The estate was alive that morning, the kind of life that wrapped around the walls like sunlight streaming through sheer curtains. Laughter bounced off the grand hall, soft music floating from hidden speakers, blending with the clinking of champagne glasses and the gentle hum of conversation. Staff moved quietly in the background, ensuring everything was just right, but the real star of the show was the little toddler at the center of it all.
Little Leo, chubby and barefoot in his navy-blue overalls and a crisp white shirt, wobbled across the polished marble floor with all the determination he could muster. His arms flailed as he tried to keep his balance, but his face lit up with pure joy as he made his way toward his father, waiting at the end of the path. Nikita had his arms wide open, a rare smile softening his otherwise sharp features.
Even in that moment, he looked a bit intimidating, dressed in a dark suit that hugged his broad frame perfectly, a subtle scar tracing his jawline, a constant reminder of his last encounter with my father. But when Leo tumbled into his chest with a delighted squeal, the cruel Bratva boss seemed to disappear. What remained was a father, laughing with unfiltered joy as he lifted his son into the air and spun him around once, then twice.
Across the room, I watched, my glass of champagne untouched in my hand. My red silk dress accentuated my curves, hugging me in all the right places. Around my neck was a diamond jewel sparkling in the soft light— a gift from my husband. But my focus wasn’t on myself—it was on them: the two most important men in my life.
My breath hitched as Leo wrapped his little arms around his father’s neck and planted a slobbery kiss on his cheek. Nik chuckled, pressing his forehead against the boy’s, his voice low and tender with a sprinkle of sheer affection. My lips curled into a genuine smile as I watched them—father and son sharing a wonderful moment. Nik was saying something to the boy in their native Russian. Although I couldn’t catch the words, they resonated in my heart like a sweet melody.
The walls of the grand hall, once filled with orders, footsteps, and the weight of power, now held a different kind of memory. Balloons in soft pastels floated in the corners, and a handmade banner reading “Leo’s First” hung above the fireplace. Olga had insisted on making it herself, a small token of her love for little Leo. A small cake, adorned with blue frosting and tiny fondant decorations, sat on the table by the window, waiting to be celebrated.
Our guests—friends and acquaintances of the Tarasovs—filled the room, lingering in groups. Their soft laughter and the occasional clinking of glasses added to the ambience of the space. It wasn’t just a celebration; it was more than that. It was a mark of how far we’d come.
A year had gone by already, and it all just felt like yesterday when I got entangled in the mess that altered the course of my life. Olga had asked me to trust the process, to trust her, and that things would fall in place at the right time. It was hard to make sense of what she was saying back then, even though deep down I wanted it to be true. My fear had stood in the way of my faith. But here we were, a year later, and things couldn’t have turned out better.
My eyes met Nik’s across the sea of guests, and in their depths, I saw the man the rest of the world still feared, the cold and ruthless mafia boss. However, beneath the surface—underneath the steel—was a warmth that only I had been allowed to know and explore.
He walked across the room, cradling Leo in his arms, and when he finally paused in front of me, he gently kissed my forehead, saying nothing at all.
This was our new reality now.
In this brief, beautiful moment filled with laughter and warmth, I let myself believe that indeed things had turned out better than I had thought. It was okay to consider myself the luckiest woman alive, the most loved, cherished, and adored.
Scarlett had said, “I told you so” on the day Nik had officially made a wife out of me. Our wedding was small but classic, with limited guests, strictly by invitation. I had doubted the possibility of finding happiness in this household, and with good reason. But now, it was hard to remember the times when these same walls were nothing but the prison that held me captive.
How could something so bitter and sour turn out to be so sweet and wonderful?
Yes, I lost the Romano name, but soon after, I picked up another, an even more powerful one.
Tarasov.
Alessia Tarasov.
That was my name now.
Even though it hurt me like hell that my father had disowned me for choosing my happiness over everything else, I still understood his pain. He couldn’t fathom how his only daughter could betray him by falling in love with his worst enemy. I got that. He was too angry to even consider my feelings, but then again, that was classic Dante Romano; it was always about him, his name, and reputation. It was never about us, his children.
What dad didn’t know was that he was the only one in the family who had refused to speak to me. My brothers and Uncle Roberto had been in touch with me ever since—they even sent birthday gifts for my son. Of course, all of this was done under the radar because we couldn’t have Dad flaring up and making mountains out of mole hills. Again.
They understood my plight, what I had to endure as a Romano who had no say over her own life. My brother, Bruno, believed that I was the lucky one since I managed to cut myself off from the rest of the family. At least, I got to live my life the way I wanted, unlike he and Marco, who still had to live under our father’s shadow.
They’d kept me informed on how bitter he had become and how even the smallest things could upset him to the point where he now threw tantrums like a child. Dad was a proud man—a really proud man—and that pride was the obstacle between him and me.
To my father, this was some sort of game, and I was the trophy he’d lost to the man who almost ruined him. He couldn’t find it in his stone-cold heart to let go and let the past remain in the past. No. He’d rather hold on to his pain, to his pride. The Romanos had finally moved back to Italy for good this time, away from the chaos and drama they left behind.
As much as this separation from my family hurt me, I knew it was for the best. Bruno was right; I was the lucky one. I dodged a bullet and took hold of my own life, doing what I wanted. I was content this way, free from the childhood trauma I suffered trying to live up to my father’s expectations. The pressure was so overwhelming that I didn’t know what true liberty and freedom were until I had the opportunity to make a choice.
Choice, a concept that was once alien to me, once a luxury that even my father’s money could not afford, was now my reality. How ironic.
I’d always loved nursing, intrigued by the idea of saving lives, not taking them. It was my deepest ambition, one that I thought would never see the light of day. I buried this and the dream of owning my own business—a boutique—all because a predefined path had already been set out for me.
Dad’s influence over his children’s career options was so strong and frightening that all we knew was law. Nothing more. His decision was final, leaving no room for arguments or suggestions. Dad’s dream of being legally untouchable—of building an army of soldiers in law to protect his empire—blinded him from seeing the damage his selfishness was causing his children. He wouldn’t even entertain any discussion aimed at attempting to help him view things from a different perspective.
More than once, he’d had serious quarrels with his brother. Why? Simply because Uncle Roberto was of the opinion that children should be allowed to choose their own path and destiny. Dad was rigid, with a stony heart, and he ruled his household with an iron fist.
About a year ago, when my husband asked what I wanted out of life, I froze for a second. No one, aside from Uncle Roberto, had asked me that before, and so my brain was blank for a minute.
Nik and I had a long conversation about how I’d always loved nursing and my dream to own a boutique. I told him my fears and how my trauma could stand in the way of my success. All my life, the law was all that I knew; changing to something else now felt like a huge challenge.
I still remembered his words as if it were just yesterday. He said then, “It’s okay to be afraid; we all feel fear at some point in our lives. And trust me, change can be difficult, but I’m here with you…every step of the way.”
A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as his voice echoed in my head, reminding me that I wasn’t alone in this journey of finding my purpose. We agreed that I’d nurse our child for at least a year after he was born and then enroll in a physical or online nursing class.
In all honesty, I was afraid to start life all over again, to venture into something new, a line different from the original one carved out for me. But I was lucky to have a husband who had my best interests at heart, a man who loved and adored me with every fiber of his being. Treading this path would not be easy, but at least, I was certain that he’d be by my side every step of the way.
For me, no assurance was better than that.
As expected, Helen Orlov was furious that Nik had chosen me over her. Her family even threatened to cut all ties with the Tarasovs and withdraw from any businesses they did together. Hector Orlov, Helen’s Father, had accused my husband of humiliating his daughter and bringing shame upon their family name. Therefore, he threatened to make the Tarasovs pay for the emotional damage Nik’s choice had caused his daughter.
My dear husband, on the other hand, wasn’t one to take threats so lightly. But instead of resorting to violence and chaos, Nik chose to try a different approach. He called for a meeting with the Orlovs and their representatives, where he made a business offer so lucrative that they couldn’t ignore it.
I didn’t bother with the details because my husband, in his wisdom, had found a subtle way to salvage the alliance between both families. And he did that without violence, without bloodshed. I was super proud of him, of the man he’d become.
To the outside world, Nik was still the same brute, the strategic thinker who everyone feared. His name still struck panic in the hearts of those who considered themselves his enemies. His associates and business partners knew better than to attempt to cross him in any way possible.
Nikita Tarasov wouldn’t retaliate immediately. No. My husband would wait; he’d spend weeks planning an attack. And when he’d finally execute his plans, those unfortunate enough to be his victims would live to regret it if they got to live at all.
With me, he was different—nicer, calmer, and even more affectionate. He’d learned to strike a balance between his work and private life, and he got so good at it. The man at the office was not the man at home; nevertheless, it was the same person. He always attributed this change to me, saying that I brought out the best in him, the version of himself that he hadn’t known existed.
However, he wasn’t the only one who had changed. I had, too, and for the best. He also brought out a different version of me—the version that had long been buried. He showed me that there was more to life than what I knew, what was embedded in my head since I learned to read. Because of him, I was ready to face reality, to chase my dreams, and try out my plans. It didn’t matter how many times I failed; I’d always get back up, especially with my husband by my side.
Later in the evening, after the celebration was over and all the guests had left, little Leo needed to sleep, and that was where I came in. In his dimly lit nursery, I held my boy in my arms, rocking him gently, eyes fixed on his cute face. His lashes fluttered once, twice, then stilled against his cheeks. The soft lullaby playing from the small speaker on the shelf was one I’d learned from my mother—Italian, old as time.
With a small smile on my lips, I ran my hands through his honey-blonde hair, brushing it back as he nestled into my shoulders with a tiny sigh.
Little Leo was warm. Solid. And most importantly, mine.
I drew a deep, long breath and carefully lowered him into the crib, my heart squeezing a little when he stirred. However, I watched his hand find the edge of his blanket, and he settled again. He was innocent and peaceful.
The warm lights cast a soft glow over his round face, and looking right at him, I caught hints of his father in his features—the set of his jaw and the sharp line of his nose. But that smile, when it came, even in his sleep…that was mine. I withdrew from the sleeping child, unable to suppress the smile on my lips. “Goodnight, my little one. Sweet dreams.” I blew him a kiss before leaving the room.
The door creaked gently as I stepped into the hallway. Our bedroom was just across, but Nikita was already there, leaning against the doorway, arms folded, watching me.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft and gentle.
“Hey,” I replied, a bright smile tugging at my lips as I approached him, rolling my neck in a massaging motion.
“You look exhausted,” he teased, pulling me to himself.
“Exhausted is an understatement at this point,” I replied, melting into his warm embrace, his possessive arms wrapping around me.
He chuckled, slipping his hands into my hair from the back. Before I could make another statement, a soft moan escaped my lips, my tension gradually dissipating into thin air. His fingers massaged my scalp, his signature therapy, helping ease my stress.
“Damn, that’s so relaxing,” I whispered under my breath, inhaling the mix of his sweat and cologne. “I needed that,” I added, referring to the scalp massage, or was it a head massage?
He slid his fingers down my face, and with his thumbs, Nik rubbed my temples, pushing them in just enough to help me relax. “You need to rest,” he said. “You’ve had a long day.” I lifted my chin, his eyes boring into mine.
“We both have,” I replied, exhaling sharply with my hands thrown around his neck.
We stood like that for a while, swaying slightly in the silence. Then, he leaned in, brushing my hair back to press a kiss just below my ear. “Our boy has your soul,” he whispered. “Gentle, calm, but fierce.”
My cheeks flushed, and my lips parted slightly. “I wonder who he got that last part from.”
Nik chuckled, his fingers caressing my hair. “He has the same fire I see in your eyes, Alessia—the fire that first drew me in the first time I saw you.”
I looked up at him, his eyes sparkling with mirth, and my heart melted with each passing second. I lifted my heels off the floor and stood balanced on my toes as I reached for his lips, claiming them. Our kiss was slow, passionate, unhurried—like we had all the time in the world. And we did.
His strong, big palms framed my face, his kiss stealing the very breath from my lungs. It wasn’t about fire or hunger. No. It was something deeper than either of us could fathom. Our connection was strong, and nowadays, I could not even imagine living a life without him.
As strange as this drastic change was, we made it happen—the two of us. Collectively, we made sure this life of bliss and happiness was a possibility. Nik’s hands dropped to my waist, and gently, he pulled me to himself. Our tongues did a slow, passionate dance in our mouths as our heads tilted to the side, moving in sync to the rhythm of our passion.
At that moment, I wasn’t the daughter of a disgraced mafia boss, nor was he the ruthless Bratva leader who ruled with an iron fist. We were just two adults, so full of love and gratitude for how our story turned out in the end.
Interesting how something that started as a hostage situation ended up as a blissful union between two completely different individuals. Nik and I were stark contrasts of each other, but I guessed that, unlike terms, indeed attracted. He often told me from time to time that I was the light in his dark, the better half that completed him.
However, as strange as this might sound, Nik was the dark in my light. Together, we created perfect harmony, a perfect match that would, in turn, create the kind of home worth raising a child in.
***
The next day, my husband decided to keep me in the dark about where we were going. He simply asked me to dress up and follow him to the city—no further explanations. Nothing.
Nik drove us across town, and soon, the vehicle glided through a narrow street lined with old buildings and boutiques with elegant window displays.
He pulled up in front of a majestic building, its façade looming over us with large glass windows glinting in the sunlight. Nik killed the engine and turned to face me, his lips curled into a mischievous grin.
I pulled my head back, squinting my eyes in surprise. “Okay…you’re being cryptic right now.” I laughed lightly.
“How so?” he asked, eyes never leaving mine.
“Well, you brought me shopping in the middle of the week,” I said, adding almost immediately. “We don’t go shopping in the middle of the week.”
His grin grew even more mischievous. “Who says we’re here to shop?” Nik opened the driver’s door and said, “Come on.”
I had no idea what was going on, but I trusted him. My heart was pounding like a drum in my chest, and my smile was retained as I wondered what he had up his sleeves this time. I closed the door behind me, my gaze fixed on him as he headed toward the building in front of us.
He stopped at the sleek glass door at the entrance and withdrew a key. My eyes shifted to the gold lettering above the entrance, but I was only able to see the first and the last letters “A…O.” This was because the name was sealed with a black leather, torn at both ends.
He twisted the key, and the door unlocked.
Nik pushed it open and sketched a small bow. “After you.”
Once inside, I stood at the entrance, scanning the space with slightly raised eyebrows. Sunlight filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, catching on the pale wood floors and white shelves that lined the walls.
The space was empty, waiting, but beautiful.
This was the kind of place you only saw in magazines. I moved here and there, turning in a slow circle, taking it all in. Mirrors framed in gold, a small counter near the back, and a changing area with velvet curtains were still wrapped in plastic. Deep down in my heart, I knew what this place looked like, but I needed him to explain. I was afraid to hope, to jump to conclusions, even though I already had a clue what was actually going on.
I looked at him, breathless, my pulse spiking to mirror the anticipation on my face. “Nik, what is this place?”
He cleared his throat, his eyes darting across the opulent interior as he stepped forward, extending his hand. This suspense was killing me, and the longer he was quiet, the faster my heart beat.
Finally, he spoke, handing me a bunch of jingling keys. “It’s yours.”
My eyes widened, brows rising reflectively. “M…mine…? I stuttered, my voice trailing off in shock.
“Yours,” he said. “For your boutique.”
I felt my tear glands charging up, my nose flaring with emotions.
Nik brushed his hand over my shoulder, his smile charming and sweet. “You’ve always talked about owning one. Now, you do.” He paused for a moment, letting me bask in this big reveal before continuing, “You can start here—build a name for yourself while still studying nursing.”
My heart was swelling with joy, pure and undiluted.
“This….” He gestured to the space, lit up by a gorgeous chandelier that must have cost a fortune. “This is yours…all of it.”
Tears came fast, blurring my vision as my hand flew to my chest; I was so touched by his thoughtfulness. An abrupt chuckle broke through my lips. “Nikita…you…you didn’t have to.” My voice cracked under the weight of the emotions flooding my heart.
Slowly, I stepped forward and slipped into his arms.
“I wanted to,” he said softly. “You deserve all of this and more.”
I withdrew from him and peered at the interior again, this time with fresh eyes. I saw shelves filled with curated pieces and imagined soft music playing from speakers, while women from all walks of life browsed the racks. I turned to the entrance and pictured the bell over the door chiming as someone walked in.
I saw life.
My future.
I saw it all within a fraction of a second. It flashed before my eyes, and I loved the glimpse that I caught of it.
I stared into his face, my heartbeat steadying by the second, anxiety and shock replaced by a sense of calm. “Thank you,” I murmured, my tone dripping with gratitude. “I didn’t see this coming. This is the best gift I’ve ever received.” I went silent for a moment. “But it’s more than just a gift; it’s something that I’ll cherish for as long as I live.”
“This is a new beginning for us, Alessia,” he replied with the same tone, his eyes locking with mine. “And I’m ready to start over with you, to turn to the next page of our story and see what’s in store for us.”
Indeed, it was a new beginning—the beginning of a life I was going to cherish and live to the fullest. Two of my biggest dreams were now in the process of becoming a reality, all thanks to my husband. This was not how I expected my life to turn out at twenty-two, but I couldn’t have planned this better.
All the pain, heartaches, and torment that I had to endure led me to this very moment—the moment I felt the most loved and adored. Things would have been better if Dad hadn’t chosen his pride over his daughter’s happiness. Nevertheless, I was where I was supposed to be and with whom I was supposed to be.
“I love you, Nikita Tarasov,” I declared, my voice low and genuine.
“And I love you…Alessia Tarasov,” he replied, his voice smooth and tender. “Owner of my heart and the brand, ‘Alessia & Co.’” His lips twisted into a proud grin.
A and O—those were the letters I saw outside the building; the first and the last letters of the brand name.
“Alessia and Co.” My smile broadened. “It has a nice ring to it.” I laughed, butterflies flying in my belly.
I had never felt more complete. I had my son, my husband, and now, a future that I could claim as my own. I understood now why Scarlett was so happy and so full of life the first time I saw her after her wedding. She’d said that the Tarasov brothers weren’t as terrible as I thought they were and that they didn’t joke with their own. There was no lie in that.
She spoke the absolute truth, a truth just a few were privileged to know.
I loved my husband more than words could express, and I was also proud to be a Tarasov. I was proud to be known as Mrs. Alessia Tarasov.
*****
THE END
