“No, Tatiana.” He flicks his fingers at Reino, who waits downstairs in the foyer. “Ask me for something else, but you’re not sleeping in any other room than mine.”
I swallow down a retort. It’s not an argument I want to have in front of his guards, especially not if it’s one I’m going to lose.
“Tell Jasper and Noah we’re ready to go,” Dante says to Reino.
Reino nods at me, making sure to avert his gaze in front of Dante. “You look beautiful, Miss Teszner.”
I sigh. “Really, Reino? After everything, you can call me Tatiana.”
“Not if he values his life.” Dante’s fingers tighten around my hand. “My men know what will happen if they get familiar with you, so don’t you forget that either, darling.”
Far from being offended, Reino smiles. “The only name I’ll be able to call you from now on is Mrs. Morici.”
The sound of that is like a knife that cuts through me, the blade surgical and precise, hitting all the right spots to inflict maximum damage. There was a time I wanted to be Mrs. Morici with all my heart. But never like this.
Perhaps realizing his mistake, Reino wipes the smile off his face. “I’ll go find Jazz.”
When he’s gone, I turn to Dante. “Yet he’s allowed to call her by her first name.”
He adjusts a cuff. “Not the same. You’re mine.”
As if that cryptic, absurd answer makes perfect sense, he ushers me to the convoy that waits outside.
An army of men escorts us to a small and intimate church that’s hidden an hour’s drive away in the countryside. Only a handful of people attend. They’re all from Dante’s side, strangers I don’t know. Emily isn’t present. Jazz and Noah are my anchors, the familiar faces I turn to when Reino walks me down the aisle on the notes of the wedding march.
Dante stands in the front, looking handsome and proud and larger than life. Peonies and candles fill the interior, creating a soft, warm glow of gold and pink.
When we reach the altar, Reino retreats. Dante takes my hand. We exchange vows, rings, and a kiss, and then we’re husband and wife.
Dante arranged for an intimate ceremony on the lawn outside the church. His guests sip champagne and nibble on canapés while a photographer snaps away until my mouth feels stiff from smiling.
Noah runs around the lawn, chasing after the pigeons that are picking crumbs from the grass. Jazz fusses over my lipstick and my hair, reapplying gloss every time I’ve chewed my lips from nervousness. I smile for the strangers as much as I smile for the camera, feeding them the same lie because my pride won’t let me show them weakness.
It’s only when we head home an hour later that I allow myself to drop the facade. I sink down in the plush leather seat, staring through the window without seeing the scenery. I’m too aware of Dante’s smell that seems to envelop and smother me.
Jazz sits in the front next to Reino, ignoring him as usual. Noah is strapped into his car seat between me and Dante. He’s babbling non-stop, excitedly asking questions about what this day means for him.
He looks at Dante. “Do I really have your surname now?”
Dante stretches his arm along the back of the seat and rubs his fingers over my shoulder. “Yes.” He replies in the same patient tone he’s used the previous ten times when Noah has asked the question. “Just like your mother.”
“Does that mean no one can take me away from you?”
Dante draws circles over my skin. “No one.”
Goosebumps break out over my arm.
Noah’s tone is serious. “Does that mean you adopted me?”
Jazz goes still. Reino clears his throat.
Dante doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m your biological father.”
“You are?” Noah considers that for a moment. “What’s the difference?”
Dante smiles. “We’ll have a talk, and I’ll explain it to you.”
“Can you give Mommy another baby?”
