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Claimed by the Billionaire's Hound
Chapter 10
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The wind off the East River caught the hem of my silk gown, lifting the ivory fabric just enough to let the crisp autumn air brush against my bare ankles. I stood on the flagstone terrace of Christian’s Upper East Side estate, staring out at the constellation of city lights glittering across Manhattan. Just six months ago, I had been standing on a rain-slicked sidewalk, clutching a frayed résumé and wondering if I’d ever pay off the crushing debts left in the wake of my father’s ruined reputation. Now, the sprawling estate behind me was no longer a fortress of suspicion and cold marble. It was home.
"You're shivering," a deep, familiar voice murmured against the shell of my ear.
Strong arms slid around my waist, pulling me back against a chest clad in a bespoke, midnight-blue tuxedo. Christian’s neatly trimmed beard brushed my temple as he rested his chin on my shoulder, his warm breath sending a pleasant shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the weather.
"I'm not shivering," I protested softly, turning my head to catch the sharp, amused curve of his lips. "I'm experiencing the bracing reality of marrying a billionaire who insists on an outdoor ceremony in late October."
"You love the cold," Christian teased, his gaze darkening with that intense, focused devotion that still made my breath catch. "You said it reminds you of drafting blueprints in unheated rooms."
"That was before I discovered Egyptian cotton sheets and heated marble floors, Christian." I turned fully in his arms, resting my hands against the lapels of his jacket. The heavy gold band on my ring finger caught the amber glow of the terrace sconces. "Though I suppose I can forgive you for the outdoor venue. The view isn't terrible."
"The view," Christian murmured, his eyes dropping to my lips before rising back to meet my gaze, "is the only thing I've been able to focus on all evening."
Before I could answer, a low, resonant *huff* echoed from the doorway leading back into the grand salon. We both looked down.
Orion stood on the threshold, his massive black Cane Corso frame taking up most of the double doorway. His glossy coat caught the light, and his warm amber-brown eyes blinked sleepily at us. But the true masterpiece was the oversized white silk bow tied securely around his heavy leather collar. It sat slightly askew, giving the legendary, steel-jawed guardian the look of a very dignified, very large gentleman who had endured quite enough posing for one night.
"Look at him," I whispered, a fond laugh escaping my lips as I stepped out of Christian's arms to kneel down on the flagstone. "Come here, big boy."
Orion didn't need to be asked twice. He ambled over with that characteristic, heavy-shouldered grace, dropping his massive ninety-pound head directly into my lap. His tail gave a few heavy thumps against the stone. I buried my fingers in the thick fur around his neck, scratching right behind his cropped ears.
"He's been guarding the wedding cake for the last three hours," Christian said, walking over to stand beside us, his polished leather shoes clicking against the flagstones. He looked down at the dog with a mixture of exasperation and deep affection. "I'm fairly certain he ate three canapés off the silver tray while the caterer wasn't looking."
"He was performing quality control," I corrected, looking up at my husband through my lashes. "Weren't you, Orion?"
A soft, rumbling vibration rose from the dog's chest—his version of a sigh.
"Quality control," Christian echoed dryly, extending a hand to help me back to my feet. Once I was standing, he kept his fingers laced firmly with mine. "The guests are starting to gather by the lower lawn. The magistrate is waiting."
"Let them wait," I murmured, leaning my head against his shoulder as we watched the distant lights of the harbor ripple across the water. "For once in our lives, we don't have to rush. No corporate saboteurs to unmask, no federal marshals at the door, no blueprints to steal back."
"Just us," Christian agreed, his thumb stroking the back of my hand in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. "And our very expensive, very protective canine chaperone."
The lower lawn had been transformed into a sanctuary of white roses and flickering fairy lights strung through the ancient oak trees. There was no grand society crowd, no sneering corporate rivals, and no flashing paparazzi cameras. We had stripped away the superficial noise of Manhattan high society, keeping only the people who mattered: a handful of trusted legal allies, a few close friends who had stood by us through the fire, and, of course, Orion stationed solemnly at the front row like a four-legged best man.
As I walked down the grass path on Christian's arm—or rather, walking side-by-side as equals, refusing every outdated tradition that didn't fit our partnership—the warm hum of conversation faded.
Christian stopped us beneath a wrought-iron arch tangled in jasmine. He turned to face me, his dark eyes shining with an emotion he usually reserved exclusively for the shadows, bared completely to me under the open sky.
"Clara," he began, his voice steady and rich, carrying easily across the quiet lawn. "When you walked into that restaurant months ago, you didn't just calm a dog trained for war. You walked into my fortress, looked past the armor, and saw the man underneath. You didn't flinch. You didn't back down. You negotiated terms."
A soft murmur of laughter rippled through the small gathering.
"You brought my life back into focus," Christian continued, his grip on my hands tightening until our knuckles brushed. "You restored your family's name, you dismantled the corruption that tried to sink us both, and you taught me that strength isn't about building higher walls. It's about letting the right person in. I promise to stand beside you—not as a keeper, not as a savior, but as your equal, your partner, and your absolute defender, for every blueprint we draft and every storm we weather."
My throat felt tight, a heavy swell of emotion pressing against my chest. I looked at the man who had once been the untouchable titan of Wall Street, now standing before me completely unguarded, wearing his heart on his sleeve.
"Christian," I said, my voice clear and ringing out into the night air. "You're stubborn, you're entirely too controlling with your security protocols, and you have a terrible habit of trying to carry every burden alone."
More laughter from the crowd, louder this time. Christian's lips twitched into a reluctant, helpless smile.
"But," I continued, stepping closer, letting my thumb trace the strong line of his jaw where his beard met his skin, "you also possess a fierce, unyielding loyalty that matches the very animal sitting ten feet away from us. You showed me that justice isn't just an ideal—it's a fight we can wage together. I promise to keep you grounded when your ambition tries to outrun the stars, to challenge your mind every single day, and to love you with the same absolute, unshakeable force that brought us through the fire. We built this foundation from the ground up, brick by brick. And I'm not going anywhere."
The magistrate smiled, stepping forward with the small velvet box. "The rings."
Christian slid the heavy platinum band onto my finger, and I matched it with his, sealing a promise forged in danger, tested by betrayal, and solidified by a love neither of us had expected to find.
"By the power vested in me," the magistrate pronounced, his smile widening, "I now pronounce you husband and wife. Christian, you may kiss your brilliant, terrifyingly competent bride."
Christian didn't wait for a second invitation. His hands swept around my waist, pulling me hard against his chest as his lips met mine in a breathless, consuming collision of warmth and promise. The applause from our small circle erupted around us, but all I could hear was the steady, frantic beat of Christian's heart against mine, echoing the rhythm of my own.
Suddenly, a loud, sharp crack split the air above us.
We broke apart, looking up just as a brilliant burst of emerald and gold light bloomed across the dark canvas of the New York sky.
"Fireworks," Christian murmured, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face as a second explosion rained silver sparks down over the East River, reflecting in the glassy surface of the water. "I told the event planner subtle elegance. I see he ignored me completely."
"Subtle has never been your strong suit, Mr. Vance," I laughed, tipping my head back as wave after wave of brilliant color painted the Manhattan skyline.
Later that night, long after the last guest had departed and the fairy lights on the lawn had been dimmed to a soft amber glow, I stood out on the master balcony in a loose silk robe, holding a mug of chamomile tea. The city hummed in the distance, a restless giant that no longer felt threatening.
Footsteps sounded softly behind me on the hardwood floor. Strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind, and a heavy chin settled comfortably on my shoulder.
"Thinking about blueprints?" Christian asked, his voice a low rumble against my skin.
"Thinking about foundations," I corrected, leaning back into his warmth, feeling the solid, unbreakable architecture of the life we had built together. "The kind that don't crack, no matter how hard the storm hits."
From the open French doors behind us, a heavy, familiar thump echoed through the bedroom. A second later, the large, muscular silhouette of a black Cane Corso padded out onto the terrace. Orion stopped beside us, let out a deep, contented sigh, and dropped his massive head heavily onto my bare foot, anchoring us both to the spot.
Christian chuckled, his arms tightening around me as he looked out at the glowing skyline of the city we owned, side by side.
Down on the floor, Orion let out one sharp, happy bark into the cool night air, sealing our unbreakable, fiercely guarded family for all time.