Chapter 91|Finale.

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**SEPTEMBER

**Isabelle’s P O V

In a Vera Wang ivory silk faille sweetheart ballgown with a hand-pleated bodice and French tulle sleeves, my hands crooked into Uncle Drake’s elbow and we walked down the aisle to the soft sound of the “Canon in D” playing in the background. I was nervous, beads of sweat perspiring on my neck at the feel of so many pairs of eyes focused on me.

My veil was covering half of my face and I was too focused on watching my steps and not tripping on the floor and giving everyone a show to notice who sat where and who smiled how. I had Arabella to do that for me.

As my maid of honour she went first with Lucas who was Alexander’s best man in a champagne gold mermaid style dress with a cute sweetheart neckline. All the other bridesmaids have their dresses differing from the neckline and dress length.

Uncle Drake handed me over to Alexander but not before making the handsome man dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit promise to protect me at all costs, cherish and love me at all times.

Alexander worded out his promise with dead clarity and self assurance and took my hand into his after Uncle Drake placed a kiss on my forehead.

I felt teary-eyed all of a second and had to blink back the tears that approached at a neck breaking speed.

We exchanged our vows from the deepest part of our hearts, he gingerly raised the veil up and when the priest announced us husband and wife lifted my chin up and our gazes struck.

“You’re the most beautiful woman,” He whispered, “And I’m more than enthralled that you’re mine and mine alone Mrs. Alexander King De Luca.” Then he dove in for a kiss that lasted a lifetime.

Lucas muttered behind us and hid his words with a cough but we heard him and didn’t comply to the request behind the words, “Too long.”

The guests erupted into applause and a lot of cheering as we pulled back, he placed his forehead against mine and whispered “This means forever.” He sealed his promise with a kiss to my knuckles, grazing the skin with his teeth.

When I threw my bouquet it fell in Athena’s hands and she was the least interested person but was thrilled after it did.

We had our first dance as husband and wife to “A thousand years” by Christina Perri, I had my next dance with Uncle Drake while Alexander danced with Aunt Angelina. Everyone else joined including my grandfather who was watching the whole event through Old Bea’s live video. Yes she uses an iPhone and so does he.

I danced with Damon last and it was clear as daylight that he wasn’t into mediocre stuff like dancing. He looks bored and looks like he belongs in a medieval war scene and would rather be in one than at a wedding where everyone’s cheerful.

“I take it you don’t do this a lot.”

I felt him tense beneath my fingers and a dozen feelings skyrocketed into him. Feelings I didn’t bother to analyse because it meant intruding on his privacy. Damon is tight lipped for a reason and when he feels like speaking out about those reasons it’ll be by his own doing and not by force or by someone finding them out through unnatural ways like I could if I wanted to. The shield around him truly is quite formidable just like the man himself is.

“Not my favourite thing to do.” He quipped, his eyes went to the couple on our right, Francis and Athena; they seemed to be totally lost in the moment, wrapped in their bubble with their eyes stuck to each other.

I took a risk by speaking, “You want what they have, don’t you?”

He avoided my eyes searching for…. my husband.

Damn it sounds good in my head.

Husband.

When his eyes rested on Alexander’s I understood what game he was playing at. Damon might be good at avoiding conversations but I’m better at being a nuisance.

“You wish your mate was in your arms gazing at you like the world revolves solely around you and for you, don’t you Damon? Letting one person in doesn’t mean exposing your whole heart to the world.” I watched as he caught Alexander’s attention, inclined his head slightly to the side and the beckoned man strode to us immediately.

“Your wife needs your attention and I’m sure you need hers too.” His lips pulled to the side in a smirk. A very forced sardonic one and right before he ambled past me he whispered lowly in my ear.

“I might.”

I nearly did a happy dance at the spot because this is Damon we’re talking about. Damon Creed who doesn’t ever talk about himself or his feelings. I deserve a medal for such an accomplishment.

No matter how meagre it was, it still is more than what so many other people could pull out of him. It was like pulling out the teeth of a Rottweiler while he’s awake. Impossible!

Dinner was amazing, formal guests had left after lunch and it was only our closest family and friends around for it. Everyone shared stories about the bride and groom, I had Arabella, Aunt Angelina and Uncle Drake share the few shareable moments I had growing up and Old Bea did us the honours of spewing Alexander’s stories. Plus Francis and Damon.

It was memorable and filled with so much laughter. Several toasts were made to the bride and groom.

Alexander and I left the morning after for our honeymoon in Santorini, Greece.

The baby enjoyed every bit of it because it kept kicking as if sharing our happiness and excitements. Santorini and all the other places we visited in Greece were amazing, so was our next stop, Paris. From there we went touring in Seoul, South Korea just for the fun of it and the baby wanted a taste of Korean made Kimchi. Turned out we didn’t favour it much because I heaved all the contents in a toilet bowl a little after consuming it but we made do with Alexander’s food which turned out great and my belly accepted it with no qualms.

We returned to New York three weeks later, Alexander gifted me a magnificent palace in Manhattan and we made lots of love in our new home, then we made our journey to Staten Island in a yatch. It was the perfect way to end an already perfect honeymoon.

A yawn slipped past my lips as the masseur found the spot that ached, the therapeutic feeling coursing through me felt splendid.

“I think that would be enough for today.” The masseur worded out much to my annoyance.

“Not fair, I need twenty more minutes before this session ends.” The ninth moan slipped past my lips as he found a spot on my neck that truly needed what it was given.

“Ten and we’ll be done, agreed?” He asked with a perfectly arched brow.

“Who am I to argue but there’s so much pleasure in this I feel like falling asleep right this moment Dear Husband.” Did I mention who my private and personal masseur is? Well it’s the great Alpha Alexander De Luca. None but my mate and my husband.

He lowered his head to my ear, “Why do I feel like you’re doing this deliberately?”

My eyes were closed when he asked but they bolted open at the question. “What am I doing?”

“These sounds of pleasure that slip past your lips.” He quipped.

“The reason why they slip out is obvious, I’m being pleasured, aren’t I? This is the most pleasurable thing I’ve had in quite a while.” I stuck my tongue out teasingly.

“You wound me.” His hand went to the left side of his chest and on his face was an expression that synced with his words, “But then you said the same when you had Ice-cream last week, and the street food in Paris too, and…” I shushed him with my fingers by placing them over his parted lips that were seconds from going in with so many more examples.

Can’t a woman have the simple pleasure of saying that again? It stems from being actually pleasured to admit it. Now I sound like the pregnancy yoga instructor, she’s a therapist and always speaks to us weirdly. Or at least I find her weird. Not criticising but her hair is cut like a toddler played with a razor on it while she was asleep. Long here and short there, then long again, and short again.

Super weird.

Three days later my water broke.

Alexander has had his moments when he was afraid our child might cause me pain at childbirth. I assured him I was strong but he admitted his true fears with his feelings bared. He is still raw about his mother’s death and the wayward idea he has that he was the sole cause of her death.

“I can’t lose you.” He had muttered in the dark that night, we were spooning as usual and I’d begun having contractions by then, it was two days ago.

“Whoever said you’re losing me?” I turned around, faced him and placed a hand over his cheek, “You’re not losing me Alexander, we’re having an addition to our family, we created this together and we’re gonna love our child together. I’ll always be by your side, always.” I promised against his lips and sealed it with a brief kiss.

Alexander still wasn’t reassured, his feelings had taken over the entire room and it threatened with his peace of mind.

“What if he or she is too big?” He asked.

“Then the doctors will operate him out. Besides, he or she cannot be too big because it’s taking over my size for now.” That was an attempt at a joke. A joke he didn’t even understand.

“We can’t know that, and especially not when from the outside it looks large enough.” He shot off the bed making me follow right behind. I wrapped my hands around his body, countered with his every fear and it was a war worth fighting because he returned to bed way calmer and with little to no worries clouding his senses.

Now back to the day my water broke.

Labour is a bitch. I’m borrowing one of Arabella’s favourite words because there’s none other to define it better than this.

Alexander stood by my side through the whole time, Old Bea was there too and only the Lord knows the number of cuts I marked his hands with. Next time I see a pregnant woman, I’ll advice her to cut off her nails before labour comes because I didn’t cut into his flesh alone, I did so to my own self and felt not a bit of pain.

What was going on below surpassed any and every type of pain I’d ever felt but at the end it was worth it.

It was worth it when a dark haired miniature version of Alexander was placed on my chest and pronounced our son. Our son