Page 85 of The Bratva's Nanny

His friends called him Lukie.

The bullies called him Hamster.

He called me ‘babe’, and I called him Luke.

Looking back, our relationship should have gotten a space in the yearbook as the “Worst Companionship Ever” at East High. His idea of fun was math, Mario Kart 8 Deluxe, and counting birds in the sky—no offense to Mario Kart 8 Deluxe.

He was nice. But being nice wasn’t enough.

We had nothing in common, not even rhythm. Having sex with him for the first time left me scarred for life. He’d pushed his head down the wrong hole.

My eighteen-year-old self didn’t accept his sweet, prom-dance, “Will you be my girlfriend?” proposal because I liked him. I accepted it because I needed a bounce back after Noah fucking Jepton tried to ruin me at school. I needed a sort of life raft to keep my head afloat. And dating Luke made him the star.

Which left me with a punctured life raft and an anchor dragging me deeper down the salty ocean of life while the rest of them were having swell days.

My point was, I accepted it; I had always had a bit of a weird taste in men. I was drawn to the bad boys, the ones with a little edge, a little danger. And, of course, the boring ones, too. It was like I had a radar for finding the ones who were a little rough around the edges, the ones who needed a little fixing.

But Roman…oh, Roman.

He was the ultimate—the one who took the cake.

Meeting a man like him should have made me run for the hills, but no, I was drawn to him like a moth to a flame. And yet, despite his tough exterior, he turned out to be the best of them all.

He was the one I was meant to be with all along. The one who made me feel like I was home, like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

In the end, it was him who proved to be the best decision I ever made, the one who showed me that even the most unlikely person could turn out to be the love of your life.

Standing now on the altar, dressed in the most expensive white bridal gown, which he’d purchased, I gazed into his eyes, my heart swelling with excitement and happiness. We had decided to marry quickly, only a couple of months after he proposed. And now, here we were, exchanging our vows.

As he finished speaking the words that would bind us together forever, his eyes locked on mine, and my heart skipped a beat.

The blue in his eyes was crystal clear, happy, and holding so much adoration for his bride.

“You may kiss the bride.”

He took a step closer, his face inches from mine. I could feel his warm breath on my skin, sending welcomed shivers to my toes.

And then, he kissed me.

Gently, softly, with a sweetness that melted my heart. It was a kiss that spoke of our forever.

I cupped his cheeks and whispered, “You do deserve happy-ever-afters, my love.”

And he smiled like a man who’d won all the trophies in a competition. “I know.” His voice was gruff with unexpressed emotion. “My happy-ever-after is standing right here.”

***

We made our way to the reception hall, and Roman’s family was warm and welcoming. Especially Polly.

“I’m so glad you’re my mommy now,” she squealed and ran circles around my gown. Then, she babbled her way to Uncle Ed, talking about how many things I was going to teach her: brownies, pancakes, and a lot of other things that got lost in her excitement.

“Sure, sure. But you should let her enjoy her time with Daddy now.” Eduard tapped the tip of her nose, and we watched her go with him, playing with his tie and laughing at everything he said.

After her dad, Uncle Eduard was third on her list of favorite persons.

I came second.

They laughed and danced together and bumped into someone Roman did not want to see.