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If Roman has mistresses, what right do I have to object? None. And yet, the thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

I hate that it does. I hate that I even care. I force my eyes back to the aisle ahead.

And the moment my eyes land on him, every other thought disappears.

He's standing at the altar waiting for me, hands clasped in front of him.

He's wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal-black suit that looks as though it was molded to him. Broad shoulders, powerful frame, dark hair neatly combed back, piercing blue eyes locked entirely on me.

When we reach the altar, Papa places my hand in Roman’s. That familiar surge of electricity shoots through me again at the contact.

As he helps me up the stairs, he leans in slightly and whispers, “You look astonishing.”

My heart stutters as I murmur, “Thanks.”

The ceremony begins. The priest’s voice echoes through the cathedral, but I barely hear a word he says. Everything feels distant, muffled by the frantic beating of my heart.

When it’s time for the rings, Roman takes my hand and gently slips a beautiful gold band onto my finger. Tiny diamonds encircle the band, catching the light as he slides it into place.

We finish reciting our vows, and the priest smiles. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Roman gently lifts my veil. For a moment, his eyes hold mine with an intensity that makes everything else disappear. Then he lowers his head and kisses me.

It’s deep, possessive, and claiming. For a few blissful seconds, I forget about the hundreds of people watching us.

Only when he slowly pulls back do I remember where we are. A soft, involuntary moan escapes me, and heat instantly rushes to my cheeks.

He leans in close, lips brushing my ear as the church erupts in applause. “Be patient, sunshine. We have all night.”

Chapter 8

Roman

I can’t take my eyes off my wife.

Aurora looks fucking magnificent in her wedding dress. The intricate white lace and silk hug every delicious curve of her body.

The swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, all flowing elegantly to the floor with a long train. Delicate beading catches the light with every movement, making her look like a queen. My queen.

My lips are still tingling from the kiss we shared at the altar. The way she had softened against me, even for those few seconds, the moan that escaped her luscious lips, only makes me want more.

She’s still acting scared of me, though. I don’t like it. She’s my wife now. She should never fear me. We’ll have to fix that.

I watch as she excuses herself, saying she wants to touch up her makeup. She and Audrey head toward the restroom. I signal one of my men to follow them.

Several high-ranking guests, politicians, businessmen, and capos from both families, walk over to congratulate me. I accept their words with minimal response, my attention constantly drifting back to the direction Aurora went.

When she returns from the restroom, my eyes track her every step. As she passes the bar, a group of men are laughing and talking loudly. I see her reaction instantly. Her face clouds over, her shoulders tense.

“What’s wrong?” I ask immediately when she gets to me. “What did those men say to you?”

“Nothing,” she mutters.

I catch her chin gently, tilting her face up to mine. “We’re going to have an understanding, wife. When I ask you what’s wrong, you tell me. Now, what did those men say to you?”

She sighs. “You really don’t know how to give up, do you?”

I smirk. “Never have. So? Are you going to tell me, or should I walk over there and put a bullet in their heads?”