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Confusion flared in her eyes as I dropped my hand and smoothed down my dress. My fingers skimmed silk as they ran down the elegant, simple, floor-length gown. My knuckles were swollen and bruised. Acrylic nails hid the torn, swollen nail beds. Underneath this dress was a bruised and swollen, moody sky filled with purple and blue..
I hurt everywhere, even after the painkillers.
But in that moment, standing here in this small, ancient, private homestead off the coast of Normandy, I’d never felt better. I was no longer that woman who'd desperately gone to that island off Mauritius, searching for a way out of the madness. No longer that woman who'd dragged herself to the kitchen in the middle of the night to end her own life, to protect a dark, dangerous secret.
I was soon to be Kat Rossi, wife to a man who'd risked his life and the lives of his family to save me, daughter to a man who'd stood by his son’s side, risking the wrath of the entire Mafia Commission to hide me away.
Soft violin music spilled through the tall, stone doorway that led to an expansive cobbled courtyard outside. Burnt amber hues of the setting sun splashed against the wall, enticing me to step closer and look at the beauty waiting for me. “You ready?” I murmured.
“If you are.” Anna stepped close and pulled me into a gentle hug. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”
“I love you, too.” I forced the words around the lump in my throat. “Now don’t make me cry, I’ll ruin my makeup…again.”
We’d spent the last three hours doing and redoing the damn stuff. Each time, the tears would come and they wouldn’t stop. I hadn't seen her until this morning, not daring to risk Hale tracking them to find me. But there was no way I was going through this without having her at my side. Anna Shaw was my family.
“Then let's do this,” Anna murmured, squeezing me again, then let me go. “Let’s get you married.”
Married…
The word sent a shiver through me as the violin from outside grew louder. Anna smoothed her dress down once more, straightened her spine, and took a step toward the doorway. I tried to remember to breathe and took one last look at the woman who stared back at me from the large oval mirror, then followed.
I walked through that doorway to the cobblestone courtyard. knowing that, somewhere out there, the wolves were circling.
Hale and my father were relentless, hiring mercenary after mercenary to find us.
We’d spent the last two weeks in hiding, moving from town to town under the cover of darkness while my body healed. But really, we'd been racing headlong toward this moment. And as I stepped down the stairs to the small group waiting for me, I realized I’d spent longer than the last two weeks waiting for this moment.
I’d spent my entire life.
The tempo of the violin changed as a young woman stepped closer and lifted a microphone to her lips. She didn’t smile at me, didn’t say words of encouragement, just started singing her hauntingly beautiful song,Lonely.The small crowd parted in front of me as Logan turned, meeting my gaze, and smiled. He looked wonderful, dressed in a dark gray suit, standing tall and proud next to Freddy, in a black tux, as he grinned from ear to ear.
Anna stepped ahead, glancing at Finley, who hadn’t given me a second glance. His gaze was on her, like a lion fixed on his kill. That intensity might’ve scared the Kat I was before. She might’ve seen all the makings of a monster in Finley’s eyes. But I knew it for what it was now…because I saw the same in the arctic blue eyes of the man who stood straight ahead, waiting for me.
Lazarus Rossi wasn’t dressed in a ten-thousand-dollar suit like Hale.
He didn’t even wear a jacket. He wore black tuxedo pants and a white, open-collared shirt. His dirty blonde hair, washed and styled in soft waves, was pushed back from his face. But it was his eyes I watched, as they widened and his chest rose with a sudden breath, and stopped.
Fear punched through me as I stepped closer.Breathe, Lazarus,I urged inside my head.Breathe.But he didn’t, just stood there, dumbstruck. A hard jab to his ribs from his father at his side expelled the air in a rush. I took a breath of relief, casting a smile toward Benjamin.
“Okay,” the small old man murmured from the front of the group. He was dressed in a simple robe and carried a bible so old that it looked like it had been written by Jesus himself. “We are ready?” he asked, his voice heavy with a French accent.
Lazarus just looked at me, waiting for an answer as I stepped up to his side. “Yes,” I answered for the two of us. “I think we are.”
“You are fucking stunning,” Lazarus murmured, earning another hard jab from his father.
“Language, Laz,” Benj muttered, and jerked his gaze toward the priest waiting for us.
But I didn’t care. I didn’t even hear the sermon when the priest started to speak. Words floated through my mind, but they weren’t laden with an accent. They were low and growling, savagely seductive. Lazarus told me all I needed to know in the arctic blaze of his focus.
“I do,” I whispered when asked.
“I do,” Lazarus repeated.
Never once shifting his gaze from mine.
“Then I pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest declared. “You may now—”
Lazarus took a sudden step toward me, not bothering to kiss me, and instead, swept me off my feet and carried me away.
