Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Vittoria
The Chicago skyline blurs past the tinted windows as Dmitri carries me through the entrance of the Grand Theatre. My wedding dress billows around us like a cloud of silk and lace, the train dragging across the marble floor.
I laugh against his neck. "You're insane. We left three hundred guests at the reception."
"I don't give a damn about them."
His voice is rough. Hungry. The same voice he uses when he's about to devour me.
"Dmitri, my mother is going to murder us both."
"Let her try." He kicks open the inner doors without breaking stride. "I need to fuck my wife while she's wearing this incredible dress."
Wife.
The word sends a shiver down my spine. We've been married for exactly two hours and forty-seven minutes. The ceremony was beautiful. Traditional. Everything my mother dreamed of.
But the moment the reception started, Dmitri pulled me aside. Whispered in my ear that he had a surprise. Then threw me over his shoulder and carried me to the waiting car while our guests gaped.
Pietro is probably losing his mind right now.
I don't care.
"Where are we going?" I ask as he navigates the familiar hallways.
He doesn't answer. Just keeps walking with that predatory determination that makes my thighs clench.
We pass the main auditorium. The balcony level. The private boxes where Chicago's elite once watched performances.
Then he stops in front of a door I recognize.
The grand movies room.
Where he tied me to that antique chair. Where he made me scream his name until my throat was raw. Where he claimed me in ways I never knew I wanted.
Dmitri shifts me in his arms and pushes the door open.
I gasp.
The antique chair is gone. In its place sits a massive bed draped in white silk sheets. Rose petals scatter across the floor. Candles flicker on every surface, casting dancing shadows across the ornate walls.
The spotlight that once illuminated my naked body now bathes the bed in soft golden light.
I start laughing. Deep, genuine laughter that shakes my entire body.
"You put a bed in here?"
"I put a bed in here."
"In the middle of a historic theater?"
"In the middle of our historic theater." He sets me down gently, my heels clicking against the hardwood. "We own it, remember?"
I spin slowly, taking in the transformation. The room still holds its original grandeur. The carved moldings. The velvet curtains. The ceiling painted with scenes from Greek mythology.
But now there's a California king bed sitting dead center like it belongs there.
"This room is supposed to provide art," I say, still laughing. "Culture. Sophistication."
Dmitri's hands find my waist. He pulls me back against his chest, his breath hot against my ear.
"Hell yeah, we're going to provide art."
"By putting a bed in it?"
"By fucking around it." His teeth graze my earlobe. "On it. Against every wall. Until this room knows exactly who it belongs to."
Heat pools low in my belly.
"That's not art, Dmitri."
"The hell it isn't." His fingers work at the buttons running down my spine. "The way you look when you come? The sounds you make? The way your body moves under mine?" He pops another button. "That's the most beautiful art I've ever seen."
The dress loosens around my shoulders.
His hands are sliding the silk off my shoulders. His lips are tracing the curve of my neck. His body is hard and demanding against my back.
"You planned this romantic scene," I breathe.
"I've been planning this since the day I bought this theater."
Another button. Another inch of skin exposed.
"You bought this theater months ago."
"I know." His voice drops to that dangerous register. "I've been imagining you in this bed for months. In this room. Under these lights." He spins me to face him. "In this dress."
The bodice of my gown hangs loose now, held up only by my arms crossed over my chest.
Dmitri's eyes are molten silver in the candlelight. Hungry. Possessive. Completely focused on me.
"Drop your arms."
It's not a request.
I hold his gaze. Let my arms fall to my sides.
The dress pools at my feet in a whisper of silk and lace. Underneath, I'm wearing exactly what he requested this morning. White lace lingerie. Garter belt. Stockings that end mid-thigh.
His breath catches.
"Bozhe moy," he murmurs. My God.
I step out of the dress carefully, leaving it in a puddle of white on the floor. My heels click against the hardwood as I move toward the bed.
"You wanted art?" I glance over my shoulder at him. "Come create some with me."
Dmitri
The orchestra swells as I spin Vittoria across the ballroom floor. Her pink dress—the second one she changed into after we finally made it back to the reception—flares around her ankles. The diamond on her finger catches the light from the chandeliers.
My wife.
The word still doesn't feel real.
"Your mother is staring at us," I murmur against her ear.
Vittoria laughs softly. "She's been staring since we walked in. I don't think she believed the photography story."
"She definitely didn't believe it."
Aria Sartori had been waiting at the entrance when we arrived, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. Where have you two been? The photographer finished an hour ago.
Vittoria had smiled sweetly. We arranged a private session, Mamma. For intimate shots.
The look Aria gave us could have frozen vodka.
"She knows exactly what we were doing," Vittoria says now, her cheeks flushing.
"Good." I pull her closer, eliminating the proper distance between us. "Let her know her daughter is thoroughly loved."
The word slips out before I can stop it.
Loved.
Vittoria's eyes snap to mine. Something shifts in her expression. Softens.
"Dmitri..."
"I love you."
The words hang between us. Raw. Unguarded. Everything I've been holding back since the moment I saw her at that gala, since she ran from me and made me chase her, since she chose me despite every reason not to.
"I know I'm not supposed to say it like this." My voice is rough. "In the middle of a crowded ballroom. With your entire family watching. But I can't wait another second."
Her hand tightens on my shoulder.
"I've killed men without blinking. I've built empires on blood and fear. I've done things that would make most people run screaming." I guide her through a turn, never breaking eye contact. "But you? You terrify me more than any of it."
"I terrify you?"
"You have no idea." I pull her impossibly closer. "Because before you, I didn't care if I lived or died. I had duty. Responsibility. A legacy to protect. But I didn't have a reason to want tomorrow."
The music swells around us. Other couples drift past, but they might as well be ghosts.
"Then you walked into that gala in your dress, and you looked at me like I was just another monster in a room full of monsters.
And when I kissed your hand, you ran." A smile tugs at my lips.
"You ran from me, solnyshko. Do you know how many women have thrown themselves at me? At my money? My power? My name?"
"Hundreds, I'm sure," she says dryly.
"Thousands." I'm not bragging. It's simply fact. "But you ran. And in that moment, something broke inside me. Or maybe it finally fixed itself. I'm still not sure which."
Her eyes are glistening now. She blinks rapidly, trying to hold back tears.
"I spent a month watching you through security cameras like some obsessed stalker.
I manipulated your family. I eliminated your other suitors.
I did terrible things to get close to you.
" My thumb traces circles on her lower back.
"And I would do all of it again. Every single moment. Because it led me here."
"Dmitri..."
"I'm not finished."
She closes her mouth. Waits.
"You asked me once what you would get from marrying a monster.
" I lean down until my forehead touches hers.
"Here's your answer. You get a man who will burn the world to ash if anyone threatens you.
You get someone who will never lie to you, even when the truth is ugly.
You get a partner who sees your brilliance and wants to stand beside it, not diminish it. "
A tear escapes down her cheek. I catch it with my thumb.
"You get my heart, Vittoria. Every dark, damaged piece of it. It's yours. It's been yours since the moment you ran from me and made me realize I would chase you forever if that's what it took."
"You're going to make me cry at my own wedding," she whispers.
"Good." I kiss her forehead. "Because I need you to understand something."
"What?"
"I didn't marry you for the alliance. I didn't marry you for your family's connections or your tech genius or any of the strategic advantages our union provides.
" I pull back just enough to look into her eyes.
"I married you because you're the only person who has ever made me want to be more than what my father created.
You make me want to be worthy of something. Of someone."
Her hand comes up to cup my face. Her palm is warm against my jaw.
"You are worthy," she says softly. "You always were."
"No." I shake my head. "But I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to become the man you deserve. That's my vow to you, Vittoria Baganov. Not the ones we said in the church. This one. Right here. Right now."
The music shifts to something slower. More intimate.
"I love you," I say again. "I love your stubborn streak and your brilliant mind and the way you challenge me when I'm being an idiot.
I love how you care for your family even when they drive you crazy.
I love that you wore that damn vibrator to dinner just to prove you could handle anything I threw at you. "
She laughs through her tears. "You're bringing that up now?"
"I'm bringing up everything. Every moment that made me fall harder for you.
" I spin her slowly. "The way you explained your security systems with such passion I forgot to breathe.
The way you held my hand at my father's funeral without saying a word.
The way you activated that tracker when you were kidnapped because you trusted me to find you. "
"I did trust you."
"And I will never betray that trust." My voice drops to barely a whisper. "You are my heart, solnyshko. My little sun. The only light in a very dark world."
"I love you too. So so much." she says and she presses her lips on mine.
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