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No kidding.Once more, I glance around at the huge arrangements of flowers that fill the space. It’s quite beautiful, actually, and the entire place smells like a garden. Roses, lilies, hibiscus…orange blossoms. I stiffen. The hair on the back of my neck rises. On cue, the church organ strikes up the wedding march.
"This is it," Seb whispers, "and just so you know, I have the rings."
The rings that Nonna had chosen and which I had gone along with. To be honest, I had barely paid any attention to them when Seb had shown them to me earlier. It doesn’t matter, really—not when this entire wedding is a sham. So why does everything feel so much more real right now?
A ripple runs through the crowd and I know she’s walking down the aisle. Massimo draws in a breath, "Mamma Mia, she’s beautiful."
I refuse to turn.
"Gesù Cristo, she’s a vision." Adrian slaps my shoulder, "You are a lucky son of a bitch."
I wince, stare straight ahead.
"Whoa," Seb gasps, "what the hell is she wearing?"
What the fuck? If she’s wearing something that exposes too much of her I’ll—I turn to watch her approach and promptly forget to breathe.
She walks toward me dressed in a simple white gown that covers her shoulders with a high collar at the back and a simple neckline that hints at her cleavage without exposing anything. The lace and pearl covered bodice stretches across her gorgeous breasts. The sleeves are a lace lattice that stretch all the way to her wrists. The dress itself cinches at her waist, then flows down in a simple A-line skirt to her ankles. It’s tight enough to show off her curves without being obscene in any way. On her head, she wears a delicate tiara from which her veil floats over her face. In her hands, she holds a burst of pink and white orange blossoms. Her other hand is threaded through Michael’s.
She had mentioned to me that her father uses a walker, but I didn't realize she'd asked Michael to walk her down the aisle instead. I should have known about this, right? But then, I hadn’t been interested in finding out any details about the wedding. Not when it didn’t mean anything to me. It doesn’t. So why can’t I take my gaze off of her as she comes to a pause in front of me? Why is my heart beating so fast? Why is my pulse pounding at my temples? Sweat pools under my armpits as Michael smiles down at her, then leans around her in my direction. "Hurt her and I’ll kill you." His smile widens as he grips my shoulder, then steps back.
I take in the paleness of her cheeks, visible through the lace of her veil.
I turn to face the priest, who begins to drone. I draw in a breath, then another, forcing myself to focus. Focus. All of my senses click into place. The voices fade away. My muscles relax. My vision tunnels. At the right time, I turn to face her and say my vows, as does she. Then Seb hands us the rings. I slide the ornate gold band over her finger, accept the simple gold band on mine.
Then, before the priest has completed his sentence, I close the distance to her. Her green gaze clashes with mine. I raise her veil and my breath catches. A hot sensation stabs in my chest. She’s beautiful, innocent, and doesn’t deserve what is going to come. And I don’t deserve what happened to me either. I gather her in my arms and kiss her.
Her breath hitches, the muscles of her body tense, then she melts into me. I haul her close enough that her breasts flatten against my chest. Her lips cling to mine then part, and I sweep my tongue inside her mouth. I tilt my mouth, deepen the kiss, and a moan trembles up her throat. I swallow it, suck on her tongue, ravish her mouth for a second longer, then I tear my mouth from hers. The clapping and the cheers from the assembled crowd wash over me. I stare down at her trembling lips, her wide gaze as my chest rises and falls.
"What’s wrong?" she whispers. "Axel, what are you going to do?"
I bare my teeth as I release her, "I am going to take my revenge."
She shakes her head, opens her mouth, but I am already moving. I pivot on my heel, grab Seb’s gun from his holster, then turn. I spin her around and haul her to me, then point the gun at Michael.
"Down," I snarl, "get the fuck down."
35
Theresa
One moment, he was kissing me like his life depended on it, like he had never kissed me before, like he meant it, like he loved me. He loves me; he does. I knew it because of the way he’d slanted his mouth over mine and wrapped his arms about me and held me so close that nothing and no-one could come between us—or so I’d thought—and the next he’d pulled back, a strange look on his face. A mixture of determination and anger...and a plea for understanding? For forgiveness. My heart had slammed into my ribcage, my stomach had bottomed out, and I’d known then, that he was going to do something bad. Something that would change the course of all of our lives.
Something I’d never be able to forget in the years ahead. I’d opened my mouth to scream, but he’d already spun around, grabbed Seb’s gun, then yanked me to him. My breath had caught in my chest and my fingers had trembled, even as I’d clutched at my wedding bouquet.This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.My knees had almost given way from under me and his grip around me had tightened.
"Get down," he’d waved the gun at Michael, "get the fuck down."
The whisper of guns being unholstered fills the space. The next moment every single Sovrano brother except Seb points their gun at Axel.
"Put your gun down," Axel growls at Michael.
Michael glances from him to me, then back at him. "What are you going to do with her," he asks in a low voice.
"She’s my wife now," he laughs, a harsh mean sound that sends a shiver of fear down my back, "and I’ll do what I want with her."
Michael takes a step forward and Axel clicks his tongue, "I wouldn’t do that if I were you."
I must make a noise, for Michael’s gaze darts back to me. He draws in a breath.
