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I had believed speaking love aloud created a target. As though the enemy required a confession before noticing how I watched her, how quickly I moved when she called, how completely she had changed the essence of every room in my house. Dmitry already knew all of that.

Silence had protected nothing.

“I love you,” I said.

Alessia went still. Her eyes filled, but her smile came first.

“I know,” she whispered.

“That is an exceedingly irritating response.”

She slipped both arms around my neck. “I love you too, Sergei.”

I pulled her against me. Alessia leaned back after a while and drew the sapphire pin from her hair. Dark curls fell over her shoulders and down the ivory silk.

“The ceremony is over,” she said.

“Yes.”

“And we are married.”

I touched the ring on her hand. “Very married.”

“Then take me upstairs, husband.”

My hand settled against the collar around her throat. Her pulse beat steadily under my fingers.

“Very well, wife,” I murmured.

I kissed her slowly, standing there with Mila watching. Then I picked her up and carried her upstairs to our bedroom, her arms around my neck and her mouth warm against the scar near my ear. I had never once imagined a wedding night inside this room. My bed had been where I slept when I could, where I came alone on my stomach after the violence of a job, and where I closed my eyes most nights to the memory of Mila’s body. I had never thought of it as a place where I could give or receive pleasure.

I set my wife on her feet next to the bed, and she turned to face me.

“Take this off.” She tugged at my jacket.

I obeyed, loosening my tie, then unbuttoning the shirt she had chosen for our wedding. My fingers moved more slowly than usual, as though the room had grown heavy around us. Once I removed my clothing, I returned to her. I gathered her hair and twisted it back over one shoulder, leaving her neck bare to my touch. My lips brushed against her pulse before my fingers found the buttons at the back of her dress.

The fabric slipped away easily enough, but when it pooled at her feet and she stood in front of me in nothing but lace, my body responded with a heat that made me forget to breathe.

I traced the neckline of the lacey lingerie, following it down until my hand reached the fastening between her breasts. I opened it slowly, letting my knuckles brush against her soft skin. She inhaled when I reached her stomach, her eyes watching my face as my hands traced down her silken body. I pushed her panties past her hips, and down her legs. The lingerie fell to the floor, leaving her naked before me.

I reached for her and drew her against me. Her hands came to rest at my waist as I looked down at her, taking in every detail of her beautiful face.

I brushed my fingertips down her arms, enjoying how she responded to my light touch before I moved behind her. I wanted to see her body from every angle, letting the heat between us build.

My bare chest pressed against her back. My fingers traced her collarbones, her ribs, the curve of her waist. Her breath grew faster when I circled her navel and moved lower, but she didn’t speak or turn. Only when I reached her inner thighs did she lean back against me with a soft moan, her hands reaching back to find my hips for balance.

“Sergei,” she whispered.

“Yes?”

“Touch me properly.”

“Like this?” My fingers slid higher, parting her gently until I found the wetness between her thighs.

“Yes.” Her head fell back against my shoulder.

I stroked her slowly, one arm encircling her waist to keep her close. Her hips moved against me, her breathing growing uneven as my fingers explored her until she was slick and trembling. Then I withdrew my hand and turned her in my arms. Her eyes opened, dazed with pleasure and a flicker of frustration that only made her more beautiful.