And the whole time, Gianni watched me.
He didn’t even speak to the others.
Passion burned in his gaze.
Surely, he felt the same way I did?
Forget about them. . .kiss me again. . .and then take me to the hospital.
Chapter nine
The Devil’s Feast
The grand ballroom had transformed yet again.
Now it was a place of celebration rather than bloodshed.
Hotel staff brought in more opulent floral arrangements. Roses in hues of deep crimson and pure white, interspersed with orchids and lilies, formed elaborate centerpieces that exuded intoxicating scents. The flowers were arranged with such artistry that they seemed almost too beautiful to be real.
I have to admit. . .this is magical.
Soft music drifted through the air, an orchestral symphony that floated effortlessly between the opulence of the surroundings and the hushed whispers of the guests. The melodies were carefully chosen, probably for their lilting notes that easily mingled with the murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter.
Gianni and I were seated at the head of a colossal table covered in pristine white silk.
Every detail had been attended to with obsessive care, from the polished silverware, fine China and crystal goblets to the elegantly folded cloth napkins withCongratulations Mr. and Mrs. Fortunatoembroidered in gold.
One by one, the guests began to settle in, murmuring their approval and clinking fine glassware.
Sitting next to Gianni was like being in the very center of a powerful vortex—the eye of a storm. It was all this intense, swirling, storming darkness that threatened to swallow me whole.
One had to remember that the eye itself was always calm and deceptively serene, but if one moved too far to the left or right. . .there would be only destruction.
And Gianni was a force of nature. I could clearly see his influence and control reaching into every corner of the ballroom. Men and women alike constantly glanced his way, and their eyes betrayed undying admiration and their desperate pleas for his approval.
So much so that sometimes guests would pause mid-sentence, when Gianni’s gaze swept over them.
Others shifted in their seats and adjusted their posture.
Many women fluttered their eyes towards Gianni, not caring that the man was at his own wedding.
That made me wonder if he would truly take our vows seriously. Or if he would be stuffing his cock in every wet hole that strolled by.
To my surprise, a hint of jealousy hit me.
I’d just met this freaking man tonight and somehow, I was already getting possessive.
Well. . .he is my husband. If we’re forced to be together then. . .he better be faithful.
I gazed around some more and realized that the men were equally attentive to Gianni. Their gazes never strayed too far from him almost as if he wastheirnew groom.
God, they really love Gianni.
I thought back to the term that people used to use for Maximo.
Capo dei Capi
If I remembered correctly that term translated toBoss of Bosses—the highest-ranking figure in the mafia hierarchy. This was odd because when I’d left, Maximo had been in that position and now. . .it clearly seemed that Gianni held the authority over all other Capos.
