Page 172 of His Forced Bride

But she retains the warmth and heart she always had, something Semyon truly would be proud of.

"Especially knowing what you're capable of," I say, moving closer until I can speak quietly near her ear.

"He raised a daughter strong enough to protect what she loves. That's every father's dream."

Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining so completely, I wonder if there is any difference between us now.

Two months ago, she flinched when I touched her.

Now she seeks contact naturally, finding comfort in my presence rather than merely tolerating it.

"I never thought I could live in your world," she admits quietly, so as not to disturb the prayer.

"Now I can't imagine existing anywhere else."

"What changed your mind?" I ask, though I suspect I know the answer.

"You did."

Her gray-green eyes meet mine without wavering.

"The way you protected me when I had nothing to offer in return. The way you listened when I had ideas about business. The way you never tried to make me into someone I wasn't."

The honesty in her response tightens something in my chest.

I've spent months watching her adapt to my world, but I never considered how my behavior might've influenced her transformation.

"You always had something to offer," I tell her.

"I just had to learn how to recognize it."

Uncle Fyodor appears beside us, interrupting our private moment as the prayers come to an end.

He carries his usual glass of vodka and a hearty smile.

"The Moscow families are impressed with how you've handled recent difficulties," he tells me, though his eyes include Inessa in the conversation.

"They particularly appreciate that justice was delivered personally rather than through intermediaries."

He's referring to Viktoria's death, though he won't mention it directly in this setting.

The family understands what happened, but public acknowledgment would be inappropriate during a memorial service.

"Family business should be handled by family," Inessa replies before I can respond.

I love that she's taken her role as my wife so confidently.

He nods approvingly.

"Exactly the correct perspective. Your wife understands what many men fail to grasp about our traditions."

The praise isn't casual flattery.

My uncle represents old-school values and doesn't offer respect easily, especially to women who've married into the family.

His approval signifies that Inessa has truly earned her place among us.

The crowd begins to thin as the evening progresses toward its natural conclusion.