Vito's POV
The woman in my arms was trembling like a leaf in a storm, her body pressed against mine in ways that set every nerve ending on fire. Isabella. My wife. The thought sent a surge of possessive satisfaction through me that was both primitive and absolute.
She belongs to me now. Only to me.
I could see everything—every flush that painted her skin, every catch in her breathing, every flutter of her pulse beneath the delicate skin of her throat. She had no idea how transparent she was to me, how clearly I could read the war between desire and fear that raged in her dark eyes.
My fingers moved against her with deliberate precision, and I watched her body arch involuntarily into my touch.
She thinks I can't see her. She has no idea how beautiful she looks right now.
But even as p
