Lucia
The wedding wasn’t meant to feel romantic, and no one in that room expected it to be.
It was planned for something else entirely, something heavier than vows or celebration, and every detail reflected that from the moment I stepped inside.
The church was filled beyond capacity, not with guests in the traditional sense but with men and women who carried power in the way they stood, watched, and with the quiet understanding that this wasn’t just a union between two people.
It was an alignment between families and a statement made in front of those who mattered. The weight of it pressed in from every direction.
Everything at the venue was excessive, from the marble floors polished to a sheen, to the gold threaded into the smallest details. It was the kind of wealth that didn’t need to be announced because it was clear where it came from.
The blood of others.
As nervous as I was, I was proud of myself for not letting it show outwardly.
The air held a different kind of tension, something that was sharp with anticipation and expectation. This wasn’t my love story about to unfold. This was the pathway to hell itself, and the devil was the most handsome man I’d ever seen.
The reception hall was overwhelming in the kind of way that had nothing to do with size and everything to do with money. Crystal chandeliers stretched across the ceiling in long rows, each one dripping in light that reflected off the wealth.
The tables were dressed in silk and fine linens, centerpieces overflowing with flowers that had been flown in, their scent mixing with expensive perfume and aged liquor.
Servers moved through the room in silence, carrying trays of champagne and food that most people wouldn’t even recognize. Every detail was planned, and simply perfect.
No expense was spared. My family wanted everyone to know exactly how much wealth they had. This was what power looked like when it didn’t need to hide.
I stood beside Alexei in the middle of it all, aware of every glance that lingered too long, every quiet conversation that shifted when we moved past, and every calculated look that measured what our union meant.
Or maybe it was because I had just been married off to The Butcher himself?
But none of that held my focus for long, not when Alexei stayed at my side like he belonged there, like I did, too, now whether I wanted to admit it or not.
His gaze kept drifting back to me, dark and unrelenting, as if the entire room full of power and wealth was nothing compared to the sight of me beside him.
His hand rested at the small of my back, firm, steadfast, and every time someone stepped too close, it shifted just slightly, tightening, reminding me and everyone else exactly where I stood. It made a statement that wasn’t subtle if you knew what to look for, and in this room, everyone did.Mine.
The word didn’t need to be spoken. It was already understood.
The heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of my dress, a silent claim that made my pulse quicken every time his fingers flexed possessively against my spine.
He leaned into me at one point, his mouth brushing close enough to my ear that I felt his breath before I heard his voice. “Stay close.” The command was quiet, measured, but it wasn’t something I could ignore even if I wanted to.
My body reacted before my mind caught up, curving into him just slightly. I felt the shift in him immediately and the way his hand pressed more firmly at my waist like he noticed. Of course he did.
A low sound rumbled in his chest, barely audible, as my body brushed against his. Something raw and hungry came from his throat that he quickly swallowed back.
“Careful, little wife,” he growled softly against my ear, the words dark with warning and filthy promise. “Keep rubbing against me like that and I’ll bend you over the nearest table and fuck you in front of every last one of these bastards. Let them watch The Butcher claim what’s his.”
I audibly gasped at his lewd and crude words, even though my pussy got wet with desire. We movedtogether through the room like that, not separate, not even slightly, and I felt it in every glance, every pause in conversation, every subtle reaction that followed us.
“You’re staring,” he murmured at one point, his voice low, almost amused.
“Everyone else is staring so I might as well, too,” I said, though my attention had already drifted back to him without meaning to.
His eyes darkened as they traced the line of my neck, the curve of my shoulder, lingering with an intensity that made the air between us feel charged and far too warm for the elegant room.
Time blurred after that, the noise, the movement, the constant presence of people who watched and waited. And with each passing second, the tension in my body grew until it like it would explode out of me.
I was turned on by the little touches from Alexei, of his breath at my ear as he whispered to me, and the way his big body kept me close so everyone knew I was his.
