The reception hall echoes with music, laughter, and the low murmur of deals not being made tonight.
I stand near the edge of the dance floor with a glass of vodka I’ve barely touched, watching Mila laugh with Natalya and a few guests. She glows…no other word for it. Not just beautiful…there’s a self-assured air about her that makes her stand out.
Mikhail sidles up beside me, smirking. “Well,” he says, clinking his glass lightly against mine, “look at you. Married. Domesticated. Who would’ve thought?”
I snort quietly. “I certainly didn’t.”
“You swore you’d never do this,” he continues, amused. “Said love was a liability.”
“I was wrong,” I say simply, eyes never leaving Mila.
Mikhail follows my gaze and softens just a fraction. “Careful,” he mutters. “That look might convince people you’ve gone soft.”
I finally glance at him. “Let them think that.”
Before he can reply, someone clears their throat behind me.
I turn around, and straighten instinctively at the sight of Grigori. He looks older tonight like he’s finally feeling the weight of letting his granddaughter go.
“Congratulations, Andrei,” he says, extending his hand.
I take it. “Thank you.”
Mikhail murmurs an excuse and disappears, suddenly very interested in the bar.
Grigori studies me for a moment, then nods toward Mila. “You treat her well.”
His words were a threat and compliment delivered with deceptive simplicity and I know better than to take them at surface level.
“I try,” I say simply, boldly holding his gaze.
His expression shifts, becomes sharper. “I’m retiring.”
That gets my full attention. “Retiring,” I repeat carefully.
“I’m stepping down asvor,” he continues. “Effective immediately.”
My jaw tightens. “You’re telling me this at my wedding?”
He smiles faintly. “Seemed appropriate. Life transitions and all that.”
“I’m not interested,” I say flatly. “Find someone else.”
“You’re already doing the job,” he replies calmly. “You just don’t call it that.”
I open my mouth to argue but stop when I feel a familiar warmth behind me.
My wife.The thought sends a rush of excitement coursing through me.
She steps beside me, slipping her hand into mine. I don’t look at her right away afraid of what I’ll see.
“I heard,” she says softly, her grip tightening reassuringly on mine.
Grigori inclines his head. “Then you understand what I’m asking.”
She nods. “I do.”
I turn to her then, frowning. “Mila—”