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"My queen," he announces, loud enough for all to hear. "My wife. The mother of the next Ravelli heir. Let it be known that to move against her is to move against me."

Our blood mingles, sealing the pact before hundreds of witnesses. In this moment, I am fully claimed. Fully accepted. No longer an outsider but the very heart of the Ravelli empire.

The formal part of the ceremony completed, the reception begins. Champagne flows, music swells, and the criminal elite of Europe comes to pay respects to their new king and queen.

I stand beside Luca, accepting congratulations with a grace Teresa has drilled into me from the moment I set foot into this world. When he's pulled away for a private word with the head of the Irish contingent, I find myself momentarily alone.

"Mrs. Ravelli."

The voice behind me carries a heavy Russian accent.

I turn to find Dmitri Volkov, glass in hand, studying me with unsettling intensity.

"Mr. Volkov." I keep my voice cool, one hand instantly moving over my stomach. "Thank you for attending."

"I would not miss it." His smile is wicked as he casts it over me. "You look so much like him, you know. Alexei. Around the eyes especially."

My heart quickens, but I maintain my composed expression. "I wouldn't know."

"No, I suppose you wouldn't." He sips his champagne, gaze never leaving my face. "Your father was a good man, Mrs. Ravelli. Loyal… until he wasn't. Until he chose love over duty."

"As I've been told."

Dmitri steps closer, lowering his voice. "You stand at a crossroads, Bianca Petrov Ravelli. Blood calls to blood, even across generations. Even across loyalty lines."

My chin lifts in the same defiance I used the night I met my husband. "I've made my choice."

"So you believe." He glances meaningfully at my stomach. "But that child carries three bloodlines now. Ravelli. Volkov. Petrov. A dangerous combination. One that could unite families... or destroy them."

Before I can respond, Luca materializes at my side, his presence a shield between me and Dmitri's unsettling words.

"Enjoying my hospitality, Dmitri?" Luca's voice carries a lethal edge beneath its civility.

Dmitri inclines his head. "You've done well for yourself, Luciano. Though I think we both know this peace is... temporary."

"Nothing lasts forever," Luca agrees. "Except, perhaps, vendettas."

"Indeed." Dmitri's smile is sharp as a blade. "Your missing brother sends his regards, by the way. He's been most... informative."

Luca's hand finds mine, squeezing once in warning.

"When you see Dante next," he says casually, "give him a message from me: The only way he returns to London is in a body bag."

Dmitri's laugh is like breaking glass. "Family. So complicated, isn't it? Almost as complicated as...heritage."

His eyes slide to me once more before he turns away, disappearing into the crowd with the deliberate grace of a man who knows he's left his mark.

"What was that about?" I ask Luca, once we're alone.

His jaw tightens. "A warning. A threat. Maybe both."

"About the baby?"

His hand covers mine where it rests on my stomach. "About everything. But don't worry, my love. The Volkovs will learn what happens to those who threaten what belongs to me."

The remainder of the night passes in a blur of careful conversations and political maneuvering disguised as celebration.

I play my role perfectly, the queen standing beside her king, her body visibly carrying the next generation of Ravelli power.