Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Hearing him say my new last name should have terrified me. It turned me on instead.
His words didn’t loosen their hold on me. They sank deeper, settling somewhere low and dangerous, somewhere I didn’t want to examine too closely because I was afraid I’d never want to escape.
My breath hitched, but I didn’t pull away even though I should have. Every instinct I’d been raised with told me to put space between us, to fight the weight of what he was claiming, to remind him that I wasn’t something to be owned, no matter whose ring sat on my finger or what name I now carried. But my hands moved instead, sliding up his chest, feeling the heat of him through the thin fabric of his shirt, feeling the steady, unshakable strength beneath it.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said softly, the words barely more than a breath against his throat, but they held more truth than I wanted to admit.
His body stilled. And then his other hand curled around my throat, not tightening, but a steady pressure that told me he was in charge.
“Careful,” he murmured, his lips brushing just beneath my ear, his voice low enough to send a shiver straight down my spine. “Playing with fire, little one.” He leaned in and ran the tip of his nose along the side of my face. “Moya.” Mine.
“If you ever try to leave my sight again, even for a second, I’ll chain you to my bed and remind you exactly who you belong to until you can’t walk. This honeymoon is mine. You are mine. And I protect what’s mine with blood if I have to.”
And as he drew back just enough to look at me, his dark eyes locking onto mine with that same quiet, consuming intensity, I realized something that settled heavy in my chest and burned just as hot.
I wanted to be his irrevocably, until I didn’t know where I ended and he began.
Chapter Twelve
Alexei
After a few days in the villa, I was done keeping my pretty little wife hidden away. This was my world as much as it was hers now, and I wanted to watch her in it.
So, I took her down into the village.
I’d kept my dick in my pants since our first night together, not because I wanted to, but because Jesus Christ, my cock was hard every time I was around her. But I knew she had to be sore. So instead of fucking her every chance I got, I touched her softly, getting her used to my touch, making her feel good without fucking pounding her like I really wanted to.
The town was a few miles below the estate, all narrow streets and old stone buildings that had been there longer than most of the men walking them. Nothing flashy or modern. It was slower paced. Quieter. But no less watchful. It was the kind of place where people knew everyone's business because that’s all you could do. Gossip.
We took the car into the village, the windows down, her long dark hair tousled from the wind. I’d buy her a hand-stitched, silk scarf in the village, one she could use to cover her hair if she wanted to. Lucia stayed close to my side when we stepped out of the car. My hand settled at the small of her back, keeping her exactly where I wanted her but letting her lead and explore.
The dress she wore was simple and light, cotton and breathable that moved with her when she walked, molding to her curvy body. She wore it for comfort, but fuck, she looked gorgeous. Hell, I knew she’d look beautiful wearing a potato sack.
Men noticed her anyway. I saw the first look from across the street, the way a man’s gaze lingered too long before he realized I was glaring at him. He turned away like he hadn’t just made a mistake that could cost him his life.
The square was small but busy with locals and tourists. There were a few tables set outside a café, locals talking and drinking espressos. I stayed close to Lucia but let her choose our seats.
We took our place at one of the café patio tables, ordered drinks, a few pastries, and enjoyed the comfortable silence.
But that was disrupted when I received a call from my father. I excused myself, stepping a few feet away. My father’s voice was low and measured in my ear, but my attention never fully left Lucia. She sat where I’d left her, sunlight catching in her hair, a cup untouched in front of her, and every man in that square noticed her. That part didn’t bother me. What I didn’t tolerate was one of them acting on it.
I saw him before he reached her, the way he slowed as he approached, the shift in his posture like he’d already decided he had a right to be there. I didn’t interrupt the call right away. I listened and watched as he stopped beside her.