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There was something alluring about this girl. Francesca intrigued me like no one else ever could. She had since the very first day we met. Once I learned who she really was, the impulse to keep her and make her mine was overriding any remains of rationality I could preserve when it came to her.
She was a fucking wild card – sassy, sexy, and everything I should keep away from. Francesca would have never agreed to marry me if I asked, which left me no choice but to do exactly what I did best – take what I wanted, no questions asked.
Fuck me if her rebellious little self wouldn’t make me pay for doing exactly that. I’ve been standing here like a fucking idiota, cussing under my breath for what seemed like forever already, waiting for this sorry excuse of a wedding to start.
I exhaled heavily once again, my jaw tightly clenched while my eyes memorized the faces of every porcelain saint in front of me. My mind had wandered off to less pacific thoughts, though.
“You’ve just got the wedding jitters. It’s normal to feel anxious.” Liam taunted again. I could hear the mocking tone coating his words.
But he got it wrong. I wasn’t anxious. I was angry. More than if I had one of my deals going south. It bothered me deep in my fucking bones how easily Francesca could get to me.
What the hell has she done to me?
I needed to get a fucking grip. She would be taking my name. She would be becoming my wife. She would abide by my fucking rules. I would bend and break her until this disrespectful behavior was out of her system for good.
At that, the sound of the old wooden doors on the other side of the long red carpet, opening around their rusty hinges, snapped me out of my thoughts as the orchestra started to play Ave Maria.
This was it. This was my fate being sealed to this beautiful, yet infuriating, woman unwillingly walking down the aisle. And what a fucking vision it was! If she wasn’t so drenched in defiance and resentment, I’d say she had fallen straight out of Heaven.
If I was capable of loving, the sight before my eyes would certainly have me falling head over heels.
She looked ravishing in her snow-white, skin-tight dress, contrasting with her jet-black hair. There was a sheer veil over her face, concealing it enough to hide the look on her face. I could only imagine her eyes rolling, a tight clenched jaw, and a dagger-shooting glare aiming straight into my gut.
Fuck! If she had the green light, she would have done it herself with her bare hands, given the slightest chance.
Tenacity and confidence never looked so deadly to my eyes. Yet here I was, out of my own choice, waiting to tie the knot with her anyway.
I expected a strut without fucks to give, a head held high, and maybe even a middle finger pointed my way. Yet I was surprised by her fallen shoulders and a tight grasp around her uncle’s arm. Defeat was clear in every dragged step towards me.
Don Amato shook my hand as he placed Francesca’s in mine, blessing a union condemned since before it started. She took her place in front of me, her head still hanging low.
“Francesca,” I called her, waiting for her eyes to meet mine, but they never did.
I tipped her chin up with my fingers, making her face me for the first time. I could hardly see her beautiful face under the thin fabric, so I slowly started lifting the veil to look into her dark eyes.
“Please leave it down.” She almost whispered, her voice coming out broken, catching me off guard. I expected words dripping in poison, enmity and a nurtured grudge seeping through clenched teeth. What I got instead kicked me straight in the gut. There was so much emotion trapped in those shaky words I could only comply with her plea.
I couldn’t see them, but her voice told me there was a trail of tears running down her cheeks, and I almost thought about stopping this as I raised my hand to wipe them under her veil. She turned her face away, not allowing me to touch her, and I felt that much more like the heartless fucker I was.
“It’s not about you. I don’t need you to fix me. Let’s just get this nightmare over with, shall we?” That’s more like what I had in mind, yet her tone hardly matched the acidity of her words.
There wasn’t a doubt about how Francesca felt about this deal, or me. Somehow it was all tainted in something deeper than anger today. Something more dangerous. I could deal with rage and words drenched in hate, yet this? This was completely out of my comfort zone.
She abruptly snapped her hand from mine, turning towards the priest, giving him a slight nod indicating him to start. A torturous hour was filled with prayers about love and understanding, soul mates, and respect. The irony of it all wasn’t lost on me. It sure wasn’t on Francesca, either.
I progressively saw her standing taller, as if the priest’s words were ammunition and a fresh intake of determination. It shouldn’t have made a difference, but somehow I felt lighter watching her strength returning to her backbone.
“Matteo, do you take Francesca as your lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?” The priest asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“I do.” I firmly replied.
“Francesca, do you take Matteo as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
“I do,” Francesca muttered before turning to me and mumbling the word “NOT” so I could clearly understand her true desire.
"What God joins together, let no one put asunder.” That seemed easier said than done. “You may now kiss the bride.” I finally lifted her veil, taking in those dark, sparkly eyes of hers.
I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t the part I was looking forward to. The last time I had kissed Francesca was after telling her she would be marrying me and not Liam. There was lust and fire in that kiss. Pure hate-driven adrenaline hooking me onto her.
