Page 169 of Desperate Crimes
The Volkovs and the Furys.
Our clan.
Our empire.
Our future.
And when I finally reach him, standing beneath a garland-draped arch of olive branches and white orchids, Nico turns to me like there’s no one else in the world.
There isn’t.
Not for me.
His blue eyes rake over every inch of me, pausing at the gentle curve of our child nestled beneath silk and lace.
His chest rises, thick and tight with emotion, the muscles beneath his white shirt flexing with the effort not to pull me straight into his arms.
“You ready to marry me again, Princess?”he murmurs, ignoring the officiant, ignoring the crowd, speaking just to me.
I blink up at him, heart cracking wide open at the heat in his gaze.
At the way he loves me like it’s oxygen.Like he needs me to breathe.
“I’m ready,” I whisper, voice trembling.
And I mean it.
With everything I am.
His hand closes around mine.Strong.Sure.Steady.
“Then let’s do this.”
We say our vows with the sea behind us and our child between us.
And when he kisses me, it’s not chaste.
It’s not polite.
It’s Nico Fury—my monster, my myth, my man—claiming me all over again in front of God and everyone.
Forever.
And always.
