Chapter 305

Chapter 305
Beckett

"Wait, let me get this straight," Rosalind said, pausing in the middle of applying her lipstick. "You want to take me and our three-year-old daughter to your ex-girlfriend's wedding?"

I adjusted Linda's tiny bow tie—part of the matching family outfit Rosalind had insisted we wear—and grinned at my wife's reflection in the mirror. "It's a wedding, darling, not a romantic rendezvous. Very different social functions."

"Uh-huh," Rosalind said, turning to face me with that look that meant she was about to say something devastating. "Well, I'm sure she won't be too impressed with you now anyway. You've gone full suburban dad. You probably smell like baby powder and have Goldfish crackers in your pockets."

I gasped in mock offense, placing a hand over my heart. "Is that what you really think? That I've lost my devastating charm?"

"Completely."

"Well then," I said, standing up and striking what I hoped was a suave pose, "I guess I'll need to work extra hard today. Maybe I should wear the Armani suit, remind everyone why I used to be considered Boston's most eligible bachelor."

Rosalind immediately moved to block my path to the closet. "Oh no, you don't. You're wearing the matching navy blazer that goes with Linda's dress and my outfit. We're going as a coordinated family unit."

She held up the considerably less intimidating blazer she'd selected—still expensive, but definitely more "devoted father" than "dangerous ex-boyfriend."

"This," she said firmly, "is what makes you handsome now. The fact that you're willing to wear matching outfits to make your wife and daughter happy."

I looked at the blazer, then at my girls, both watching me expectantly. "You know what? You're absolutely right. This is much better."

Linda clapped her hands as I put on the blazer. "Daddy, we all match!"

"We certainly do, princess," I said, scooping her up. "And today, Daddy's going to introduce you to a very special lady named Valentina."

"Valentina!" Linda repeated with delight. "I like that name! It sounds like a princess name!"

"It does, doesn't it? Are you ready to meet her?"

"Yes! Let's go, let's go!"

Rosalind crossed her arms and fixed me with a stern look. "Before we go anywhere, I have a very important question for you, Mr. Montgomery."

"Oh no," I said to Linda conspiratorially. "Mommy has her serious face on."

"Linda," Rosalind said solemnly, "I need you to ask Daddy who's more beautiful—Valentina or Mommy?"

Linda looked between us with the gravity of someone being asked to solve a great philosophical debate. "Daddy, who's more beautiful?"

I pretended to consider this very carefully. "Well, that's a tough question, sweetheart. Valentina is definitely a beautiful lady..."

Rosalind raised an eyebrow dangerously.

"But," I continued, "she's not nearly as beautiful as the gorgeous, brilliant, amazing woman who happens to be the mother of the most perfect little girl in the world."

"So Mommy wins?" Linda asked.

"Mommy wins by a landslide," I confirmed, kissing Rosalind's cheek. "Not even close."

"Good answer," Rosalind said, but she was smiling now.

The private jet to New York gave us a chance to relax before what promised to be an interesting afternoon. Linda was occupied with her coloring books, giving Rosalind and me a rare opportunity for adult conversation.

"So tell me about this mysterious groom," Rosalind said, settling into the seat across from me. "How exactly does someone manage to tame a New York crime boss?"

I laughed, thinking about the last photo Valentina had sent of her fiancé. "His name is Dr. Marcus Chen—PhD in Ancient Literature from Columbia, specializes in medieval manuscripts. He's about as far from her usual type as possible."

"A professor?" Rosalind's eyebrows shot up. "How did they even meet?"

"Apparently he was researching some historical documents that her... organization... happened to acquire through questionable means. She was supposed to intimidate him into keeping quiet about their provenance. Instead, she ended up fascinated by his lectures about Byzantine art."

"That's actually quite romantic."

"I suppose it is. Though I have to admit, I'm a little concerned for the poor guy. Have you seen him? He's about six-foot-two and maybe weighs 150 pounds soaking wet. Valentina could probably bench press him."

Rosalind laughed. "And yet somehow he had the courage to propose to one of the most dangerous women in New York. I think you're underestimating Dr. Chen."

I considered this. "You know what? You're probably right. After all, I had the courage to marry you, and you're at least as terrifying as Valentina when you want to be."

"More terrifying," Rosalind corrected. "I took down an entire criminal empire with a spreadsheet and a PowerPoint presentation."

"True. Very true."

The wedding venue was spectacular—a rooftop garden in Manhattan with views of Central Park, decorated with thousands of white roses and twinkling lights. It was elegant, sophisticated, and somehow perfectly captured both sides of Valentina's personality.

And there she was, standing near the altar in the most stunning wedding dress I'd ever seen. The white silk gown was perfectly tailored, classical yet modern, and her signature blue hair was styled in soft waves over one shoulder. She looked absolutely radiant.

I may have stared a moment too long, because suddenly there was a sharp pain in my earlobe.

"Ow! What was that for?" I whispered, rubbing my ear.

"For looking at another woman like that in front of your wife," Rosalind whispered back, but she was trying not to laugh.

"I was just... appreciating the artistry of the dress design."

"Uh-huh. Appreciate it less obviously."

Before I could respond, Valentina spotted us and came gliding over, her face lit up with genuine joy.

"Beckett! Rosalind! And this must be the famous Linda!" She knelt down to Linda's level, her whole demeanor softening. "Aren't you the most beautiful little princess I've ever seen?"