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Jerry cleared his throat, causing her to laugh.
“The nicest BDSM club in Chicago,” she corrected, and they all laughed.
“So you’re saying…?”
“Yes.” She giggled. “I’m saying it’s our anniversary. I want to spend the night being your wife again. I can’t wait another second!”
Drake wrapped his arms around her. “I couldn’t possibly agree more.”
Alessandra followed Noah backstage but couldn’t find anything on the racks.
“You know, Drake gifted me with a package earlier. I think I’d like to wear the set he chose for me.”
She looked at Noah, her husband’s conspirator, who winked. She owed him so much for bringing her and Drake back together. Her heart felt light, and her smile was genuine for the first time in months.
Sure, she and Drake still had their shit to sort out. But the evening was full of promise. She was to be Drake’s again, though she had never truly stopped belonging to him.
By saying yes, she was forgiving the past and agreeing to forge a new path with the man she loved at her side. Alessandra pushed Drake’s boundaries just as much as he pushed hers.
Inside the box, Alessandra’s fingers brushed a delicate white lace mask. It was a far cry from the heavy veil that had obstructed her face to hide her identity. It offered anonymity, transforming her from a duckling into a swan.
She pulled on the white lace and felt a kick from her belly. “You approve of this, don’t you?” she asked and rubbed. As if in response, she felt another kick.
Alessandra tied her robe and fingered her permanent collar. She didn’t feel caged anymore. She felt cherished, and most importantly—free.
On the center stage, Alessandra and Drake exchanged vows with everyone in the club watching them. Jerry didn’t use their names to protect their identity.
While it was the first official wedding Jerry had performed in the club, he’d been part of collaring ceremonies in the past. Noah said they often compared them to a wedding in a way that typically involved the exchange of jewelry, but instead of a ring placed on a bride or groom’s finger, it was a collar placed around the submissive’s neck. Each collaring was unique to the people taking part, and most ceremonies included vows.
After the ceremony concluded, the atmosphere in the club changed to one of celebration. Drake and Alessandra watched several scenes on the main stage as they cuddled on the sofa.
“I love you, bella.”
“I love you too, Master.”
That night Alessandra left with her Master’s collar around her neck and her husband’s ring on her finger. It felt right like she was stepping back into someone she was meant to be.
***
Epilogue
Tucked away in a Chicago neighborhood was a nondescript building where Goose Island Barrel House paid tribute to the city’s storied industrial past. The warm hospitality and craft beer was just a bonus for their wedding reception.
Drake and Alessandra didn’t have the best track record with chapel weddings and had opted for a unique experience. The 10-foot walnut tables were covered with burlap runners and mason jar centerpieces. Twinkling lights wrapped around the barrel-lined walls. “Part Kentucky rickhouse and part Napa winery” was how the event coordinator had explained the venue space.
Alessandra looked around in satisfaction. It was far from her dream wedding, but she couldn’t be happier. She realized that marrying the man she loved was more important than the details. It was their third wedding. But really, who was counting? If Drake continued to ask, Alessandra would say yes every time.
Alessandra was dying for a drink, as the early days of motherhood were now behind her. As if summoned by magic, a fruity cider appeared before her.
“It’d be a shame if the bride didn’t have some liquid courage.” Marcello offered a one-armed hug as she took the drink. “You look gorgeous, by the way, sis.”
Alessandra glanced at herself in the mirror. She had chosen a simple white shift gown to accommodate her softer curves. As much as she swore she would start exercising, baby snuggles seemed more important. She’d received surprising news from the doctor the day before, and it seemed they would be expanding their family sooner than anticipated. She put the glass down, and her brother raised his eyebrows questioningly, but didn’t say anything.
“Thank you for walking me down the aisle, Marcello.”
Marcello offered his arm to Alessandra and pecked her cheek. No mask or veil covered her face. She never had to hide who she was again; for that, she was eternally grateful.
“Are you serious? I wouldn’t miss my little sister’s wedding for the world. Does he make you happy? Is he treating you well?”
