Page 60 of King of Obsession (Kings of the Underworld #1)

The only compromise he made regarding the night before our wedding day was to sleep in separate bedrooms at the main house to appease his mother, who insisted that traditions were important. He nodded with a strained facial expression and sneaked up into my room once the house fell silent.

I didn’t like the idea of spending all night without being cuddled to him. Without him making love to me, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep at all, not out of nerves but sheer excitement.

As the first sun rays poke through the windows, they gently kiss me awake.

I am getting married today not only to the love of my life, but the only man for me.

At times, it feels like it’s a dream and someone is lurking around, waiting to yank me from my blissful reverie.

Then I remind myself that this is indeed my life—one I will cherish and protect with all of me.

Now that I’ve gotten more than I could have possibly wished for, another kind of determination fills me.

Rolling out of bed, I walk toward the window.

In the distance, I see our home as the preparations are in full swing in the main garden. We’ll have a small gathering of family and closest friends with handpicked, high up people in their organization.

Flowers and balloons intermingle, forming an archway by the pond. A red, long carpet rolls out and seats rest behind the makeshift table where the officiant will pronounce us husband and wife.

I want to be his in every way possible. Brushing my finger along my neck, it feels empty without the collar.

He took it off last night when he gifted me a stunning diamond set that includes a hundred-carat oval-shaped diamond necklace, and matching earrings and bracelet for our wedding.

I feel like royalty wearing it––his queen.

Enzo will put the collar right back on tonight before we consummate our marriage—both things I can’t wait for.

After the party, we’ll be on our honeymoon for two weeks, cruising the Hawaiian Islands on his yacht.

A giggle escapes me as I remember our bachelor slash bachelorette party, where he basically had a red rope separating the VIP area with our private pool, and he scowled, sending a death glare to everyone who even glanced my way.

I felt sexy, cherished, and desired, but the only attention I craved was his.

It was funny seeing him and Mika acting so protective and jealous.

While it was his right as my fiancé, Mika is another story.

A vein almost popped in his neck when he saw what Dahlia was wearing, an even more modest bikini than I had on.

He called me a bad influence, sulking and mumbling as he drank all night long.

I think my sister-in-law loves to provoke him.

I haven’t broached the subject, but if there’s not more going on between them, my gut instinct is askew.

My husband-to-be lives in blissful ignorance that they only have a sibling-like connection.

Yeah, the incestuous kind. I haven’t said a thing, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that the truth has the nasty habit of revealing itself sooner or later.

A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts and when I say, “Enter,” Dahlia walks inside, grinning and clapping her hands together in excitement.

She looks stunning in the blue silk dress with two filigree straps that form an X on her exposed back, flowing down her slim figure.

Her hair is pulled up in a thick, elegant, high ponytail, giving an edge to her soft features.

“The glam squad is here,” she says but closes the door in their faces, telling them one minute.

She approaches me and holds my hands. Clearing her throat, her emerald eyes with blue strands look deep in my eyes. “While my brother gained the one woman he has wanted more than everything else, I’ve gained a sister and best friend.”

Tears roll down my cheeks and she loses the fight with hers as we give in to this highly emotional moment. I wrap her in my arms, assuring her I feel the same.

Then the girls come inside for primping. They style my hair in loose, big curls that fall down my back and dab my face with some shiny makeup and a pale shadow that makes my eyes pop.

Dahlia helps me into my white dress, which flows down my body in decadent lace with a deep V-neckline and two pearl straps that take the glamour to another level.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I smile, feeling beautiful.

My mother-in-law peaks her head inside and says, “Oh, Calla, you look gorgeous.”

While Enzo and Dahlia insisted that she doesn’t need to know everything, I disagreed. I didn’t want to start my relationship with my future mother-in-law on a lie.

“The mistakes of the past should not shape our future,” she said and hugged me, making me promise to love and take care of her son. That was a vow I didn’t have to think about.

As they leave, I tiptoe toward the window, hiding behind the curtain because his eyes seek me out. But I want to experience the hopefully awed look on his face. I doubt I should worry. My man is obsessed with me. I am one lucky woman.

A rap on the door jolts me from my thoughts, and my brother steps inside, looking handsome and rugged, even in a tailored suit. He looks me up and down. “We have good genes, don’t we?”

I burst into laughter as I walk to him. Cupping his face, I say, “I’m glad it’s you. We don’t have to pretend with one another. Our blood is tainted, our hands are bloody.”

“I’ll slaughter this world if someone dares to get near you, malysh.”

“It’s the same for me.” We don’t choose our family, but we’ll surely bleed for it.

He shakes his head at me, but his eyes carry warmth. “Now let’s go before he loses his patience. You created a madman out of my very levelheaded best friend.”

“I’ll take care of him. Don’t worry.” I tilt my head and sigh. “But who will take care of your heart?”

His posture stiffens, and he looks outside the window as if he wants to return to a specific moment in time. “My heart is a desert. Nothing grows there but duty and nothing else is needed. It was killed a long time ago.”

“Oh, Mika, what did you do?”

“What I had to.”

He purses his lips, letting me know the subject is closed, and my heart breaks at his deep-seated pain.

He guides me through the luxurious house that, in comparison, puts to shame the one I lived in back in Italy.

“Are you nervous?” he asks as we approach the big hardwood front door.

“Not at all.” I am at peace knowing I am marrying Enzo—my other half and the only man for me.

As the quartet begins to play, one guard opens the doors, giving me a slight head bow. It hasn’t been an easy road to get accepted by them and it fills me with pride that I’ve earned more than their respect but their loyalty.

It’s two families coming together—the Ferraras and Morozovs—that will forever be interlinked because of our marriage.

Clutching the calla lily bouquet in my hand, I take a step forward, my eyes instantly finding his.

My intention of not crying crumbles when I witness him overcome with emotions. His eyes glisten while the corners of his mouth are arched in the biggest smile. Pride and amazement are etched on his face and so much love shines in those greens of his.

Butterflies flap their wings in my belly as if trying to escape their confines. My breath hitches, feelings overwhelming me.

A palm goes to his chest as he watches me approach. He’s more than awed. He’s silently promising me I have it all. In response, my heart leaps as if wanting to erase the distance and merge with his––becoming one.

Mika walks me to him, and Enzo takes my hand in his, intertwining our fingers. He’ll never let me go. I won’t either.

My man looks beyond handsome—mouthwatering in his dark green and black jacket and pants, a small calla lily pinned on his breast pocket. He’s always so thoughtful.

Giving myself to him is liberating and not even for a second does it feels like a cage. If it is one, I don’t care. I love this gilded place full of love and safety where I can be myself without a care.

After we say “I do” and sign on the dotted line, I soak in the sacredness and significance of this moment when we fully become an inextricable unit.

Eyes locked, an undeniable knowledge tugs at my heartstrings.

Becoming his wife has been written by God Himself with indelible ink in my life’s book.

What a magical experience as we kiss for the first time as husband and wife.

Congratulations follow, and I hear myself thanking everyone. The only person not part of the family is Tristan, cloaked in a dangerous aura and poised in his black suit and crisp white shirt—looking like the King of New York that he is.

He congratulates us, shaking hands with my husband and nodding my way, then he takes a seat next to Mika and his three right hands. While I was wary of Enzo inviting him, now I realize they’re close friends. We need all the allies we can get.

I don’t lose eye contact with my husband as he swings me around on the makeshift parquet floor in the garden.

He places his hand low on my waist while he thrusts the other out and holds my palm.

Everything and everyone else vanish as we dance.

I rest my cheek against his chest and let him lead, take me to the place only he can—blissful euphoria and sweet rapture.

Burying his face in my neck, he whispers in my ear, “You’re mine. I have a signed document and witnesses attesting to that.”

I giggle. “I know. I was there, husband.”

My husband. Mine . I doubt I will ever tire of calling him that.

He groans low, the deep sound awakening goose bumps on my skin. “I love the sound of that, wife.”

One dance turns to another, and we don’t stop as we kiss and touch, enjoying our special day.

Looking around, I see everyone is already at their tables eating when I whisper, “And I have a collar that’s waiting to be put back on where it belongs.”

“I’ll never take it off after today,” he says resolutely.