My heart threatened to burst from my chest as happiness like never before washed over me from the anticipation of being given to him, as every bone in my body already belonged to him.
There was no me without him, as sappy as it sounded.
Normal was overrated. I halted, and everyone quieted, probably because brides just didn't do that. I gave a quick hug to my dad, murmuring, “Sorry.” Wisely, Sapphire held Kristina close so she wouldn't be in my way, and I ran with all my might to the love of my life, not caring in the least that it wasn't allowed.
He caught me right in time. His hands wrapped around my waist as he raised my veil and our lips met, creating the familiar awareness inside me. Lacing my fingers through his hair, I rose on my toes, wanting to deepen the kiss, when someone next to me cleared his throat, and my eyes snapped open. It took me a second to remember where I was and what we were doing.
Oh my God.
Mortified, my cheeks heated up when everyone clapped and whistled, and I even got a few catcalls from the Sicilian part of the family. The priest just grinned happily. “This usually comes after my job is done,” he joked, while everyone chuckled. Then he opened his Bible, and asked, “Shall we?”
Dom still refused to let me go, and gazing straight into my eyes, he answered, “Never been readier.” And surprisingly, the same was true for me.
“I love you,” I mouthed, and he did the same, and we allowed the ceremony to continue.
In a few minutes, I officially became Rosalinda Konstantinova, the wife of the ruthless pakhan.
And just like that, I forever stopped being a Cosa Nostra princess and became the Bratva’s Queen.
Dominic
“You lucky bastard,” Connor muttered, as we sipped champagne while Rosa danced with her father and all the women fucking wept, finding it touching. All that mattered to me was the fact Rosa had dreamed about this dance her whole life, and she got it.
“I am.” My voice held satisfaction running deep through me, thinking about the rings occupying each of our left ring fingers and my papers of official ownership over her.
Whoever called me a possessive jerk wasn't wrong. She could call it marriage all she wanted. I didn't need a ceremony for the world to know she belonged to me. Rosa became mine the minute my eyes landed on her picture. But having those papers in my pocket sure as fuck helped, as no one could take her away from me anymore.
“Don’t pay attention to him. He’s just bitter because Honey is dancing with Ricardo.” Vitya pointed at the young cook who swirled Honey in circles, as she slowly learned all the moves after removing her high heels earlier. The girl cleaned up nicely in the lemon-yellow strapless dress and her hair down, instead of her sweatpants and oversized shirts.
“Someone appreciates her,” I pointed out, sipping my drink, but Connor turned so fast it almost fell to the floor as he nudged my arm.
“What the fuck does that mean?” His nostrils flared as his voice took on a dangerous note, and Vitya tensed next to me, assessing the danger, which was laughable really. The twins were like the younger siblings Damian and I never had; the connection made in the cell all those years ago could never go away. “I call her every fucking day, try to talk, to get to know her. Bring her food and gifts, and she keeps on rejecting me as if I’m lower than dirty scum. And why? Just because I used to whore around before I met her. That Rick guy sure as fuck isn’t a virgin,” he finished, breathing heavily, his chest heaving while he glared furiously at the dancing couple.
Sharing a look with Vitya, we understood that he couldn't be teased about it anymore. The guy had reached his limit, and I had a feeling he would be going after his woman soon. But I couldn’t help but feel that this whole thing was about something else. She wanted him. Why the hell would she give him her virginity otherwise? Plus, Melissa wasn't an issue in their relationship either. God help me with my kaznachei choosing her as his. Her pregnancy with Yuri’s kid came out of nowhere.
Before I could dwell on this thought much, Vito walked in, and called to them, “Ricardo, are you done dancing with my angel?” With fucking who?
After all the shit that had happened last month with Ciara, he still kept in contact and practically insisted on an invitation to the wedding. He was a powerful ally, and he seemed to have transferred all his love for Angelica to Rosa, giving her expensive gifts and calling her weekly. Surprisingly, she liked it, and they chatted for hours about designing our home. According to her, Vito had amazing taste—whatever the fuck that meant. The Ciara situation was unknown, as his curt replies on the subject were always that he “handled her.”
How the hell I ended up with two in-laws who operated Cosa Nostra in different countries, I’d never know. My kids wouldn't have the chance, even if they wanted to be outside the family.
Vito opened his arms and smiled gently at Honey. “How about a hug for your father, Mirella?” With that, he pressed her closer to his chest, resting his chin on her head while she wrapped her arms around his waist. “The dangerous times are over, my daughter. You can come back home. No need to get information on the FBI.”
We all stood dumbstruck watching the scene; even Rosa and Don paused their dance. I had no fucking idea the man even had a kid, let alone that she ran around the States unattended, covering as a hacker. Wait, he said information on the FBI? That would mean….
Fuck.
She was the rat in the system. That was why Melissa could never track anything on Vito or get him during any of his operations. And another thought came to my mind. They thought they recruited her as a seventeen-year-old girl from foster care who did some shit in which they had seen a talent for themselves. But knowing Vito now, he’d never place his underage kid there. That would have made her a vulnerable target. She had to be here for the last two years, since Connor had sex with her once she turned eighteen, and it had been more than a year since that.
“Mirella Rossi,” Vitya said carefully, cleared his throat, and continued, “The daughter of Vito Rossi and his first wife, Adeline. Half German, half Italian. Twenty-three years old, one of the best hackers in the world, going under the nickname Spider. Lethal soldier.” Then he glanced at Connor who stood silent while Honey, noMirella, gazed at him guiltily, and he proclaimed, “You are so fucked, man.”
I had a hard time with Don getting him to agree on me being the husband for his daughter due to the mafia world. And a mafia boss ever agreeing to an FBI agent marrying his precious angel? Yeah, that was not going to happen.
Connor was indeed fucked.
Rosa
Closing my eyes, a soft moan escaped as Dominic nipped gently on the back of my neck, trailing kisses down my back as he slowly lowered the zipper bit by bit, making sure no uncovered skin was left untouched.
