Baylor directs Nico and I where to stand to form a receiving line. My brother is the first to congratulate us.
“Krew, thanks for making sure Bruetta made it in time for the wedding.” Nico says pulling my brother into a bro hug.
“It was my pleasure man.” Krew steps back, smiling.
“Thank you Krew,” I say.
He wraps his arms around me next, towering over me now that he’s twenty-two years old.
“Anytime.”
My brother is reserved and quiet. He doesn’t cause trouble but if someone starts some bull shit, he’ll finish it.
Inching back he holds my gaze. “I’m so happy you’re back.” Sadness and sincerity cover his handsome features.
I smile. “Me too.”
With my enemies circling me like a shark, I didn’t think my brother may have needed me over the years. Even though we talked every other day. And my family often visited me in Florence. But I get it. Having your sister living nearby is a different level of support.
After talking with guests, I break away from Nico, leaving him to talk to his cousins Catch and Ritchie.
I stalk over to the bar. The backyard had been turned into a wedding oasis. The all white bar is positioned under the covered pergola. Eight bar stools line the bar. Guests can stay late into the night and enjoy themselves.
“Congratulations,” the bartender says.
“Thank you.” I smile.
“What can I get for you?” The bartender is wearing a white dress shirt, black tie, and black slacks blending in with the elegant theme.
“A glass of white wine.”
I peek around the venue noticing the servers are dressed in the same uniform. Only difference they’re wearing a black vest over the dress shirt.
There are no more than fifty people here. The mafia wives make up a pretty big chunk of our guest list. I saw Sergio and Dillon when I walked down the aisle. I don’t see them now. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were somewhere talking business. Armed guards stroll the perimeter. Blacked out sunglasses hide their eyes, tiny earpieces rest in their ears no one can see. Their uniforms are navy suits and black boots. AR-15s rest against their chests hanging from slings. Their gloved fingers poised near the trigger. This had been the life of a mafia princess. Now it’s the life of a mafia wife.
The bartender places the wine glass before me.
“Enjoy.”
I raise the glass. “Thanks.”
Muscled arms bracket me in at the bar, his lips brushing my ear. Tingles shoot up my spine. “You have something that belongs to me… wife.” His deep voice sets my core on fire and sends my heart racing.
Does he know? No, he couldn’t. I do my best to play it cool.
I sip my wine ignoring my new husband.
“You kept my pussy from me for five fucking years,” he grits out.
My heartbeat slows. And my shoulders relax.
“Once I left, Nico it was no longer yours.”
He snorts. “We both know that’s a lie.”
Nico snakes his arm around my waist pulling me away from the bar. He flags down a server.
“Mrs. Pitucco, are you hungry?” He asks.
