Accidental Bratva Daddy (Bratva Blessings)

Epilogue

Natalia

Two years can change everything, and nothing at all.

The glittering ballroom of Moscow's most exclusive hotel buzzes with energy as I glide through the crowd, accepting congratulations and fielding questions about my new baby collection. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over the sea of fashion industry elites who've come to celebrate the successful runway show. The air is thick with expensive perfume, champagne, and possibility.

My own dress—a silk creation in deep burgundy—swishes around my legs as I move. I designed it myself, of course, part of my new "Mother & Me" line that's already generating buzz. The critics are calling it revolutionary—sustainable, affordable luxury that doesn't compromise on style.

"Mrs. Volkova!" Marina, our nanny, approaches with Igor and Nadezhda in tow. My heart melts at the sight of my babies, now active toddlers who've inherited the best of both Luka and me. Igor with his father's intense blue eyes and my auburn curls, Nadezhda with her dark hair and my green eyes. They're dressed in pieces from my collection—clothes designed with both style and practicality in mind.

"Mama!" Nadezhda squeals, making grabby hands at me. I scoop her up, pressing kisses to both their faces as Igor hugs my legs.

"Have they been good?" I ask Marina, though I already know the answer. Despite their spirited personalities, our twins are surprisingly well-behaved.

"Angels, as always," Marina assures me. "But it's past their bedtime."

I give them each one more kiss, breathing in their sweet baby smell. "Goodnight, my darlings. Mama and Papa will come check on you later."

As Marina leads them away, I catch Luka watching us from his position at the bar. Even after two years, the sight of him still makes my heart skip. He cuts an imposing figure in his black suit, the fabric emphasizing his broad shoulders and muscular build. The dangerous edge that made him Moscow's most feared man still lingers in his bearing, though these days he channels that intensity into legitimate business ventures.

I'm about to join him when I hear it—whispered words that slice through the pleasant hum of conversation.

"Her uncle was Kirill, you know? She has some nerve trying to make her brand a household name with those mafia ties. She should be ashamed."

The speakers are two women I vaguely recognize from the fashion circuit, huddled near the bar with their heads bent together like conspiring schoolgirls. My smile never falters as I approach them, chin held high.

"Ladies," I interrupt smoothly, taking satisfaction in the way they startle. "I couldn't help but overhear your... concerns." I meet their wide-eyed stares with unwavering confidence. "Let me be clear: my uncle has nothing to do with me. My father, the incredible man he was, spent his life protecting us from Viktor. And thanks to his efforts, Viktor's organization is gone."

The words hang in the air like crystal—sharp, clear, and impossible to ignore. The women flush with embarrassment, mumbling apologies before scurrying away.

A deep chuckle draws my attention to Luka, who's watching the scene with obvious amusement. "After all these years," he teases as I join him at the bar, "you're still a firecracker."

"Someone has to keep them in line," I retort, accepting the glass of champagne he offers.

His eyes gleam with pride as they roam over me. "Congratulations on your new collection, Mrs. Volkova.” He steps closer, his presence enveloping me like a warm blanket. "And the success of tonight."

The possessive way he says my married name still sends shivers down my spine. When he leans in to whisper in my ear, his breath fans across my skin. "The kids are up in their room with the nanny, and we have our own separate suite for the night."

Heat pools low in my belly at his words. Even after two years of marriage, two children, and countless nights together, Luka still affects me like no one else can. One look from those ice-blue eyes and I'm lost.

"Lead the way, Mr. Volkov," I murmur, setting down my barely-touched champagne.

The elevator ride to our suite is charged with anticipation. Luka keeps one hand possessively on my lower back, thumb stroking small circles that make my skin tingle even through the silk of my dress. The moment the doors close behind us in our suite, he has me pressed against the wall.

"Do you have any idea," he growls between kisses, "how proud I am of you?" His hands roam my body with familiar hunger. "My brilliant, beautiful wife. Taking the fashion world by storm."

I melt into his touch, arching against him as his lips find that sensitive spot behind my ear. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"Nonsense." He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, his gaze intense. "You did this all on your own. I just had the good sense to invest in a sure thing."

His faith in me, his unwavering support, makes my heart swell. This dangerous man who once struck fear into the hearts of Moscow's underworld is now my biggest cheerleader, the father of my children, the love of my life.

“I love you,” I whisper, running my fingers through his dark hair, tugging gently. “So much.”

He doesn’t answer with words, but his eyes, that icy blue softened with something akin to wonder, hold mine captive. Then, his lips are on mine, a passionate kiss that erases everything but the feel of him, the taste of him, the scent of him. It’s a kiss that speaks volumes, a language we’ve perfected over the years—a language of shared secrets, unspoken promises, and a love forged in the fires of our complicated past.

He deepens the kiss, his tongue tangling with mine, and I taste the lingering champagne and something uniquely him that makes my head spin. The world outside fades away—the noise of the after-party, the flashing lights, the congratulations—all of it disappears, replaced by the feel of his body pressed against mine, the heat radiating from his skin, the weight of his hand at the small of my back, pulling me flush against him.

Tonight, the success of my collection, the praise, the burgeoning empire we’re building—it all pales in comparison to this. To him. To us. Each touch, each stolen breath, reminds me of the choices that led us here, to this moment, this life I never could have imagined.

His hands roam my body, mapping every curve as if rediscovering a beloved landscape. I shiver beneath his touch, heat pooling low in my belly, and I press myself closer, wanting nothing more than to meld with him, to become one.

The silk of my dress slides beneath my trembling fingers as I fumble with the tiny buttons at the back.

“Impatient, are we?” he murmurs against my lips, his voice husky with amusement. “Not to worry, your husband is practiced at such things.”

He takes over, his long fingers deftly unfastening the buttons, the cool air a welcome contrast to my heated skin. The dress pools at my feet, and his gaze sweeps over me, lingering on the new black lingerie beneath.

“Stunning,” he says in a lust-roughened voice. “Perfect in every way.”

He reaches out and tweaks my already hardened nipples, then massages each breast. I moan, arching into his touch, desperate for more heat of his skin on mine.

He lowers his head, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my collarbone. He nips lightly, then soothes the sting with his tongue. I moan, my fingers tangling in his hair.

He continues his slow, deliberate exploration. His mouth reaches my breasts, and he draws first one nipple, then the other past his lips. He trails kisses lower, his tongue tracing a path down my stomach, teasingly slow. When he reaches my center he pauses, his fingers tracing the delicate folds there. I gasp, searching for more friction.

He looks up at me, a question in his eyes. I nod, my body thrumming with need.

“Tell me what you want, Natalia,” he whispers, his voice rough.

I hesitate, a blush warming my cheeks. “Kiss me… there,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

His eyes darken with desire. He lowers his head, his lips brushing against my core. He kisses me gently at first, then with increasing intensity, his tongue teasing, tasting, driving me wild. I arch against him, my fingers digging into the sheets, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

He looks up at me, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Is this what you wanted, kotenok ?”

I can only nod, lost in the sensation.

He continues his ministrations, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony, building the pleasure until I’m trembling on the edge.

“Luka,” I gasp, my body convulsing. “Please…”

He chuckles softly, the sound a vibration against my most sensitive point. “Please what, my love?” he whispers, his voice a low growl.

“I need… I need you inside me,” I cry out, my voice raw with need.

He rises, his eyes blazing with desire, his arousal thick and hard between his legs. He slides into me, welcome and familiar, the steel and heat of his cock driving me wild in an instant. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, anchoring myself to him. My fingers dig into his shoulders as my eyes shutter closed.

“You are mine, Natalia,” he says, his voice soft and tender. “You are my family, my safe harbor, my home. I love you, darling . ”

Tears blur my vision. I’m his. Completely, irrevocably his.

We move together, urgency building. His hands roam my body, a constant reassurance. He caresses, he teases, he reminds me with every touch that I’m his.

The intensity builds, my nails digging into his back. I moan as my orgasm takes over. Luka soon follows, shuddering as his release spills inside me.

Later, tangled in the sheets, his hand rests protectively over my stomach. He shifts, pulling me closer, his lips brushing against my temple. “I’ve been thinking,” he murmurs.

“Dangerous pastime,” I tease.

He nips playfully at my shoulder, and I laugh.

"What would you say to expanding the family?" His voice is carefully neutral, but I can hear the hope underneath. "Igor and Nadezhda could use a sibling or two."

I prop myself up on an elbow to study his face. "Are you sure? With the business expanding, and your new ventures?—"

"I'm sure." He cups my face in his large hand, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "I want everything with you, Natalia. Every possible version of our future."

Looking into his eyes, I see the truth of his words. This man who once swore he'd never have a family now wants to expand ours. The former mafia boss has become the most devoted father I know.

"Well then," I say, sliding on top of him with a wicked smile, "I suppose we should start practicing."

Luka’s answering growl sends shivers of anticipation down my spine. As he flips us over, pinning me beneath him, I can't help but marvel at how far we've come. From enemies to lovers, from an arranged marriage to a love deeper than I ever imagined possible.

This is our happy ending.

But really, it's just the beginning.