Inked Athena (Litvinov Bratva Book 2)
Inked Athena: Chapter 36

The sheep look like cotton balls scattered across the misty fields below. I turn from the window and look again at the chaos engulfing the castle feast room. Just as she’s been doing since the first hint of dawn this morning, Mrs. Morris barks orders at the staff like a four-foot-eleven general commanding troops into battle.

“The linens must be pressed twice, Callum! And for heaven’s sake, Malcolm, polish those doorknobs until I see my reflection. If I spy so much as a hint of a fingerprint, so help me God…”

I hide my smile. The castle’s already gleaming, but our housekeeper won’t rest until every surface sparkles like the diamonds Sam gave me last week.

Speaking of my fiancé…

I descend the spiral staircase and replace him at the breakfast table, phone in hand, dark brows furrowed in concentration. Nothing abnormal there. But his jaw twitches when I enter, and he checks his Patek Philippe three times in the thirty seconds I spend standing in the doorway, shamelessly admiring him.

“Important meeting?” I slide into the chair beside him, stealing a piece of bacon from his plate.

“Mm.” He doesn’t look up from his screen, but his free hand replaces my thigh under the table, squeezing gently.

“Must be. Mrs. Morris is treating today like the Queen’s coming for tea.”

“Mrs. Morris is… enthusiastic.” His lips quirk. “She takes initiative.”

“‘Initiative.’“ I snort. “Is that what we’re calling this not-so-covert military operation?”

Sam finally meets my eyes, and the tenderness there makes my heart stutter. “You deserve the best, krasavitsa.”

“I already have it. Though if you’d like to tell me what the hell is going on, I really wouldn’t mind that at all.” I lean in to kiss him, but before I can Mrs. Morris’s voice rings out again.

“—no, no! The flowers must be arranged precisely as I showed you. No, not like that⁠—”

I sigh and pinch Sam’s chin between my thumb and forefinger so he has no choice but to look at me. “One more time—and I really am begging this time—please, for all that is good and holy, tell me what is happening.”

Sam grins and starts to give me the same answer he’s given me for the last week, ever since the dinner party disaster, when he started dropping hints about a great “surprise” that will “blow me away.” “You’ll⁠—”

I press a finger to Sam’s lips. “If you say ‘you’ll see’ one more time, I swear I’ll⁠—”

The familiar deep woof echoing across the castle grounds stops my heart mid-threat.

That bark.

I know that bark.

I’m out the door before the bark has even stopped echoing, nearly face-planting on the front gate’s steps in my rush. The Scottish morning mist parts like a curtain as I sprint across the drive, my heart thundering against my ribs.

One black Range Rover has already stopped in front of the courtyard fountain. Another crawls through the gates and eases into park behind it.

Suddenly, I’m that seven-year-old girl again, watching life unfold in slow motion. But this time, instead of fear coiling in my gut, it’s pure joy exploding within.

And then something actually explodes through the rear door of the first car.

Two somethings, actually. A pair of furry black shadows, each slobbering in their effort to outrace the other. I’m on my knees, ready to greet them, but there’s no such thing as “ready” for what happens next.

Rufus and Ruby hit me like the runaway trains that they are. We flop backwards onto the soft sand of the driveway, a tangled mess of limbs and tails and tongues and me laughing again and again as tears I can’t stop pour unchecked down my cheeks.

“Ru! Ru!” I keep crying out again and again. They whine, bark, squeal, squeak, and when they can’t figure out how else to express their happiness, they run frantic circles before jumping on me to start the process all over again.

Through my happy tears, I spot two more figures emerging from the Range Rover. My heart, already full to bursting, somehow expands even more.

“Nova, darling!” Grams’s voice carries across the courtyard.

Then I’m up and running, and I collide with Grams almost as hard as Rufus and Ruby collided with me.

“Be careful with her!” Hope scolds, hovering like a mother hen as I squeeze my grandmother in the hardest hug I can muster.

Grams waves off her helping hand. “Oh, hush. I may be old, but I’m not made of glass.” Her eyes sparkle with their familiar mischief as she leans away, though she keeps her hands on my elbows so I can’t go too far. She takes in the castle looming behind me. “Though I must say, this place looks like it’s made of something even more precious.”

I crash back into them both, wrapping my arms around them as Rufus and Ruby dance circles around us, barking their joy to the hills.

“Holy shit, Nova, you really undersold this place.” Hope’s practically vibrating with excitement. “You literally live in Hogwarts. Are there secret passages? Please tell me there are secret passages. And dungeons. There have to be dungeons.”

“Language, young lady,” Grams chides, but she’s beaming as she cups my face in her weathered hands. “Let me look at you, sweetheart. My goodness, you are more beautiful than ever.”

I can barely see through my tears, but when I turn to share their view of Castle Moorbeath, I catch a glimpse of Sam standing on the steps, hands in his pockets, satisfaction written in every line of his body.

He did this. He brought my family to me, gave me back the pieces of my heart I thought I’d have to live without.

The magnitude of what this means—what he means to me—sets the waterworks free all over again. Just when I thought I couldn’t possibly love him more, he goes and proves me wrong.

Mrs. Morris’s voice rings out from somewhere inside, probably having an aneurysm over the dogs tracking mud through her pristine halls, but for once, I couldn’t care less about the chaos.

I have my family back.

We start the slow trek up the stairs to meet Samuil at the top.

“Serena,” he remarks coolly as he kisses her cheek, “you look well. I hope the travel wasn’t too strenuous.”

“Oh, it was just awful,” interjects Hope, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Private jets and in-flight caviar service are just pure torture, you know?”

Myles comes trotting up from behind the wheel of one of the Range Rovers, grinning from ear to ear. “If you hated that, wait until I show you the three-thousand-thread-count silk sheets we’ll be sleeping—I mean, you’ll be sleeping on…”

I roll my eyes, laugh, and smack both Hope and Myles on the shoulder simultaneously. “For God’s sake, save that for when I’m out of hearing range.”

Mr. Morris materializes from nowhere with Rufus and Ruby trotting at his heels like they’ve known him their whole lives. “Lords and ladies, it would be my pleasure to take you on a brief tour of the grounds as the staff conveys your luggage to your quarters. If you’d be so kind as to follow me…”

He takes us on a circuit through the main parts of the castle, chest puffed with pride. He and Mrs. Morris have really gone above and beyond: custom-made beds for the dogs, a luxurious spread of bath products ready for Hope to use in the clawfoot tub, and at the end of proceedings, a tea service awaiting us in the library, with steam spiraling from the top of the china cups.

Grams and Mrs. Morris hit it off immediately, gossiping like the two old hens that they are. Hope and Myles disappear so he can “assist her with her luggage,” which is an absolutely raunchy euphemism if I’ve ever heard one. And the dogs go gallivanting off to chase sheep under Mr. Morris’s supervision. Even through the thick castle walls, their joy-filled barks are audible.

I’m still floating on cloud nine when Sam and I finally retire to our tower bedroom post-dinner. The happiness bubbles through my veins like champagne, making me giddy even hours after everyone’s settled in.

Moonlight streams through the arrow-slit windows, painting silver stripes across our bed. I roll to face Sam, overwhelmed by the depth of emotion threatening to spill over.

“Thank you,” I whisper, tears pricking my eyes. “Having them all here… it makes everything feel real.”

Sam’s arm slides around me, his large hand settling protectively over the slight swell of my belly. His touch grounds me, anchors me to this perfect moment.

“The castle needed more life in it,” he admits, voice soft in the darkness. “More chaos. More family.”

I feel his smile against my hair as Ruby’s excited barking echoes up from the grounds. She’s probably spotted the foxes that like to hunt near the sheep pen at night. Hope’s bright laughter floats up from somewhere below, followed by Myles’s deeper chuckle.

“Though perhaps slightly less chaos than Rufus trying to herd the sheep tomorrow,” Sam adds dryly.

I laugh, burrowing deeper into his warmth. “He’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Like owner, like dog?”

I pinch his side in retaliation, but can’t help grinning. “I’d say you’re the one who needs herding, Mr. Litvinov.”

Instead of arguing, he captures my mouth in a kiss that steals my breath and melts my bones. His hand slides lower, and suddenly, I’m very grateful for the thick stone walls between us and our guests.

“Show me how well you can handle an unruly beast,” he murmurs against my lips.

“I’ve got a better idea,” I whisper back. “Why don’t you run wild for a change?”