Page 97 of Tarnished Queen

“Fuck,kiska,” I whisper. “You can’t say stuff like that to me. Not if you want me to walk into the reception and keep things decent.”

She snorts. “You’re never decent.”

I wrap my hand around her neck and bring her mouth to mine for one last kiss. “Exactly. Don’t make it harder than it already is.”

* * *

I threw the entire wedding together in less than a week, but the reception is beautiful. String lights and tulle hang from a chandelier in the center of the ceiling, casting the entire room in a magical glow. The tables are decked with flickering candles and massive bouquets. A five-tiered cake in the corner stands almost as tall as I am, blooming with pink and green fondant.

But nothing can outshine Belle.

Music swells as we walk in. I immediately sweep Belle into an unofficial first dance.

“We’ve barely walked through the door and you’re already causing trouble,” she says, complaining weakly.

I hold her close, swaying with the music. “If dancing with my wife is trouble, then I plan to be in trouble a lot.”

“You’re a big dancer, are you?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

“That depends. Do you like it?”

Belle snuggles close to me, her body fitting against mine perfectly. “I love it.”

“Then yes,” I tell her. “I’m a big dancer.”

We finish with a twirl and a bow, and then I escort Belle to the head table. Servers swirl around with appetizers that I barely even look at. For the first time in weeks, my Bratva is in order and my woman is safe. I’m sustained on that alone.

But when Belle notices, she grabs a forkful of chicken from my plate and holds it out to me. “You need to eat.”

I snort. “You’re taking care of me now?”

Her eyes flash with mischief. “You’re going to need energy for everything I plan to do to you later.”

Without hesitating, I take the bite and then shovel in a few more. Belle’s laugh is a constant soundtrack to our dinner.

As much as I want to tear her wedding dress off with my teeth, the reception remains busy. Elise makes a very brief toast that sends Belle into sobs, and then the caterer directs us to the cake to cut it.

“If you smear this on my face, I will punish you,” Belle says, arching a dark brow.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” I ask.

She laughs. “Nikolai, I’m serious. I hate the messy cake-eating crap at weddings. Don’t do it.”

“Only one way to find out.”

I hold out a bite of cake and Belle takes it. But the way she wraps her mouth around my fork should be a crime. I groan, the low rumble shooting straight through my cock. “Do you want this reception to end right this second?” I hiss. “Because I swear to God, I’ll clear every person out of here.”

She giggles, swiping frosting off of her lip with her finger. It’s clear she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.

As the guests line up for cake, Belle and I stand next to the table and greet everyone.

“Do you actually know all of these people?” she whispers between well wishes and hugs.

“I do, but not well. A lot of them are contacts.”

“Contacts? Like… Bratva contacts? Criminal contacts?” she hisses. “At our wedding?”

I shrug. “That’s what weddings are for in the Bratva. You’re either marrying to bind a contract or you invite everyone you know to verify you’re not enemies. It’s all politics.”

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