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Our villa is stunning. White stone walls, blue shutters, plenty of space, and a private infinity pool that seems to spill directly into the sea. The interior is beautiful and open and airy, everything soft and light, making me feel like we've been transported into another world. I can tell my new bride feels the same way, too. Oksana walks through the space slowly, her eyes wide, her fingers trailing over the furniture. "Cormac, this is... this is incredible."

"You like it?" I come up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her back against my chest.

"I love it." She leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, lass. You're my wife. I want to give you everything."

She turns in my arms, looking up at me, and there's something in her expression that I can't quite read. "You already have."

I kiss her, slow and deep, and she melts into me, her body soft against mine. When I pull back, she's smiling, and the tension I'd sensed earlier seems to have eased.

Maybe this is what we needed. Time away from Chicago, away from the pressures of our families and our lives. Just the two of us, alone.

We spend the rest of the day exploring the villa and the grounds. There's a private beach accessible by a stone staircase carved into the cliff, and we walk along the sand as the sun sets. Oksana collects shells, her bare feet leaving prints in the wet sand, and I watch her with a feeling in my chest that I'm still not entirely used to.

It feels like… happiness.

That night, we have dinner on the terrace, with the backdrop of the ocean and a brilliant night sky. The dinner is fresh-caught fish prepared with lemon and herbs, and Greek salad and orzo on the side, and wine for me and water for her. It's a warm, beautiful night, as if everything has aligned just for us.

"This is perfect," Oksana says softly, looking out at the dark sea. "I don't want to leave."

"We have a week," I remind her. "We don't have to think about leaving yet."

She nods, but there's a shadow in her eyes that makes my chest tighten. "Are you alright?" I ask quietly.

"I'm fine." She reaches across the table and takes my hand. "I'm just... happy. That's all."

I want to believe her. I do believe her. But that nagging feeling is still there.

Still, the next two days are some of the best of my life. We sleep late, tangled together in the big bed with the windows open, the sound of the sea drifting in on the breeze. We swim in the pool, Oksana's laughter filling the air as I chase her through the water. We make love slowly in the afternoon heat, bodies slick with sweat and sunscreen, her moans soft and breathless as I make her come over and over before I finally give in to my own desire.

We eat all kinds of delicious food and talk endlessly. She tells me about other places she's wanted to visit, favorite books and movies and music, and I share the same things with her. For once, the world I inhabit in Chicago feels very far away. I could just be any man celebrating his new marriage, eating good food and sleeping in and having absurd amounts of sex, getting to know his new wife on an even deeper level.

"Do you ever regret it?" she asks one afternoon as we're lying by the pool. "The life you chose?"

I think about it. "Sometimes. But regret doesn't change anything. You make your choices, and you live with them."

"What if you could go back?" she presses. "What if you could choose differently?"

"I don't know." I turn my head to look at her. "If I'd chosen differently, I wouldn't have met you. So maybe I wouldn't change anything after all."

She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes, and that feeling comes back, nagging at the back of my mind. But I don't want anything to ruin this. And it's natural, as young as she is, that she might be having trouble settling in. Marriage and a child have come very quickly, out of the blue, for us both—but I'm older. I'm used to the ups and downs of life, far more than she is.

I just need to give her time.

That night, we have sex on the terrace under the stars, her clinging, bent over the railing as I fuck her slowly, drawing it out and making it last. She comes with my name on her lips, and I follow her over the edge, burying my face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin.

Afterward, we lie on one of the large double lounge chairs, listening to the lap of the pool in the breeze, and she falls asleep with her head on my chest.

I stay awake, staring up at the stars, memorizing the feel of her in my arms, next to me.

—

On the third morning, I wake up to find Oksana already out of bed. I can hear the shower running, and I stretch, feeling the pleasant ache in my muscles from the past few days. I want to join her in the shower, but my cock is sore too, from how much we've been fucking, and I can only imagine how she feels. I decide to give her a break for a few minutes and let her have some time to herself.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand. I pick it up and see a text from Declan.

Declan: Need to talk. Call when you can.