I simply need to cultivate it.
When I pull back, her eyes are wide and unfocused. Her lips are swollen, shiny with smeared lip gloss.
Perfect.
The crowd erupts in applause, and I watch color bloom across her cheeks.
I turn us to face them, keeping my arm locked around her waist. She's trembling like a frightened animal, but I expected that. This is overwhelming—the wedding, the guests, becoming a Nero.
She'll adjust.
I'll make sure of it.
There's no other choice.
I guide her down the aisle, keeping a possessive grip on her waist until we're back inside the privacy of the house. Even then, I don't want to let her go. If she hadn't slipped from my arms, I would have held her longer.
"I want to see Gabe," she says immediately. "I did what you asked." She holds up her hand, the diamond band catching the light. "We're married. Now I want to see my brother."
I nearly growl in irritation. "The wedding isn't over, Sera. We have the entire reception to get through."
Her shoulders slump, and tears well in her eyes. "I can't do this, Adrian. I feel like I'm going insane. I can't?—"
I reach out, pulling her against my chest. She shivers, and I press a kiss to her forehead. It's more tender than how I normally treat women, but I'm starting to realize I need a gentler hand with Sera. After all, she is my wife now, and her pregnancy makes her delicate.
"I know you're tired," I say quietly. "But I need you to keep it together for a few more hours."
She sags against me, exhausted. I lift her chin with one finger, forcing her to meet my eyes, and brush my lips across hers. "Soon," I promise. Though I'm not entirely sure what I'm promising.
The reception is everything my mother envisioned. Excessive. Opulent. A statement.
Normally I'd fucking hate it, but I like showing off Sera.
The ballroom has been transformed. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across thousands of white roses. Tables are set with china bought by my great-great-great-grandparents. A string orchestra plays classical pieces that fade seamlessly into jazz.
It's beautiful.
It's also a cage, and I can see Sera beginning to understand that. I watch her eyes take it in, see the moment things click into place. This is a show, and we need to put on a flawless performance.
She stays close to me as we make our rounds. Her hand is locked in mine, her smile fixed and brittle. She's barely keeping it together. I can feel the tension in her body, see the way her eyes dart around like she's looking for an exit.
There isn't one.
Not anymore.
"Adrian." Harold Westbrook extends his hand, his wife Patricia beside him. Old money. Real estate empire. Political connections that go all the way to the governor's office. "Congratulations. Your mother told us the happy news."
"Thank you." I shake his hand, pulling Sera forward. "This is my wife, Seraphina."
The possessiveness that floods through me is visceral. Mine to introduce. Mine to protect. Mine to display.
"Lovely to meet you." Patricia's smile is warm but assessing. They all want to know who this mysterious woman is and why, after years of avoiding commitment, I finally decided to settle. "What a beautiful dress."
"Thank you." Sera's voice is quiet. Polite. But I can feel her wanting to bolt.
"Seraphina works in rare book restoration," I say, my hand tightening on her waist. "She has a degree from NYU."
"How interesting." Harold's expression says it's anything but. To him, she's a nobody. A girl I knocked up and had to marry. "You must be very excited about joining the Nero family."
