If the ceremony was the storm, the reception was the wreckage we left behind.
After the kiss and the cameras, after the glittering exit to our blacked-out limo, I should've felt nervous. Or soft. Or even in love.
But all I felt was fire.
Because I had just walked down the aisle in a dress I wasn't supposed to wear, married a man no one expected me to tame, and now I was about to walk into the most elite ballroom in the city… and make them watch.
The venue was nothing short of royalty.
Vaulted ceilings dripped with crystal chandeliers. White orchids flooded every table. Hundreds of guests filled the space — CEOs, billionaires, celebrities, and power players who had never seen me as anything but a pawn.
Until tonight.
I disappeared into the private bridal suite just before the first introduction and slipped out of the ceremony gown.
And into the dress that would make every damn person in the room shut their mouths and watch me burn.
Black.
Not soft, not sweet — but midnight black, liquid silk. Fitted to the bone, high slit, strapless with a plunging V-cut held up by sheer mesh that dipped dangerously low.
The back? Gone.
Just skin and shadows.
And the heels? Stilettos sharp enough to kill.
I added a diamond cuff on each wrist and left my hair loose, wild, and glossy down my back.
Then I looked in the mirror.
This wasn't a bride.
This was a queen.
The music shifted.
The ballroom doors opened.
And Dominic and I were announced like royalty
"Mr. and Mrs. Dominic Blackwell."
But when I stepped into that room — black silk moving like smoke around my legs — every head turned… and stayed.
People whispered.
A few jaws dropped.
But Dominic?
He smiled like a wolf who just watched his bride walk into the battlefield armed to the teeth.
He leaned close, fingers brushing my bare back.
"This wasn't in the plan," he whispered.
"Neither was falling for a man like you," I shot back.
He laughed — low and proud. "You're gonna cause a riot."
"Good," I said, pulling back to look him dead in the eyes. "Let them run their mouths. I came to be seen."
We danced.
He led, like he always did, confident, powerful, completely in control.
But I wasn't following.
I was matching him.
Step for step.
Smile for smile.
And by the second verse of the song, people weren't watching him anymore.
They were watching me.
The girl from nothing.
Now the woman they'd never forget.
People came to greet us. Offer congratulations. Give toasts.
Some fake smiles.
Some backhanded compliments.
Some women who couldn't hide the way they looked at Dominic — or the way their smiles froze when he didn't take his hand off my waist even once.
But the one who surprised me was the older woman in red, diamonds around her throat and judgment in her eyes.
His mother.
Irene Blackwell.
She kissed both my cheeks like we weren't at war and whispered:
"I underestimated you."
I smiled with all teeth. "A lot of people did."
She raised her glass. "Then you'll do just fine."
By midnight, the music was pounding. The champagne kept flowing. And I was still in that black dress, untouched, untouched, and unforgettable.
Dominic had barely left my side.
But when he finally did — to speak to a business partner across the room — someone tried me.
A man I didn't know.
Slick suit. Cocky smile.
"Can't believe Blackwell actually put a ring on someone," he said, eyeing me up like I was a menu. "Thought he liked his toys quiet."
I tilted my head. Smiled.
Then stepped in close.
"You want a quiet woman?" I said softly. "Try the third table by the window. Her name's Marissa and she'll pretend to laugh at your jokes."
He blinked, startled.
I leaned even closer.
"But if you so much as look at me like that again, I'll break your fingers in front of your father's investment group. Got it?"
He choked on his reply.
I walked away.
And right into Dominic.
He must've seen the whole thing. His hand slid around my hip, hard and hot.
"What did he say to you?"
"Nothing I didn't shut down."
Dominic's voice dropped, lethal. "You're mine. And no one touches what's mine."
"I handled it," I said, facing him. "Let them run their mouths. I'll run the room."
He stared at me for a long beat.
And then?
He smiled.
Dark and dangerous and proud.
"Goddamn, Lila," he whispered. "You're going to ruin me."
By the time we made it back to the penthouse, the shoes were off, the dress was half unzipped, and Dominic had me backed against the glass window thirty stories above the city.
"You think I didn't want to take you right there on the dance floor?" he growled.
"Then why didn't you?"
"Because I want you all to myself tonight," he said, pressing his lips to my throat. "And because I like watching you own them. Every last one of them."
I pulled him closer, breathless.
"Good," I whispered. "Because this is just the beginning."