She smiled through her tears.
"And I vow to remind you every single day that you're mine. And that's all that matters."
I didn't wait for the officiant to give permission. I pulled her to me and kissed her, deep and claiming and full of every promise we'd just made. The crowd erupted in applause and cheers, but I didn't care. All I cared about was the woman in my arms, finally, legally, irrevocably mine.
When we broke apart, the officiant cleared his throat with an amused smile. "Well, I suppose I should make it official. By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."
More cheers. More applause.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, "Mr. and Mrs. Dimitri and Natasha Volkov!"
I swept Natasha up in my arms, making her laugh as I carried her back down the aisle. Poinsettia petals fell from above like snow, and as we passed under the archway decorated with white roses and evergreen, I leaned down to whisper in her ear.
"You're stuck with me now, princess. Forever."
"Good," she whispered back, wrapping her arms around my neck. "That's exactly where I want to be."
The reception was held in the grand ballroom, which had been transformed into something out of a Christmas winter dream. The ceiling was draped with more white fabric and crystals, strings of twinkling lights woven through like stars, creating the illusion of being inside a snow globe on Christmas Eve. More ice sculptures decorated the space, ice bars serving premium vodka and champagne alongside eggnog and peppermint schnapps, an ice fountain that flowed with something that sparkled and shimmered like liquid silver, ice thrones where Natasha and I would sit, each one carved with snowflakes and winter crowns. She insisted on hot cocoa topped with whipped cream and crushed candy canes, spiced apple cider, and winter coffee. Any of which could be spiked with Irish cream, bourbon, or any other alcohol. The scent of cinnamon sticks and orange peel simmering in the cider filled the air.
The tables were covered in white silk with crimson runners embroidered with gold thread in patterns of holly and ivy, each centerpiece a towering arrangement of white roses, redamaryllis, and frosted branches dusted with artificial snow that reached toward the ceiling. Pinecones dipped in gold nestled among the flowers, and strings of cranberries wound through the greenery. Crystal candelabras glowed with real candles that smelled of vanilla and pine, and every place setting included crystal glassware etched with snowflakes and gold-rimmed china. Small gift boxes wrapped in white paper and red velvet ribbon sat at each seat as favors for our guests to take home a piece of our Christmas wedding.
Our cake was a masterpiece—six tiers of white fondant decorated with hand-painted winter scenes of snow-covered forests and Christmas villages, sugar flowers dusted with edible glitter, holly leaves with crimson berries, and edible gold leaf that caught the candlelight. Delicate icicles made of spun sugar dripped from each tier. At the top stood two figurines that actually looked like us. Her in her dress with a tiny Christmas rose in her hand, me in my black tux, my arm possessively around her waist, surrounded by miniature snow-dusted pine trees and a tiny Christmas star above our heads.
We did our first dance to a slowed-down, orchestral version of "Butterflyz" by Alicia Keys. A dark, romantic, intimate choice that she insisted on. She explained to me that it’d been how she felt when I’d claimed her the first time all those years ago. Though she hadn’t believed me at first, something inside her hoped that it was true. I held Natasha close, one hand on her waist, the other cradling her hand against my chest.
"Happy?" I murmured against her temple.
"Deliriously," she whispered back. "This is perfect. You're perfect."
"Not perfect, princess. Just yours."
"Same thing," she said with a soft smile.
When the song ended, I dipped her dramatically, earning applause and wolf whistles from our guests. Then the party truly began.
Georgi gave a speech that had everyone laughing and some people crying—talking about how she'd never seen me smile until Natasha came into my life, how Natasha had "tamed the beast" which earned her a glare from me, and how she'd kill anyone who tried to hurt either of us.
Cori's speech was shorter but equally heartfelt, talking about loyalty, family, and finding someone worth building a life with. I didn't miss his stolen glances at Georgi or how ‘what's her face’ wasn't around anymore.
Food was served as a feast fit for royalty. Filet mignon, lobster tail, truffle risotto, and every decadent thing you could imagine. Wine and champagne flowed freely.
And through it all, I couldn't take my eyes off my wife. The word ‘wife’ settled in my chest like a brand. One I held with the utmost regard.
As midnight approached, we cut the cake together, her hand over mine on the knife. She fed me a bite, then I fed her one, resisting the urge to lick the frosting from her lips in front of everyone.
"Later," she whispered, reading my mind. "You can have me all to yourself later."
"Counting on it, Mrs. Volkov."
Her smile was radiant and it took everything in me not to fuck her right here in front of everybody so she’d know how much I adored her. I vowed from this moment forward that I’d keep making her eyes light up the way they were right now. It was the key to the smile she wore effortlessly.
As the night wore on, snow began to fall outside the massive windows—real snow this time, blanketing the grounds in white. Like everything else about this day, it was perfect. At one point,I found Natasha standing by one of the windows, watching the snow fall, her crown still perfectly in place, her dress glowing in the soft light. I came up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulled her back against my chest.
"Thank you," I murmured into her hair.
"For what?"
"For saying yes. For this. For being mine."
