Chapter 8 - The Velvet Horizon
Six months later.
Spring had arrived in Washington D.C., painting the city in vibrant shades of pink cherry blossoms and emerald green lawns.
The grand ballroom of the Hay-Adams Hotel, overlooking the White House and the Washington Monument, was filled with three hundred guests—diplomats, shipping executives, federal prosecutors, and close friends.
Soft string quartets played romantic waltzes beneath massive crystal chandeliers.
At the head table sat Oliver, Finn, and their new little cousin, wearing sharp little black tuxedos with silver bowties.
And on the dance floor, wrapped in the arms of my husband, I floated across the polished hardwood in a breathtaking gown of ivory silk and hand-stitched French lace.
"You're staring," I whispered softly, looking up into Roman’s dark, smoldering eyes.
"I’m admiring my investment," Roman teased softly, his hand resting firm and warm over the small of my back as he spun me effortlessly through a turn.
"Investment?" I laughed, resting my hand against his cheek. "I thought I was a federal witness."
"You were a federal witness," Roman corrected, leaning down to press a soft kiss against my lips. "Then you were my security chief's worst nightmare. Now you are the centerpiece of my life."
The music ended with a gentle flourish, and the crowd broke into warm, enthusiastic applause.
Oliver and Finn came running onto the dance floor, pulling on Roman’s tuxedo jacket and my lace train.
"Mommy! Daddy! It’s time for the cake!" Finn shouted, his face already smeared with white frosting from a stolen cupcake.
Roman smiled, bending down to pick up Finn, while I took Oliver’s hand.
We walked over to the five-tiered wedding cake adorned with edible sugar orchids.
As we stood together as a family, surrounded by light, laughter, and security guards who were now true friends, I looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the monument shining brightly under the clear night sky.
Three years ago, I was a woman running through dark alleys, hiding behind false names, convinced that my life was defined by the secrets I kept.
Tonight, I was Maya Tierney.
I was a mother, a wife, a survivor, and the commander of my own destiny.
Roman wrapped his arm around my waist, pulling me close against his side as we cut the first slice of cake together, our wedding rings gleaming under the crystal lights.
"Happy, Mrs. Tierney?" Roman whispered into my hair.
May you like
I looked at him, then at our boys laughing beside us, and smiled from the very bottom of my soul.
"Completely home, Mr. Tierney."
