Dante’s face falls in sympathy. “Let me walk you out.”
I stand up, excusing myself from the table, before turning back to him. “That’s all right, I’m sure you’re very busy.”
He holds his arm out anyway. “Allow me to insist.”
Backed into a corner, I meekly reach out to take his arm.
“That’s very kind of you…”
SLAM.
It happens so quickly that my eyes water in shock. One second, we’re standing there; the next, Dante has my arm pinned behind my back and my face pushed into the table.
Shit.
“You know, Meribeth. I know it’s been a while, but I’m pretty sure when we last met, you weren’t Italian. Or blonde,” Dante remarks casually.
“Ever heard of hair dye?”
My face is slammed against the table again.
It shouldn’t be surprising that none of the wedding guests seem to react to this. What's a mafia wedding without a bit of drama, right?
But it still stings to see the Californians looking down his nose at me.
“Help a girl out, would ya?”
He ignores me.
“Who exactly are you, blondie?” Dante asks. “Cuz you sure as hell aren’t on the invite list.”
“I–”
“Dante.”
A sharp voice clips at our ears. From my angle—smashed into the table—I can just about make out a flash of red hair.
“Can we do this somewhere that is NOT in the middle of the goddamn reception?”
The hand holding me down instantly releases me, and I find myself smirking as I stand back up again. The fiery maid of honor looks torn between who she wants to strangle first.
Dante, however, only tightens his grip on my arms. “Gatecrasher. Do you want to get Rocco, or…?”
“Take her to Teo,” Red snaps back. “He can deal with it.”
Dread hollows out my entire being. There is no possible way I can be within striking distance of that man. My pick-up will be here any second.
There’s only one thing for it.
I snap my head back without warning, causing Dante to hiss as his nose is crushed on impact. His hands loosen on my arms, and I yank them free, jerking away for him as I turn to sprint out the door…only to feel the press of cool metal against my throat.
“Stop. Making. A. Fucking. Scene,” Red seethes in my ear.
Where the hell did she even get a knife from? Everyone was checked three times before we even entered the church,includingthe bride and groom.
A second later, Dante is back, manhandling me into compliance. “Do you think maybe you might be taking your role as maid of honor too seriously, Mia?”
Mia doesn’t reply. Instead, she turns back to the room. “As you were.”
