Forced Marriage Vows

24. Mikhail

CHAPTER 24

Mikhail

T he rest of the day passes by in a blur. One minute I’m holding my son to my chest, and the next we’re at the hospital, the doctor assuring Sierra and me that he’s fine and will wake up soon.

Anastasia has already gone home. She was pretty shaken and I wanted nothing more than to be by her side but she insisted I go with my son first. Now I’m driving back home alone. Sierra insisted on spending the night at her place with Jalen. There are several men keeping watch over them. I won’t be slipping up with his safety again.

Adrenaline is still pumping through my veins. All I really want to do is curl up in bed with my wife and hold her to my chest. But there’s a part of me that’s worried about what her reaction will be. We didn’t get to talk much after I shot her father. And I wish more than anything that I hadn’t been the one to take that shot.

But when I walked in and saw him pointing that gun, my entire system went into lockdown mode. All I could think was saving her, making sure she was unarmed.

I killed her father. And now I’m terrified she might hate me for it.

When I walk through the doors of the penthouse, the first person I see is Anthony. He’s leaning against the wall of the living room, a can of beer in his hand, his eyes fixed on his sister. Anastasia’s on the couch, leaning against her best friend. Leah rubs comforting circles on her back.

Her eyes lift to meet mine as soon as I walk in and they’re red rimmed from crying. The sight of it is like a punch to the gut. It floors me to see her in pain. I’d do anything to ensure that it never happens again.

Anthony steps forward. He looks okay, for the most part. There’s no pain in his expression, despite the death of his father.

“How’s Jalen?” he questions.

“He’s okay.” I nod. “With his mom for the night.”

“That’s good,” he murmurs.

There’s worry simmering in the depths of his eyes, too. His gaze flickers to his sister, then back to me. I try to communicate that I’ll do anything to make this okay, to fix it.

“Leelee, we should probably go,” Anthony says. “I’ll spend the night in the mansion. See you both tomorrow.”

Leah hugs Anastasia tight before getting to her feet. She offers me a small smile as she passes by. Anthony leans over his sister, running his hand through her hair.

“It’s gonna be okay, little sister,” he murmurs softly to her in Russian.

He places his hand on my shoulder in acknowledgment before he leaves. I take that to mean that he doesn’t blame me. That he’s not angry about what I did.

Once they’re gone, I settle down next to my wife on the couch. It takes a long time before she speaks, but I wait patiently, ready to hear whatever it is she has to say.

“I feel like such an idiot,” she mutters.

“You’re not,” I immediately assure her.

“Everyone tried to tell me the truth. They tried to show me who he really was, and I was so blind. So fucking blind.”

“He was your father,” I tell her softly.

She finally looks at me, brown eyes sunken, exhausted.

“He’s also the man who terrified me so much in my dreams,” she states and I realize she managed to get the truth from Igor before he died.

I’m glad she found it on her own. When Anthony told me that story, I’d been enraged. And when she’d mentioned her nightmare to me, I’d wanted nothing more than to make her understand it was all his fault. But I controlled myself because no one could have helped her to see the truth. She had to find it on her own.

“How are you feeling, solnyshko ?” I ask quietly.

“I don’t know,” she murmurs. “I’m feeling so many things.”

“Tell me.”

She rubs at her eyes, sighing in defeat. “I’m angry, so angry—at the world, at Igor, at myself?—”

“At me?” I ask, scared of the answer.

She shakes her head. “I could never be angry at you, Mikhail.”

I let out a soft breath of relief, shifting closer to her.

“I understand why you did it,” she continues. “And I’m glad it was you. Thank you for not making him suffer.”

If Igor had been captured, his death would have been painful, long, drawn out. I know how sadistic Rossi can get. Shooting him in the forehead was an act of mercy—not for him but for my wife. Because I’d do anything to protect her from that pain.

“What else do you feel?” I ask, pulling her close until she settles against my chest.

“Grief. And then guilt because after everything he’s done, does he really deserve me grieving him? He was such a terrible person. He killed so many people in the worst ways possible. How could I have ever loved a man like that?”

“Because he loved you, Anastasia. Igor wasn’t a good man, but he was a good father to you. You don’t have to feel guilty for loving him.”

She sniffs, burying her face in my chest. “I’m so tired, Mikhail.”

“Go to sleep, baby,” I murmur softly.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t sleep, not until I tell you something. Either of us could have been seriously hurt today. I could have lost you. And all I could think about is that I would never have gotten to tell how I feel. How in love with you I am.”

My breath hitches as she makes that pronouncement.

“Anastasia…”

“Just listen, okay?” she asks and I nod, falling silent, letting her speak. “I tried so hard to fight my feelings because I was scared. I’ve spent so long being scared, but being with you feels so different. You make me feel safe and protected. I know I can always depend on you and I know without a doubt that you’ll always have my back. I used to think love was loud and obnoxious, but it’s soft, too. Love is you making me breakfast every morning and constantly putting my feelings ahead of yours. We got off to a really rough start, thanks to you kidnapping me and forcing me to marry you,” she says teasingly.

My lips twitch but I don’t say a word. I don’t think I’m even breathing. All I can feel is heart racing in my chest.

“I’m so glad that you did it now. Because I don’t think we would have found each other without that push. And I know now that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Because I love you, Mikhail. So much.”

The weight of her words settles over me and it feels incredible and unbelievable that she’s saying it. A lump appears in my throat.

“This would be the perfect time to say something, babe,” Anastasia drawls. “Unless you don’t feel the same way.”

Before she can pull away, I reach for her hand, holding it tight. She stills, her eyes wide as our gazes connect.

“Be patient, woman,” I scold, making her giggle. “You can be pretty stubborn, you know that? Infuriating. You drive me crazy half the time.”

“I’m really feeling the love, Morozova,” she says sarcastically.

“You should be. And even if you don’t, I plan to wake up every morning and remind you of just how much I love you. I’ve loved you a lot longer than even I realized. You’re in my head, in my heart, my soul. And I can’t get you out. Losing you would break me completely. I love you so much more than I thought it was possible to love someone, and that terrifies me. Because I’ve seen what can happen when you love a person too much. But I’ve decided to put my trust in you, baby. I’m going to spend every day until my last loving and protecting you. Always and forever.”

She stares at me, her breath catching in her throat. I can see the tears welling up in her eyes. Her lips part, like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out. Nothing needs to. I tug her closer, pulling her into my lap and wrapping my arms around her. She melts into me, her face pressing into my neck, and I hold her there, my fingers running through her hair.

“I bought you horses,” I say suddenly.

It was meant to be a surprise, but I decide to tell her now.

“What do you mean?” Anastasia asks, pulling back to look at me.

“You said you liked them, so I bought you a couple. They’re in the stables behind the manor; I reverted the building back to its original state. I was going to show you when we moved into the house.”

Her breath catches. “You’re pretty perfect, you know that, Mikhail?”

My thumb brushes away the tear that escapees down her cheek. “You said they scared you, and I want nothing more than to get rid of anything that causes you fear.”

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I love you.”

“I love you too, solnyshko .”

She leans in, her lips brushing against mine. It’s not a rushed kiss, one filled with urgency or need. It’s soft, gentle, real. Because we know we’ve got our whole lives ahead of us. And nothing will ever keep us apart.