Heat flared wherever his body pressed against mine, a shock of sensation that made my blood race and my limbs tremble.
His free hand rose to cup the side of my face, possessive and sure, fingers splaying along the curve of my jaw, tilting my head ever so slightly.
Every movement was measured.
I was acutely aware of every detail—his warmth, the roughness of his palms, the undeniable power in his touch—but also the faint, underlying scent that hadn’t left, that twisted my stomach into tight, uncomfortable knots.
When he finally pulled back—slowly, almost reluctantly—the world shifted beneath me.
Vertigo threatened.
My lips still tingled, the taste lingering like fire and fruit combined.
Peach.
My mind recoiled instinctively, the knot in my stomach tightening into a coil of fear.
No.
Peach was my deadliest allergy—one I had confessed to him during those long, intimate fourteen hours we spent together as children.
I had told him everything: how, at age seven, a single sip of a peach-flavored drink had sent me spiraling into a coma for three days.
Even the faintest whiff could trigger a milder reaction, but direct contact like this, pressed against my lips in a deliberate kiss?
This was far beyond mild.
My eyes widened, vision already beginning to blur at the edges.
The peach scent clung to me.
It wasn’t an accident.
My mind raced even as my body began to betray me.
Had he done this on purpose?
The man who had just married me, who had rewritten both our lives in a single audacious decision—had he remembered my confession from years ago and weaponized it?
Was this some twisted ritual disguised as a wedding kiss?
A public execution in the opulent guise of matrimony?
My legs felt like liquid beneath me.
The marble floor seemed to shift and sway as the grand hall blurred, black and white merging into a dizzying, surreal mosaic of fabric and faces.
Sharp stabs of pain bloomed deep in my abdomen, radiating outward in cruel waves.
I reached out blindly toward the tall, commanding figure of Vincenzo, fingers grasping at nothing but empty air, my mind screaming for help, for intervention, for some anchor in the chaos.
He didn’t move.
He simply stood there. Watching.
My balance gave out completely.
I collapsed backward onto the altar steps, the hard marble biting into my spine with a deafening thud that seemed to echo through the cavernous hall.
