Chapter 182 Chapter 182 The Wedding
After almost an hour of taking pictures beneath the most beautiful sunset imaginable, with our wedding party spread around us here at the compound outside stunning Naples, we finally make our way toward the reception tent. My cheeks hurt from smiling, my feet should hurt from these heels, and somehow I still feel like I’m floating.
The tent is massive.
Completely outrageous.
Exactly something Christina would plan.
A live band plays near the dance floor while a DJ waits behind an elaborate booth draped in white roses and crystal strands. The maplewood dance floor gleams beneath thousands of hanging lights. Sheer white curtains line the walls of the tent, moving softly with the evening breeze while candlelight flickers across every table. Rare flowers overflow from giant centerpieces, orchids and peonies and roses flown in from God knows where.
Everything glows.
Gold.
Ivory.
Warm.
Dreamlike.
“Are you ready?” Ivan asks quietly as we step toward the entrance.
I look over at him and almost lose my breath again.
My husband.
Jesus Christ.
The DJ cuts through the room, interrupting every conversation.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Mr. and Mrs. Pavlov!”
The entire tent erupts into applause.
Ivan takes my hand and together we walk through the sea of tables, smiles, cameras flashing, champagne glasses lifted toward us. By the time we reach the dance floor, my heart is pounding all over again.
All those years of classical dance training are finally paying off. Ivan insisted on a proper first dance, something timeless. He chose “At Last” by Etta James.
We take our positions in the center of the dance floor.
Perfect posture.
Perfect form.
His hand settles against my lower back while mine rests over his bicep. Our fingers lace together and the music begins.
And we move.
Smooth.
Effortless.
Controlled.
Like we’ve done this together our whole lives.
For a brief moment, I close my eyes, letting myself feel it all. His hand against my spine. The cool evening breeze against my skin. The music wrapping around us.
When my eyes open again, they land on Ivan.
God.
He is beautiful tonight.
Not just handsome.
Beautiful.
The coldness he wears every day is completely gone. He looks at me like I’m the center of his fucking universe.
And suddenly I’m not regretting this ridiculous wedding one bit.
After four perfect turns around the dance floor, Constantine breaks free from my father and comes sprinting toward us.
“Mamma!”
Ivan laughs under his breath and stops us mid-step, bending down to scoop him into his arms with ease. Constantine wraps himself around both of us immediately, kissing my cheek, then Ivan’s, then mine again.
We sway together while the crowd practically melts around us.
The three of us.
A family.
At the edge of the dance floor, I catch sight of Vladimira.
Her cold expression finally cracks.
Because I have her son.
The son she didn’t want.
My Constantine.
My adopted son.
And Ivan—the man who never wanted her, never wanted a child with her—looks genuinely happy standing beside me holding our boy.
The song comes to an end and applause erupts all over again.
Ivan kisses the side of my head before guiding me back toward our table, but Constantine stays behind, immediately dragging the flower girls onto the dance floor with him.
“Do your feet hurt yet?” Ivan asks, leaning close enough for only me to hear.
“Not yet. These shoes are surprisingly comfortable.”
I lift the front of my dress slightly to show him my silver Manolos with crystal butterflies across the toes.
His eyes darken instantly.
“Did I tell you yet that you look out of this world tonight?” His fingers brush softly against my jaw. “Seriously. You took my fucking breath away.”
Then his expression shifts into amusement.
“Roman thinks so too. He hasn’t stopped staring at you. Neither have the rest of your exes.”
I laugh softly and glance out across the crowd.
There are so many people.
Too many people.
Then my gaze lands on Sergey.
He looks miserable.
Alek shoves his shoulder, clearly telling him to stop glaring at me like a psychopath.
“Husband?” I say slowly, still watching Sergey across the room.
“Yes, wife?” Ivan answers immediately.
“Sergey texted me before the ceremony and asked me to run away with him.”
Ivan’s eyes flash.
Before I can even breathe, his hand grips my jaw and he pulls me into a heated kiss right there at the table. My entire body melts into him instantly. His minty breath, his citrus-and-leather scent, the pressure of his mouth against mine—it still destroys me.
When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests briefly against mine.
“I will forever be your revenge partner,” he whispers. “Any man who has ever hurt you deserves to hurt for the rest of their lives.” His thumb brushes my cheek. “Myself included.”
Then behind him, Miroslav’s voice cuts through the moment.
“Is that why you didn’t make her sign a prenup?” he asks with a laugh. “Fucking idiot. You’re going to cheat eventually and she’ll leave you with nothing.”
Ivan snaps toward him instantly.
“I told you we are done talking about that,” he says coldly. “Drop it. Not here. Not now. Not ever.”
But the damage is already done.
Something sharp twists inside my chest.
Because what if Miroslav is right?
Things between Ivan and me have been good. Peaceful even. Hidden away in the mountains, far from reality. But what happens when we go back to our real lives? Back to the city. Work. Stress. Three kids.
What happens when I’m exhausted?
What happens when I’m not enough?
“Elena?” Ivan’s voice softens immediately. “Dushichka…where did you go?”
I shake my head quickly, forcing a smile I don’t entirely feel.
Meanwhile Miroslav keeps running his mouth, pointing toward Dimitri out on the dance floor. Dimitri has his hands shoved halfway under another woman’s dress while Marie sits calmly at their table sipping champagne like she couldn’t care less.
“You’re all the same,” Miroslav says bluntly before looking directly at me. “You just made the biggest mistake of your life.”
Stanislav stands so fast his chair nearly tips over.
Ivan rises right after him.
“Take him outside,” Ivan says sharply to security. “Go sober up. Then come back and apologize to my wife.”
Before the situation can get uglier, someone clears their throat beside the table.
I turn.
Mason.
“May I dance with the bride?” he asks politely.
I nod immediately.
Anything to escape the tension.
Mason leads me onto the dance floor, one arm around my waist, careful not to pull me too close.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
I glance up into his hazel eyes and smile despite everything.
“I hope our daughter looks like you.”
Mason laughs warmly.
“I hope she looks like you,” he says, leaning closer. “Because you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
Then he smirks slightly.
“And you already know that.”