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I wouldn't lie and say that it didn't hurt to know I had to force Samara into marrying me, that it hadn’t made me want to chain her to me and throw away the key. When I'd spent my life wishing this moment could ever be possible, she'd married someone else. I couldn't blame her, when I hadn't made myself an option, but I'd thought I'd been very, very clear about my intentions. Matteo and Enzo had oh-so-kindly shown me that perhaps that wasn't true. But I knew my Little Dove enough to know that even if she didn't want to think of herself as a burden to me, she was also skittish as could be.
If I pushed too hard, too fast, I'd lose her completely.
And that just wasn't an option.
The white dress hung off her light gold shoulders by the barest of straps, dripping to a slit between her breasts. The fabric was light and airy, simple, where it flowed over her hips. It was far less elaborate than I'd ever imagined I'd have when I finally had no choice but to marry someone else in a grand wedding I didn’t want.
And it was all the more perfect for it, because even if it wasn’t a fancy wedding, it was ours.
Father Alessi skipped over moments he knew wouldn't matter to us, showing just how unorthodox the priest with the mob ties was. The man had no patience for weddings, much preferring the confessions he gathered like a master of secrets. And the mob had damn good secrets.
"Lino, repeat after me," he said, giving me a brow raise that made me draw in a deep breath. He breathed out the words that would tie me to Samara, and I didn't hesitate before saying them. My eyes held hers, putting as much conviction into the words as I could and hoping that she would somehow wake up and feel it. Feel me.
"I, Angelino, take you Samara to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part." Her hand spasmed in mine, her eyes narrowing in on the rings that Matteo handed me. I slid the set of three bands onto her ring finger, watching her hand tremble as the oval diamond settled onto her finger, seeming massive against the delicate size of her. The two rings surrounded it with diamond studded leaves, making it look like a flower that a dove would look right at home with.
The band was gold. Her gilded cage that chained her to me for the rest of her life, setting on her finger. I knew she didn't realize the weight of the moment, the weight of what that ring would mean to her future. For Bellandi's, it was truly until death do us part.
And if she ever dared to leave me, in death or in life, I would follow her into the pits of Hell and shield her from the flames.
"Samara," Father Alessi said, and I watched as her head snapped to him. With those blue-grey eyes wide, she looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Terror flooded me, considering for the first time that she might say no.
That maybe Samara wouldn't become my wife on that day, after all.
But when Father Alessi repeated the words for Samara, she turned her gaze back to me and swallowed. Then she held her head high and repeated the words. "I, Samara, take you Angelino to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part." She hesitantly took the burnished gold wedding ring from Matteo, drawing my hand in hers and slipping it onto my ring finger.
Where I'd referred to her ring as a cage, mine felt different.
Mine felt like freedom.
Being free for the first time in forever, to openly love the woman I'd always been destined for. To have someone for myself who knew me down to my roots.
"You have declared your consent before the Church. May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined; men must not divide. Amen."
"Are you going to get to the important shit soon, Father?" Enzo teased from the back.
Father Alessi scowled at him and sighed. "I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Angelino Bellandi. You may kiss your bride."
So I did, leaning forward and cupping her cheek. I pressed my lips to hers gently, sighing in relief when she lifted her face to give me better access and accepted the kiss. Accepted me. It was gentle, tentative. As the first kiss between a man and his wife should have been.
It was everything.
Just like her.
Eighteen
Samara
I was married.
Again.
Mrs. Angelino Bellandi. The name rang in my head, a mantra repeated over and over again as I tried to remind myself that it was everything I'd ever wanted.
Signing my name on the dotted line and watching Lino return the favor with Enzo and Ivory as our witnesses, the reality of what I'd done finally sunk in. I'd married my best friend. Married the second-in-command to the mob boss who ran the city.
And what was worse, I'd married a man who didn't believe in divorce this time. It felt like signing away a piece of my soul, with the rings heavy on my finger weighing me down. If I'd thought it hard to get my divorce from Connor, looking for one from Lino would be impossible.
Standing next to Lino while everyone, save for Ivory, drank and enjoyed themselves felt surreal. Everyone treated it as if this was a genuine cause for celebration, the union of two people who had always been meant to marry each other.
