his arms.

“I’ve got you, sugar.”

“I know.” I smile at him. Because he does have me. He always has me, and I love him to pieces for it.

He carries me back up the shore to the dry sand and sets me down.

Nikolai and Dima both pop the corks on bottles of expensive champagne, which they pass around for us each to take a pull from.

“Gorko!” Nikolai shouts, in Russian tradition, and Maxim and I kiss, according to custom.

The guys start counting out loud, timing our kiss, which supposedly proves the longevity of our love, and at the same time, gesture to my friends-unfamiliar with Russian wedding traditions-to chug the rest of the champagne.

My lips stretch into a smile where they are permanently glued against Maxim’s.

“All right, all right, enough!” Pavel grumbles after they reach sixty. “We already know you two can go at it twenty-four seven. We don’t need the public demonstration.”