Page 16 of Bound in Matrimony

But with Knox, it's different. He doesn't want to diminish me or contain me. He wants to possess me, yes—but in doing so, he's somehow made me more myself than I've ever been.

I shut off the water and wrap myself in one of the plush hotel towels, padding back into the bedroom. The evidence of our wedding night is everywhere—my torn lingerie on the floor, the rumpled sheets, a champagne bottle in a bucket of melted ice that we never got around to opening. Knox had more intoxicating things in mind.

I remember the moment he transformed from demanding lover to something else—something deeper, more vulnerable. When he told me he belonged to me. Only me. The admission had seemed torn from him, raw and unplanned. Coming from a man who calculates every move, who strategizes ten steps ahead in business and in life, that unguarded moment of honesty was perhaps the most powerful aphrodisiac of all.

Moving to the window, I look out at the Manhattan skyline. The city is fully awake, people hurrying below like miniature figures in a diorama. None of them know that up here, Seraphina Vale ceased to exist last night. In her place stands SeraphinaVance—claimed, possessed, and utterly ruined for any other man.

The door to the suite opens, and I turn to see Knox enter carrying a tray. He's wearing only the pants from last night's tuxedo, hanging low on his hips, his chest and feet bare. The sight of him—powerful, confident, mine—makes my breath catch.

"You should be in bed." His eyes darken as they rake over me, taking in the towel, my wet hair, the visible marks he left on my skin. "I wanted to watch you wake up."

"I needed a shower." I don't move from my spot by the window, enjoying the predatory way he stalks toward me. "You were quite thorough last night."

His smile is slow, satisfied. "Not thorough enough if you could walk to the bathroom." He sets the tray down on a nearby table without looking at it, his attention fixed entirely on me.

I should feel self-conscious under that intense stare, but instead, I feel powerful. Desired. Essential. "What did you bring me?"

"Breakfast." He reaches me, one hand coming up to tilt my chin. "But I find myself hungry for something else."

Before I can respond, his mouth claims mine, softer than last night but no less possessive. He tastes of coffee and something sweet, and I melt against him, the towel loosening between us.

"My wife," he murmurs against my lips, the words reverent and possessive at once. "Do you have any idea what those words do to me?"

"Show me," I challenge, dropping the towel entirely.

His sharp inhale is followed by hands that lift me effortlessly, carrying me back to the bed. This time, when he lays me down, his touch is different—still hungry, still commanding, but with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.

"Look at what I did to you," he says, tracing a mark on my inner thigh. There's no remorse in his voice—only satisfaction. "Everyone who sees you will know you're thoroughly taken."

"Only you see these particular marks," I remind him, gasping as his fingers trail higher.

"True." He lowers his head, pressing his lips to a bruise on my breast. "But they'll see the rest of it—in your eyes, in the way you move. They'll know you've been claimed by someone who will never let you go."

As his mouth continues its journey down my body, I realize with perfect clarity that I've been ruined for anyone else—and I wouldn't have it any other way. Knox Vance has remade me in fire and pleasure, marking me as his from the inside out.

And as he brings me to the edge of ecstasy again, my new name falling from my lips in a breathless cry, I know that Seraphina Vale truly no longer exists. In her place is a woman who has found something she never knew she was looking for—complete surrender to the one man powerful enough to handle it.

I am Seraphina Vance now. His. Forever.

And I've never felt more completely myself.

Chapter Nine

Knox

The first lightof dawn paints her skin gold where it peeks from beneath the tangled sheets. I've been awake for hours, unable to look away from the miracle sleeping beside me. Seraphina Vance. My wife. Mine, finally, in the eyes of the law and everyone who matters. She sighs in her sleep, one delicate hand curled near her face, the platinum and emerald on her finger catching the light. I've built an empire worth billions, but this woman sleeping in my bed is the only acquisition that's ever truly mattered. And even now, with her name legally changed and her body thoroughly claimed, it's not enough. I need more.

The hunger that drove me from the streets to the boardroom—that relentless need for security, for permanence—doesn't recognize the sanctity of marriage certificates or wedding bands. It demands constant reinforcement, total possession. My fingers hover above her skin, not quite touching. I don't want to wake her yet. She needs rest after the marathon of our wedding night.

I ease out of bed, padding silently to the suite's private office. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcase Manhattan waking up,but I barely notice the view as I pull my laptop from my briefcase. There's work to be done. Plans to set in motion. Ways to bind Seraphina to me so completely that separation would be impossible.

Some might call it obsession. Maybe it is. But when you've grown up with nothing, when you've watched everything you care about disappear, you learn to hold on tight to what matters. And nothing—no one—has ever mattered like she does.

The marriage is just the beginning. A foundation. Now I need to build the fortress.

I make the first call at exactly 6 AM. My lawyer answers on the first ring, as I knew he would.

"I need the paperwork we discussed. All of it. Today."

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