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FORMER ROMERO ESTATE.
AMELIA
“I do,” says Zedd through a grin the size of my overwhelmed heart. “I do take you to be my wedded bride, to be my wife and companion, to be my always and forever, to bemine!” He shoots a deadly glance at the priest. “I’m going to kiss her now. You got a problem with that? Speak now or forever hold your forked tongue.”
The priest almost chokes on his tongue, hurriedly shaking his head and forcing a smile as Zedd flips up my veil and kisses me full on the lips. The audience erupts with cheers and claps, whoops and hollers. A few guns are fired into the air from the ranks of the newly combined forces of the Volini and Romero armies.
Armies that now enforce a massive new mafia empire that covers Florida and Georgia, reigning supreme in major cities from Atlanta to Miami. It took a couple of months to smooth things over with the big Families running the Consortium, but eventually the ruling came down that we were indeed within our rights to hit Ralph Romero in response to his blatant disrespect, and since our daring assassination started and ended a war at one fell swoop, the Volini Family was entitled to all Romero territory.
Including this mansion, which is now Zedd and my new home.
My younger brother will grow up to take over Florida.
But Zedd and I own Atlanta and Georgia.
After all, we conquered it ourselves.
“Congratulations, baby,” comes Father’s booming voice as he and Carlo come rolling up with champagne glasses and big grins on their faces. They both hug me tight like the family we are, and then Father turns to Zedd. “You take good care of my baby, Zedd. She’s yours now.”
Zedd’s face darkens, and I squeeze his arm to stop him from thundering that I was already his, was his from the moment he saw me, from the moment he touched me, the moment he kissed me, the moment he fucked me, the moment he killed for me.
But Zedd holds his cool and smiles warmly at his new father-in-law, then glances at Carlo Giani, who’s waiting to shake Zedd’s hand. “You do that genetics check on me yet, Carlo? How much Italian blood runs in my mongrel veins?”
Carlo’s face turns red like a beet. He chuckles, then pats Zedd on the back, gestures with his head towards the Romero mansion that’s now the Amelia-and-Zedd homestead. “Your princess is now a queen, which makes you a king. And in our world, the kings and queens get to make the rules, get to rig the game. Well done, Zedd.Saluti, congratulations, and God Bless.”
Zedd nods in recognition that the crusty old Carlo has bent the knee in his own way, and I’m flooded with warm love for my fucked-up, violent, twisted family.
And as we mingle with the guests as a newlywed couple, my wedding dress re-fitted to handle the four-month baby-bump, I glance down at my feet and smile at the tennis shoes that I insisted on wearing, giggle when I see the satiny edge of those virgin-white panties sticking out of Zedd’s jacket pocket, still sticky with the scent of my pussy, the musk of his magic potion, that seductive smell which makes my alpha dog sit up and pant, makes his cock point true north like a compass.
Point to its property.
To its possession.
To its always.
To its forever.
∞
