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“So how long have you two been seeing each other?” I ask, sliding into the conversation with exactly zero shame about it.

Yuri’s ears go visibly red. “It’s not a big deal.”

“He’s been sneaking off every Thursday for six weeks,” Marek says, delighted with himself. “Told us he had a dentist appointment. Same time every week. For six weeks.”

“I have excellent dental hygiene.”

The whole table laughs, and Yuri’s date, whose name I learn is Sofia, laughs loudest of all, clearly enjoying watching him squirm more than she’s bothered by any of it.

“He brought me flowers on our first date,” she tells me, leaning in conspiratorially. “Wouldn’t tell me what he does for work. Very mysterious.”

“He runs security for my husband.” I test the word out loud for the first time, feeling it settle strangely and perfectly into place. “It’s a whole thing.”

Artem finds me an hour later, pulling me gently away from the dancing and out onto the now-empty terrace, the party still going warm and loud behind the glass doors. The night air’s cooled off since the ceremony, and he shrugs out of his jacket without a word and settles it over my shoulders before I can even think to shiver.

“Mrs. Leonov,” he says, testing it the same way I tested husband a moment ago.

“I like the sound of that.”

“So do I.” He pulls me against him, one hand settling low on my back, and we sway there together without any music at all, just the muffled sound of the party filtering through the glass. “Ready to disappear from your own wedding?”

“God, yes.”

He leads me upstairs, past the guests still celebrating without us, and I don’t look back once, his hand warm around mine the whole way, the sound of the party fading further behind us with every step.

He closes the bedroom door behind us, and the muffled sound of the party drops away at once. For a moment we simply stand there looking at each other, the reality of the day settling between us in the quiet. His jacket is still draped over my shoulders. I shrug it off and let it fall onto the chair.

“Mrs. Leonov,” he says again, quieter this time, almost testing the words against the privacy of the room.

“Say it once more.”

He steps in close, hands settling at my waist. “Mrs. Leonov.”

I rise onto my toes and kiss him. The kiss starts soft and smiling, the kind that belongs to a day already full of joy rather than fear. He answers it the same way, one hand sliding up my back to the loose pins in my hair, the other resting low where the soft curve of my belly presses against him.

When we part, he rests his forehead against mine for a breath. “I’ve been waiting all day to get you alone,” he murmurs.

“Then stop waiting.”

He turns me gently, so my back is to his chest and begins working the small buttons that run down the back of the cream dress.

Each one comes undone with careful fingers. He presses a kiss to the nape of my neck, then to the top of my spine, then lower as more skin appears. When the dress finally loosens, he eases it off my shoulders and lets it pool at my feet. I step out of it wearing only the simple silk slip and underwear I chose that morning.

He turns me to face him again and simply looks. The reverence in his expression tightens my throat. His hands come up and rest on either side of my belly, thumbs stroking the taut curve as if he is greeting something sacred.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, voice rough with honesty. “Every version of you. This one most of all.”

He sinks to his knees right there on the bedroom floor. I feel the first open-mouthed kiss against the underside of my belly, then another, slower and lingering.

His hands hold me steady while he worships the shape of me with his mouth, moving lower until he can press his face against the softest part and breathe me in.

A quiet sound leaves my throat. He looks up, eyes dark and completely focused.

“I am going to take my time with you tonight,” he tells me. “Every inch. Until you understand exactly how grateful I am that you said yes.”

He guides me back until I sit on the edge of the bed, then eases the slip up and over my head. The bra follows. He cups both breasts carefully, mindful of how sensitive they have become, and leans in to kiss the slope of each one before taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. My hands find his hair.

He switches sides, equally patient, equally thorough, until both peaks are tight and aching under his tongue.