“Thanks,” she all but grunted.
Inside the courthouse, she stood beside me, her expression rigid. Her jaw was tight, and her eyes looked ahead.
I handed the papers to her, and she signed them with a defiant calm, as if she was daring me to hear my regret.
I didn’t regret it.
“Mr. and Mrs. Yezhov,” the judge proclaimed, earning claps from Viktor, Ivan, Agatha, and Ruslan. “Congratulations!”
My bride scoffed as we turned around to face our witnesses.
She was now mine. Legally.
Glancing at her beside me as we took pictures, she looked like a flame that refused to be snuffed out.
I’d give her time to process. Marriage wasn’t a walk in the park; it’d take time for her to understand what she had walked into.
As we approached the two cars, she went toward the car she had come in before I took her hand, stopping her.
“We’re riding together now,” I told her.
She looked like she wanted to argue, but she just sighed and let me bring her to the other car. I held her hand as she got inside, gathering the ball of her dress before I had a chance to do it.
As the car rolled out of the parking lot, my eyes took her in for the umpteenth time. From her full pink lips to her slender neck, I wondered what it would feel like to touch her, to hold her close.
She, on the other hand, looked outside the window, as if the trees and plain buildings were too interesting to miss.
“I can walk on my own,” she snapped when I offered my hand as we reached the estate.
“Marielle, I have no plans to pressure you to do anything. But I have no plans of stepping back, either.”
She wordlessly opened the door on her side and got out of the car.
You have no idea, baby.
I had shed my suit and was undoing my tie when my bride stormed past my bedroom door, throwing me a glare as sharp as my knives.
“All my things are no longer in my room! What the hell are you playing at?!” she yelled at me, her hands gathering up her dress, her feet void of shoes.
Now she knows.
“We’re married now. You won’t be sleeping alone anymore. Not in this house.”
She moved toward me, her eyes catching her phone beside mine on the bed and her slippers on the floor. Her steps slowed. Her eyes lingered on the open closet where her clothes were neatly folded and tucked side-by-side with mine, her red dress hanging beside my suits.
I watched her deflate, her hands dropping her dress to the floor.
“So…what now? What do you expect of me?” she questioned, her voice faltering just a fraction.
I stalked toward her until I was right in front of her.
“Nothing you’re not ready to give.”
She craned her neck, and I took another step closer.
I brought my hand to her waist, and the soft breath she released drove me crazy. I brought my lips down on hers. Her lips froze against mine just for a second before she began kissing me back. I pressed her body to mine as her hands went up my chest and around my neck. My tongue pushed past her lips, tasting and devouring.
She stepped back, breaking the kiss.