I shook my head, reaching for my phone to check Santos's latest update. The man was thorough in his reports, giving me exactly what I needed without unnecessary detail. Selene had collected a few boxes of personal items, declined most of the offers to help, and maintained a dignified silence during the process.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard as I typed out a quick response. I hit send, then immediately opened a separate message to Trevor, my security chief.
Danielle Rousseau is no longer welcome on the property. Any attempts to enter should be handled without violence but with firmness. She is to be escorted off premises immediately if she returns.
My phone buzzed with Trevor's acknowledgment almost immediately.
Consider it done. Is there any exception for family gatherings or Dominion functions?
I typed back.
No exceptions.
My mother was right about Danielle. Her interest in me had always been transactional, but in the wrong manner. Her vision of our future included me as a supporting character in her story, not as her equal. She wanted my family name and connections, not the real man behind them or what it meant to be tied to us.
She had accepted our breakup, but never truly moved on. The thought of Danielle trying to use our relationship to hurt Selene wasn’t tolerable.
I mentally inventoried what else needed changing. The east wing had been empty for years, its rooms designed for a family I hadn't expected to have so soon. My mother's interference would actually help; Selene might feel more comfortable choosing how to redesign the space with them rather than me.
My fingers drummed against the desk as something unfamiliar gnawed at me—impatience and anticipation. I'd never been a man to count minutes, yet here I was, checking my watch for the third time in fifteen minutes wondering when she’d be back home.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
May 10th, 2025
I stared at my reflection, surprised to find comfort in the image looking back at me. The woman in the mirror wore what society demanded, yet somehow remained herself beneath the careful artifice.
My wedding dress clung to me like a beautiful secret.
Alaric had spared no expense on the design team—the result was breathtaking. Diamonds catching light across the fitted bodice, off-shoulder sleeves, and a train that followed my movements like a devoted shadow. My hair was down, styled with loose waves, only a few inches shorter than it’d been before.
Penelope adjusted my headpiece, her gentle murmurs signaling satisfaction. Earlier, Alaric's mother had secured a small sapphire bracelet around my wrist. "Your something blue," she'd told me with genuine warmth in her eyes.
Angel, Derrick’s wife, had provided the lace garter. "Something borrowed," she'd confided with a knowing look, "From the night of my wedding. For fortune, and maybe a touch of mischief."
Every ritual held meaning. Ancient customs both constraining and consecrating. I studied my reflection once more. The corseted bodice gripped me firmly, containing my anxiety, yet my pulse fluttered visibly at my throat.
Half a year and more had elapsed since I’d escaped my father’s influence. Two seasons and change breathing freely, without his dictates poisoning the air. But what Alaric offered went beyond liberation.
Slowly, almost invisibly, through dinners by candlelight that lingered until dawn threatened and long drives where comfortable quiet spoke volumes, I yielded to what grew between us. When he murmured “good girl” in a lowered tone, demanding nothing yet making me yearn to deserve those words—I could no longer pretend indifference.
Small freedom came in unexpected forms.
My own sanctuary within his walls—a sunlit reading nook with overstuffed velvet cushions and shelves that climbed to the ceiling. Books whose spines I could crack without justification, whose margins I could fill with ink without fear of reprisal.
Autonomy that arrived without itemized invoices or silent tallies of debt. Yet I gravitated toward him still, drawn to his steady presence like a compass needle trembling north, the way my name seemed to transform from three harsh syllables into something liquid and precious when it left his lips.
Sometimes I’d glance up from the pages I’d gotten lost in to see him watching me from across the room. Others I would wake in bed beside him and find he’d been watching me as though I were some rare, undeserved treasure he had already resolved never to relinquish. Most unsettling was how that possibility—being forever claimed—didn’t raise alarms within me.
Penelope let the veil fall into place, taking a step back to assess her work. “Perfect,” she whispered.
Eirene materialized beside me in the mirror, her smile reaching her eyes. “Perfection belongs to marble and stone. You’re something warmer—radiant.”
“Radiant seems generous,” I said under my breath.
Her gaze caught mine in the reflection, steady and knowing. “After everything you’ve endured and overcome? Today marks the end of merely surviving, Selene. Today you start living as a true Kostas.”
I heard Amara before I saw her—the telltale rhythm of heels against marble, then sudden silence. She appeared in the doorway like an apparition, champagne silk flowing around her slender frame, dark waves secured with delicate gold combs that caught every ray of light. Her eyes, luminous with tears she refused to shed, met mine across the room. My heart constricted at the sight.