Chapter 8 - Epilogue: The New Syndicate
Six months later, the snow had melted away, revealing the harsh, beautiful expanse of the Russian spring.
The Marchetti syndicate had tried twice more to retaliate, and both times, Alexi and I had dismantled their operations before their plans even left Italy. My father finally realized that he had not sent a spy into the Ivankov den; he had sent a queen straight to the enemy king, and together, we had rewritten the board.
Standing on the private balcony of the penthouse—the same balcony where I had once searched for an escape route—I watched the sunset paint the Moscow skyline in shades of gold and crimson.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and warm lips pressed against the nape of my neck.
"You're quiet today, Mrs. Ivankov," Alexi murmured, his voice rich with amusement.
I leaned back against his chest, smiling as I looked down at the diamond ring sparkling on my left hand—a very different kind of ring than the one Akatarina had planned for him.
"I was just thinking," I said softly, turning around in his embrace to look up into those dark, dangerous eyes, "that event planning is a terrible career path. The hours are impossible, and the clients are entirely unmanageable."
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Alexi chuckled, a deep, resonant sound meant only for me. He captured my lips in a slow, possessive kiss that wiped away every remaining ghost of our past lives.
"Good," he whispered against my mouth. "Because I have a feeling we're going to be partners for a very long time."
