Page 61 of Marrying My Ex's Brother
When I slide it onto her finger, her breath catches quietly. I feel it more than hear it. Her hand is cold. I close my fingers around hers for half a second longer than necessary. She notices, and her eyes narrow.
Alexei coughs behind me, badly hiding a laugh.
I ignore him.
Then it’s her turn.
She takes my ring from the small velvet tray. A simple band. Heavy. Blackened gold. Her fingers brush mine as she pushes it over my knuckle.
A small touch. Nothing. Still, the knowledge moves through me with dangerous force.
Wife.
My wife.
It comes with satisfaction. Savage. Immediate. Deep in the blood.
Dmitri lost her. And now she stands in my garden, wearing my ring, bound to my name by choice.
Mine.
The officiant finishes the final words. “You may kiss the bride.”
Anya stills. Only slightly. Most people would miss it.
I don’t.
I step closer. Her chin lifts as if she’s bracing for battle instead of a kiss. There are witnesses. Men watching. Her father breathing too loudly somewhere to the left. Alexei standing close enough to enjoy this more than he should.
I could make a point. I could kiss her in a way that leaves no one confused about what this marriage means. Instead, I take her face lightly in one hand and lower my mouth to hers.
The kiss is chaste. Brief. Controlled.
It should be nothing.
It is not nothing.
Her lips are soft, still for the first second, then just barely responsive before I step back. She inhales as if she forgot to breathe. Her eyes open slowly, and for one moment, I see the same look from my study.
Anger. Hunger. Confusion.
Then she hides it.
My wife learns quickly.
“Congratulations,” Alexei says, stepping forward before the silence can stretch. His grin is too wide. “A touching ceremony. Very romantic. No one was shot. I’m proud of all of us.”
Anya looks at him. I can tell she doesn’t know whether to be offended or amused.
I do.
“Alexei,” I say.
He straightens slightly. “Yes, Pakhan?”
I give him a look. His grin only widens.
Anya’s gaze flicks to me at the title.
