She turned in my arms, looking up at me with those eyes that held my entire world.
"Thank you for asking," she whispered. "For choosing me. For giving me this fairy tale."
I cupped her face in my hands. "You deserve every fairy tale, princess. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life making sure you get them. Merry Christmas, princess."
“Merry Christmas, Dmitri.”
I kissed her then, soft and sweet and full of promises, as snow fell outside and our guests celebrated around us. This was it. This was everything.
My beautiful, twisted, perfect love story with the only woman who'd ever made me want to be more than a monster.
My wife.
My Natasha.
Forever.
Dmitri
The villa was isolated, perched on a cliff overlooking the Amalfi Coast, surrounded by nothing but rock, sea, and silence. No neighbors. No staff after sunset. Just us.
Exactly how I wanted it.
Natasha stood on the balcony in a white silk slip that clung to every curve, the Mediterranean wind whipping her silky dark brown hair around her face. My wife. The word still felt new on my tongue, sharp and possessive in a way that made my chest tight.
I moved behind her, caging her against the railing with my arms. She leaned back into me, trusting, and I inhaled the scent of her—jasmine and salt air and something uniquely hers.
"It's beautiful," she murmured.
"You're beautiful," I corrected, lips brushing her ear. "Everything else is just background noise."
She turned in my arms, those dark eyes meeting mine. There was something in her gaze tonight that posed as a challenge,maybe. Or permission. Either way, it made the darkness in me stir. I expected her to give in to me more as time passed, as trust built. But I never factored in how I’d feel when receiving it. The more she leaned into us, the more obsessive I became over her. To the point where I didn’t trust myself not to go off the handle if someone even thought ill things about her. Don’t let them breathe in a negative manner, and I’d probably remove their jugular immediately. It would happen far away from this pristine white that I was falling in love with seeing her in. It glorified how perfect I thought she was. How fucking beautiful and angelic. Even the pale gloss that she wore on her lips made me hard. White was definitely her color.
"What are you thinking?" she asked softly.
I traced my thumb along her jawline, tilting her face up. "I'm thinking about all the ways I'm going to ruin you tonight, Mrs. Volkov."
Her breath hitched. "Ruin me?"
"Completely." I gripped her throat gently, feeling her pulse jump beneath my palm. "I'm going to mark every inch of you. Make sure you feel me for days. Make sure you know beyond any doubt that you belong to me."
"I already know that," she whispered.
"Then I'll make yourememberit. Feel it. Understand it."
“Dmitri, you do understand that I’m yours, right?” I saw the concern in her eyes as she squinted them at me.
Yeah, baby girl, I’m that kind of crazy for you.
I chuckled. “There’s not a brave enough man that can tell me different.” I kissed her briefly. “Woman either.”
I led her inside, to the master bedroom which I'd already prepared. White silk ropes coiled on the bedside table. Candles flickering, casting shadows that danced across the walls. The massive four-poster bed dominated the space.
Natasha's eyes widened when she saw the ropes, but she didn't protest. Didn't hesitate. She trusted me with her body, her pleasure, her pain. And that trust? It made me fucking feral.
"Strip," I commanded, voice low and rough.
She obeyed without question, the silk pooled at her feet. I circled her slowly, drinking in every inch of exposed skin, every curve, every mark I'd ever left on her body. Though healed and gone, I knew where I’d placed each and every one of them. But tonight, I wanted more.
