“You know, I’ve been thinking—“ I lean down and kiss her. She melts against me. “Have you decided where you want to live?”
She seems to consider for a second. I try not to show how much anxiety the question dredges up in me. I keep waiting for her to go back to L.A. or even out to Moscow with Yelena. We have an unspoken agreement, but unspoken isn’t the same as saying what we really mean out loud.
“I have some ideas about that, but I was hoping you’re open to a compromise.”
My brows lift. “How’s that?”
“Well, okay, check this out—“ She digs her phone from her back pocket, flicks at the screen, and turns to show me a picture of what looks like a private jet. “I bought this.”
“You bought a plane?”
“And hired a full-time pilot.”
“Nika, baby, what in the world?—“
“Because if I’m going to live here with you in New York, I need to be able to fly back to California whenever I want, okay?! I’m not letting myself be trapped here!”
I gape at her before I bury her mouth with mine. I kiss her, stomach fluttering. Fuck, since when does a Dragon feel like this because of a woman? But now I understand why people always say love can make you do stupid shit.
Like buy a private plane.
“Baby, I have like three of those already,” I say quietly.
Her face turns red. “Seriously?”
“But there’s nothing wrong with having four.”
She groans. “I should’ve talked to you.”
“I love you, Nika. I love what you’re doing.”
“I love you too.”
“You’re sure about this? I mean, you really want—this?” I gesture at me and at the room.
“Want it? God, Gabe, try to pry it away from my cold dead fingers if you really have to.”
I kiss her again, but this time Allie notices, and she yells for us to join everyone. A glass gets shoved in my hands, and another gets shoved at Nika, and we’re dragged into a group of laughing, powerful psychopaths, as Dom cracks open more champagne and raises a glass to the Dragons.
EPILOGUE: NIKA
Idig my toes into the sand. Gulls wheel overhead, trying to get at my snacks, the sneaky bastards. I munch more crackers and ignore them, squinting down at the canvas I have stretched across a portable easel. Oil paints are splattered across my pants as I dab some white to fill in the cresting waves. My eyes hurt from painting in the sun for the last hour, but that beats doing actual work. There’s a folio on the arm of my chair, speckled with reds and blues and mostly left ignored.
The ocean calms me. Keeps me grounded.
Eventually I take a break from painting to do some real work. I open up the folio and start skimming the dense legal language. I probably don’t need to read everything, but I spend most of my life drifting along, scribbling whatever I was told to scribble, and now I’m done with that.
I sign my name with a flourish, and for the first time in a long freaking time, I know exactly what I’m agreeing to and why I’m doing it.
Sometimes it pays to have a Dragon for a husband. Now I get to use all the high-powered lawyers I could possibly want, and they trip over themselves to give me exactly what I ask for.
Not that I abuse my power.
No, I’m super responsible, most of the time.
A shadow falls across my chair. I look over as Yelena drops into the empty seat beside me. She’s wrapped in a white shawl, a big sunhat covering her face, black sunglasses over her eyes. She stretches with a sigh and tips another folder toward me.
“Your requested documents.” She eyes the easel with a smile. “Lovely stuff today, Nikusha.”