"You need one night as husband and wife," she said firmly. "Just you two. I'll bring them back in the morning."
After they left, the house felt too quiet.
Valentina stood in our bedroom doorway, still wearing the cream dress, wedding ring catching lamplight.
"Hi, husband," she said softly.
"Hi, wife." I crossed to her and pulled her close. "How does it feel?"
"Terrifying. Perfect. Right." She looked up at me. "We're really married."
"Really married." I traced her jaw with gentle fingers. "You're mine now. Legally. Forever."
"I was always yours. The paperwork just made it official."
I kissed her then—slow, deep, full of everything I felt. Love and desire and a desperate need to memorize this moment.
Tomorrow, I'd leave. For six weeks, maybe more. Leaving her alone with two newborns while I paid for my past.
But tonight, we had this.
"Make love to me," she whispered against my lips. "Like it's our last night."
"It's not our last night. It's our first night. As husband and wife." I swept her into my arms and carried her to the bed. "And I'm going to make sure you remember it the entire time I'm gone."
I set her down gently, mindful of her still-healing body. She'd been medically cleared, but I'd be careful anyway. Always careful with her.
I reached for the zipper of her dress and drew it down slowly. The fabric whispered as it fell, pooling at her feet in cream silk.
She stood before me in simple white lace—nothing elaborate, just beautiful.
"You're staring," she said, shy suddenly.
"You're my wife. I'm allowed to stare."
"Fair point."
I shed my suit jacket, tie, shirt—clothes borrowed from Domenico for the ceremony. Everything fell away until it was just skin and want.
"Come here," I said.
She moved into my arms, and I lifted her carefully onto the bed. Her body had changed—softer curves, the C-section scar visible below her navel, breasts fuller from nursing.
More beautiful than ever.
I kissed my way down her body, worshipping every inch. The soft sounds she made when I reached her thighs. Her fingers threading through my hair. The way she opened for me without hesitation.
"Alessio—"
"Shh. Let me."
I tasted her slowly, thoroughly, until she was shaking and begging. Until she came apart on my tongue with my name on her lips.
Then I moved up her body, settled between her thighs, and positioned myself at her entrance.
"You're sure?" I asked. "We can wait if—"
"I'm sure." She pulled me down. "Make love to your wife, Alessio. Show me I'm yours."
