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When I pulled away from him and turned to face the sad, meager clapping of our families, my gaze landed on Luca. And my heart dropped. His face was covered in a litany of bruises, his bottom lip split and scabbed.
Dark eyes met mine, and the venom bubbling there nearly knocked me over. I recognized the man beside him from Gio’s house. He had a gun resting against my brother’s ribs.
Luca had not made an agreement and come to see his sister marry. He was here by force, which meant Gio had already made him the enemy. Was this all just a farce to get me to marry him? My chest grew tight, and I couldn’t breathe properly. Gio’s arm wrapped around my waist, leading me out of the ballroom.
“What did you do, Gio?” I said through gritted teeth as we stepped into the hall.
“I brought Luca to witness his sister’s marriage. Now we may negotiate.”
“Negotiate?” I tried to yank my hand from his grasp, but his hold only tightened. “He’s your captive.”
He didn’t answer as he led me down a set of marble stairs. Strangers going about their business in the courthouse stopped and clapped, some cheering for the “happy couple” in their midst. I painted a fake smile on my face as the train of my white dress billowed over the steps behind me. And all the while, I wondered how I could have been so stupid to ever think I could play games with mafia men.
I’d underestimated just how manipulative Gio could be. He had me, and he had Luca. And now, nothing would stop him from destroying my family.
He tugged open the car door. “Get in, Mrs. Guerra.”
I slid across the back seat before he settled beside me. Almost the second the door closed, Gio grabbed my waist, dragging me into his lap until I was straddling his thighs.
I shoved my palms against his chest. “You tricked me.”
His gaze skirted over my face, expression softening. I hated him for it, hated that he pretended to give a shit about my feelings. Anger and frustration and bitter fucking disappointment ate away at me, and I shoved him again.
“I did not trick you.” He grabbed both my wrists, pinning them together behind my back. The lace dress barely covered my breasts, which now thrust forward into his face.
“Luca was causing problems. I needed him off the board until the wedding.”
I knew his usual way of getting someone “off the board” involved a bullet. I struggled against him. “Why?” I gasped. “Why not just make the deal with him already?”
“Had he denied my request, can you honestly say you’d have walked down that aisle?”
No, I wouldn’t.
His free hand dragged over my bottom lip, his gaze tracking the movement. “You underestimate the lengths I would go to have you, Emilia.” He leaned in, teeth scraping along my collar bone and making me squirm. “No matter how unsavory the means.”
“And now, if you kill him, it doesn’t matter. You already have what you want.” My voice broke, tears stinging my eyes.
Dark brows pinched together as Gio clasped my chin. “Is that what you think? That I’ll kill Luca?”
“You’re Giovanni Guerra.”
“And you are now Emilia Guerra. My wife. My love.” His thumb stroked my skin. “Make no mistake, I care little for The Outfit or Luca Donato, but I would never deliberately hurt you, piccola.” His gaze held mine, and there were those emotions in his eyes again, pulling my own to the surface.
I wanted to believe him. Had to believe him because the alternative was my husband killing my brother, and me, trapped in a marriage to a monster.
18
EMILIA
We didn’t go home. The driver took us to the apartment I’d first stayed in with Gio, and I could guess his reasoning for that. He wanted privacy.
My pulse thrummed against my eardrums the entire elevator ride to the top floor, and the second the door to the apartment closed behind us, it became frantic.
I took in the penthouse that felt so foreign yet so familiar. In some ways, the old, innocent version of me never had left this place, never left his arms. I missed that. Missed when Gio—even as my enemy—always made me feel safe.
He loosened his bow tie and pulled it free, making the simple act ridiculously sensual. And the smirk that played over his lips said he knew it, knew how much I wanted him.
No, I would not be weak.
My body hummed with nervous anticipation as he stalked toward me. I backed away like cornered prey, stumbling when my heels caught in the lace of my dress.
He slipped his jacket over his shoulders, and I took in the muscles straining against his shirt and gun holster. Fuck. The man always lit a fire in me, and it tore through me now, wild and uninhibited. I wanted him, even after he’d just held my brother at gunpoint at my own wedding.
