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I slid it on without question, the cool silk kissing every inch of my tender skin and let him fasten the sash around my waist. When I turned to face him, he stepped closer and brushed his knuckles along my jaw.

“I want everyone to know what they’re looking at when they see you today.”

I swallowed. “And what is that?”

“My bride.”

Before I could answer, there was a knock at the penthouse door.

He didn’t look away from me as he called, “Come in.”

The door opened, and two women stepped inside like they’d been here a hundred times before.

The first one was wearing an elegant pair of black cigarette pants and an oversized cream coat, her dark brunette hair in a sleek bun, her expression quietly curious. She looked like she belonged in an art gallery, sipping champagne while casually destroying reputations with her words. Her eyes lit up when she saw me, but she didn’t smile too wide. Just that soft, knowing curve of someone who’d been here before.

The second one was younger. Her dark red hair was loose and a little wild, her dress too pretty to be accidental. She looked at me with open mischief, but behind it was a sense of solidarity. Like she knew what it was like to stand in a room full of men and hold your ground.

Nikolai introduced us in his usual way: abruptly.

“Amy. Riley. This is Sloane. Sloane, Amy is my brother Aleksei’s fiancée and Riley is Maxim’s wife.”

I gave them a smile that felt too formal and then a nod that probably looked like a bow.

“Hi.”

Amy’s smile widened just enough. “We’ve heard a lot.”

Riley grinned. “We brought coffee. And opinions.”

I glanced at Nikolai. He just kissed my forehead.

“They’re taking you shopping,” he said. “I rented out the bridal floor at Vitale’s. It’s yours for the morning.”

I stared at him and I’m fairly certain my mouth was hanging open.

“You rented out an entire couture boutique?”

He smirked. “You think I’d settle for anything less?”

My cheeks flushed, but I didn’t argue.

He looked at Amy and Riley. “Find something perfect. She deserves the best.”

Then his gaze returned to mine, and something in his voice shifted, became softer, but just as seductive as it always was.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, my bride.”

Vitale’s bridal floor looked like a dream someone designed after drinking too much French champagne.

All ivory walls, soft golden light, and racks of dresses that glimmered like liquid moonlight. There were attendants waiting—young, polite, dressed in black—and a woman named Delphine who greeted us with a French accent so smooth I wasn’t entirely convinced it was real.

Nikolai had cleared the whole place out.

No cameras. No strangers. Just Amy, Riley, and me, and an entire floor of couture at our fingertips.

We’d barely stepped into the space before Riley clapped her hands. “Oh, my God! This is real. You’re actually doing this.”

Amy arched a brow with a smirk. “Big bad Nikolai, getting married in just a few hours. Can you believe it?”