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She rolls her eyes.

I groan. “I’ve warned you about that. Your punishment tab is increasing.”

Perhaps my voice sounds too stern, for she looks at me with fear.

The way she’s looking at me now… I realize I’ve only made her more afraid of me. That’s not what I want. I seem to be screwing this up at every turn. I need her to look at me with respect. With desire. With love. Not fear.

I sigh. "Fine, make whatever face you like." I push a plate of food in front of her. “You haven’t eaten all day. Eat something.”

“After what just happened, I can't eat.” She stares blankly at the plate in front of her.

I push a glass of water toward her instead. “Then at least drink some water. I don’t want you fainting on me.”

She sighs but eventually takes a small sip. Just then, the MC announces it's time for the first dance.

Aurora barely looks at me as I lead her across the dance floor, one hand resting at her waist while the other holds hers.

I can see the fatigue creeping into her expression, so I cut the dance short.

The guests applaud when it ends, and after we cut the towering wedding cake together and endure another round of congratulations, I've had enough.

Aurora's smile has become strained. She's exhausted. I take her hand in mine and signal to my men.

“Where are we going?” she asks.

"We're leaving."

Her brows immediately knit together. "So soon? Papa will be pissed."

"He can go fuck himself."

As if on cue, Lorenzo walks over, catching up with us. “Are you leaving already?”

“Yes.”

"But there are still guests here. The celebration has only just begun."

I glance toward Aurora. "My wife needs to rest."

Lorenzo lets out an impatient breath. "The bride and groom are expected to stay. People have traveled from all over Europe to celebrate this union."

“Then entertain them.” My tone leaves no room for negotiation.

He clearly isn't happy. I couldn't care less. The opinions of everyone else in this room mean absolutely nothing compared to my wife's wellbeing.

Within thirty minutes, we're saying our final goodbyes.

Aurora hugs Audrey for several long moments, both sisters trying not to cry, before I gently guide my wife toward the waiting convoy.

From there, we're driven directly to the airport. We board my private jet, heading back to Chicago.

I would have given her a couple more days in Rome to rest, but I’ve already been away from my territory for over a week. Too many things require my attention.

We’re seated across from each other in the cabin, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife. Every time our eyes meet, she quickly looks away.

She's now changed out of her wedding dress into a simple red dress.

I watch her for another minute before finally reaching across the space between us. My fingers gently cradle her jaw, turning her face back toward mine.