Chapter 68 The Vows

Chapter 68 The Vows
Ivy’s POV

(Two Months Later – Private Ceremony, Late Afternoon)

The air is thick with heat and hunger—not from the weather, but from him.

From us.

There’s no church bells, no cathedral ceilings, no sweeping orchestras. No smiling relatives or clinking glasses. Just the soft rustle of fabric, the scent of lilies curling through the air, and the low thrum of tension that vibrates between our bodies like a second heartbeat.

This isn’t a wedding. This is a reckoning.

It’s been two months since the attack. Since we buried the version of ourselves that believed peace was simple. Since the miscarriage nearly gutted me and nearly broke him. We never truly healed—we just got sharper. Meaner. Closer.

Now here we are.

Standing in front of one another, dressed in white. Of course we are. My dress is silk and sin, molded to every curve, the neckline scandalously low because I like how it makes him look at me. His suit is custom—jet black, sharp, almost cruel in its cut—and yet, somehow, he looks like salvation wrapped in sin.

There’s no crowd. Just us. A priest. And Jess, of course. Perched on a nearby velvet chair like she owns the fucking place, a glass of champagne in one hand and her phone recording in the other, whispering “goddamn this is hot” under her breath.

I meet his gaze.

Alexander. My monster. My man. My undoing and my forever.

He looks at me like he wants to tear the dress off with his teeth. Like I’m his last breath. Like he’s starving—and I’m the only thing on the menu.

“You sure about this?” he rasps, voice dark, low, like smoke and sex had a baby. “Because once you say yes, I’m not letting you go, baby girl.”

My lips part. The words are already there. Raw. Real.

“I’ve always been sure,” I whisper. “It was always you, Alexander. Just... you.”

He takes a slow step forward. The kind of step that makes my knees go weak. My body buzzes with need, but there’s more than lust in the air.

There’s possession. There’s promise.

His thumb grazes my jaw, slow and reverent. “You’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted that didn’t come with a price tag.”

I swallow hard. I feel like I’m vibrating inside my skin, like if he doesn’t touch me more, I’ll burst into fucking flames.

Behind us, Jess groans dramatically. “If you two don’t say your vows soon, I swear to God I’ll marry both of you and fuck you myself.”

Alexander’s mouth quirks into a dangerous grin.

“Shut up, Jess,” I murmur without looking at her. “I’m having a moment.”

Jess makes a kissing noise. “Then have it faster. My phone’s overheating and I’m emotionally constipated.”

Alexander doesn’t even blink. “She’s staying for the honeymoon?”

“Only if you pay me,” Jess replies. “And let me watch. Maybe film—”

“Jess,” I growl.

“Fine! God. Keep your mafia kink to yourselves.”

But her snark takes the edge off the heaviness in my chest. I’m grateful for her. She’s the only one who could stand here and say shit like that while I’m quite literally marrying my ex-stepfather and make it sound like brunch gossip.

Alexander brushes a finger beneath my chin and lifts my gaze back to him. “You ready, wife?”

I smirk. “Are you ready, husband?”

The heat in his eyes spikes. “Oh, I’ve been ready to ruin you for years.”

(Alexander’s POV)

She doesn’t blink. That fucking smile—just the edge of it, sly and knowing—curves on her lips like she already knows what I’m going to say.

Of course she does. She’s the one person I’ve never been able to hide anything from.

I look at her—really look at her—and it almost knocks me off my axis. How did this happen? This girl… this woman. My little hellcat, standing in front of me wrapped in white silk and defiance. Chin tilted. Eyes bright.

Christ. She looks like vengeance and heaven all rolled into one. I’ve burned kingdoms for less.

I step closer until I feel her breath against my throat.

She doesn’t move. She dares me to speak and so I do.

“Ivy.” I say her name like it’s an oath. Like it’s sacred. Like it’s fucking mine.

“You were never mine to protect,” I say slowly, letting each word land like a punch to the chest. “You were always mine to own.”

Her eyes flash—god, that spark in her. That wild fire she never learned to control. She tries to hide the way her breath stutters, but I hear it. Feel it.

I keep going.

“You were the one thing I could never touch. Never taste. But I still watched. Always fucking watched. Even when I shouldn’t have. Even when it made me a monster.”

I glance sideways for a beat—Jess is already crying, mascara halfway to her jaw. She clutches her champagne glass like it’s a damn support animal.

I look back at Ivy.

“And then you turned eighteen,” I murmur, voice dropping to a near-growl, “and all that guilt—every ounce of it—burned the fuck away. You looked at me like I was a man. Not a stepfather. Not a protector. A man. Yours.”

Her lips part. Her breathing’s not steady anymore. I know her body. I know what she’s feeling because I feel it too—low and hot and fucking unstoppable.

I touch her hand. Lace our fingers together, slow, possessive.

“I built empires. I buried enemies. I’ve done things that would make God himself turn away. But you—you—you make me wish I’d been born clean. Just so I could deserve you.”

Her eyes glisten now. And fuck, I hate seeing her cry. But I love that she lets me see it.

“I don’t want a wife,” I whisper. “I want you. My obsession. My fire. My greatest sin.”

I pause for just a second. Let the silence stretch. Let the tension cling to the air like smoke.

“In this life and the next,” I swear, squeezing her hand, “you’ll belong to me. And I will never let anyone—anyone—take you from me again.”

She’s trembling now and so am I.

Jess sobs, “Holy shit that was hot,” from behind us.

I ignore her. I lean in until my lips brush Ivy’s ear.

“You’re mine, Ivy. No exits. No safewords. No distance. Not anymore.”

And then I pull back, just enough to look her in the eyes.

“I vow to love you like a madman, fuck you like a sinner, and protect you like a goddamn warlord.”

To Be Continued…