"You look beautiful," I say quietly. Just for her.
"Thank you." Her voice is steady despite the anxiety I can see in her eyes.
Judge Varney clears his throat, glancing nervously between us. He begins the standard ceremony language; commitment, partnership, forsaking all others. I barely hear it.
All my attention is on Matilda. On the way she's looking at me like I'm either salvation or damnation and she hasn't decided which. On the pulse fluttering at her throat. On the way her fingers tighten around mine like I'm the only solid thing in a world that's spinning too fast.
When it's time for vows, I keep mine brief.
"I take you, Matilda Lazovskia, to be my wife. I promise to protect you, provide for you, and make damn sure you never regret choosing me."
Her eyes shine.
Her turn. She takes a shaky breath.
"I take you, Gennady Petrov, to be my husband. I promise to stand beside you, to trust you, and to choose you. Every day."
Every day.
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express the gravity of those two words.
Stefan appears at my elbow with the rings. I take Matilda's first, delicate platinum that catches the light, and slide it onto her finger. Perfect fit.
She takes mine with trembling hands, and I hold still while she pushes it onto my finger. The metal is warm, and I feel the weight of it like a claim.
"I now pronounce you husband and wife," Judge Varney says, relief evident in his voice. "You may kiss the bride."
This is it.
I cup her face with both hands, tilting it up toward me.
"Matilda," I murmur. "My wife."
Then I kiss her.
I mean it to be appropriate. Gentle. Public rather than possessive. But the moment my mouth touches hers, control becomes a distant concept. She tastes like everything I didn't know I needed. Hope and fear and trust all tangled together.
Her lips part on a gasp and I deepen the kiss, just enough to remind her what's waiting for us tonight. Just enough to feel her surrender into it.
When I force myself to pull back, her eyes are dazed, lips parted. And I've never wanted anything more than I want her right now.
Applause fills the orangery. Polite, measured. My men nod approval. Mila is grinning. Marie dabs at her eyes.
But all I can focus on is the woman in front of me wearing my ring, bound to me legally and in every way that matters.
I slide my arm around her waist, anchoring her to my side.
"You okay?" I murmur.
"I think so," she says, which isn't exactly reassuring but is probably the best I'm going to get.
"Good." I press my lips to her temple. "Because we have about an hour of obligatory celebration, and then I'm taking you upstairs and showing you exactly what it means to be my wife."
Matilda
The last hour passes in a blur of faces and champagne I barely taste.
I'm married.
