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Massimo
"You ready for this?" Adrian asks from near my elbow.
I should be more nervous. I’ve seen my brothers get nervous at their weddings. I saw them shuffle their feet and roll their shoulders to relieve tension as they waited for their brides to walk up the aisle. I had to calm them, joke with them, until they settled down.
I should be more than nervous. I should be petrified at the thought of joining myself willingly in matrimony to a woman who, clearly, doesn’t want to marry me. A woman who doesn’t feel the same way I do. A woman who, possibly, hates me for how I manipulated her into marrying me. A woman who’s going to find every opportunity to avoid me and stay in a different country after she marries me.
I should be angry with her for having tried to pass off someone else as her fiancé, but I’m not. All that heartache and struggle, and trying to figure out a way to bind her to me, was worth it because she’s marrying me now. And once she’s mine, I’ll never let her go. Something she’s going to find out soon enough.
"I’m good," I reply.
He shuffles his feet and I side-eye him. "What is it? You seem more nervous than me."
He peers about the gathered crowd and his face falls.
"She’s not here, is she?" I murmur.
"Don’t know what you’re talking about," he snaps.
"Sure you do. You’re looking for Cass, and you’re disappointed she’s not back for my wedding."
"This is her family. She’s loyal to all of us. I’d have thought she wouldn’t miss your wedding."
"She probably doesn’t know about the wedding, and even if she did find out about it, maybe she’s too far away to get here from wherever she is. It’s not like I gave anyone enough notice to prepare for the wedding."
"Maybe." He locks his hands behind his back. "Still, I can’t believe she’d leave without having a way to keep in touch with what’s happening back home. She’s loyal to the Sovranos."
"Maybe she doesn’t want to come. Maybe she wants you to go to her. Have you thought of that?"
He raises a shoulder. His expression giving nothing away.
"You need to figure out your shit before it’s too late,fratello," I advise.
"You mean like you did, by coercing Olivia to marry you?"
"The ends justify the means. She’s marrying me; the rest will fall into place."
"I’ll remind you of that when you’re wondering what the hell hit you. If your wife’s not happy with you, trust me, your marriage can turn to hell very quickly."
"And you have experience with that?"
"Maybe not personally, but I’ve seen enough marriages turn to shit when the missus is fed up."
"That’s not going to happen in my case," I say. At least, I think not.I hope not."Once we’re married, I’ll be sure to make it up to her."
"And if she doesn’t give you the chance?"
"I’ll make sure she does. I—"
A shimmer of electricity runs up my back. The hair on the nape of my neck rise. I don’t realize I’ve turned to glance down the aisle until I see her. She stands there at the entrance to the conservatory in a shimmering steel gray-blue gown that dips just enough in the front to hint at her cleavage before nipping in at the waist and flowing down to her feet.
The music starts and she glides forward. The gold threads through the fabric shimmer and undulate with every step she takes forward. The full-length sleeves only accentuate the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, the perfectly guitar-shaped figure of hers that caught my attention the first time I ever saw her.
I didn’t realize I’m someone who prefers curvy hips until I saw her. But one sight of her glorious behind, and I was a goner. In her hands, she carries a spray of white flowers. Her hair is twisted up, and she wears a gray-blue netted veil that flows down to cover her eyes. She looks ethereal yet earthy, gorgeous yet natural, aloof yet so filled with passion. She looks like she was made for me. Like she wore that dress only for me. Like her gaze is only on me.
The rustling of clothes, the sound of someone coughing, of shuffling feet—all of it fades as she draws near. When she reaches me, she turns to face me, her lips adorned in a transparent lip color which, along with the netting that falls over her eyes, makes her look mysterious, and secretive, and so very seductive.
The officiant, who was roped in to preside over the ceremony, clears his throat. I barely listen to him as he recites the necessary words. I can’t take my gaze off of her face as she says, "I do."
