What the actual fuck?
Shakespeare dies as I lock eyes with the best man, who’s standing at the altar next to Luna’s husband. Those eyes are Caribbean blue, and they stared into my soul while his face was buried between my thighs and he sucked my clit like it was the most delicious lollipop he’d ever tasted.
He’s tall, dark-haired, and even sexier in the sunshine than he was that night, his tatted hands at his sides, a white linen shirt draped over his broad chest and hiding his eight-pack from view.
It’s Alessio.
Oh my God. Oh my fucking God.
Alessio, whom I slept with two nights ago, is the best man.
But that doesn’t make any sense at all, because Luna told me that Priest’s brother is the best man, and that would mean…
I stumble in the sand as realization hits me, almost humiliating myself by pitching face first into the beach.
I had a one-night stand with Luna’s brother-in-law.
Not just her brother-in-law either.
A mobster. A dangerous criminal. A man who probably orders hits the way the rest of us do hamburgers in the drive-through lane. An investor, my ass. That lying, shady, smoking-hot jerk.
My face is on fire as I make my way to the place where the wedding planner told me to stand during our practice run this morning, which was conducted with the bridal party only. The men had done theirs separately, or I might not have made my hideous discovery in front of an audience.
Gripping my bouquet so hard that I’m about to snap off the unsuspecting stems, I face the guests, looking to where Luna should appear any second to make her way down the aisle. To make matters worse, apparently not all the thorns were removed from the roses, because one of them bites viciously into my palm.
The violinist gracefully shifts to a new song.
As the strains of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” begin to play, Luna heads down the aisle, her eyes locked on Priest. Her hair is styled in beachy waves, and she’s dripping in diamonds, one white rose tucked into her hair. She’s the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, like something straight out of one of thoselifestyle magazines you page through and thinkno one looks like that in real life. But she does.
And this is her day.
I can ignore Alessio. So what if we slept together? We sure as hell won’t be repeating that terrible mistake a second time. I’ll be polite and distant and pretend I don’t know who he is.
Blinking furiously, I focus on Luna and Priest as they meet at the altar. He holds out a hand to her, and she takes it. The love shining in both of their eyes is almost too much to watch without bawling.
Shakespeare, I remind myself, trying to return to where I was.
But I make the mistake of casting a glance in Alessio’s direction instead. A jolt of awareness shoots through me, my body recognizing his in an instinctive way I can’t seem to control. My nipples harden and my pussy pulses and this is so not the place or the time. I don’t know what I read in his eyes. But he doesn’t look any happier than I am about this unpleasant development, so I jerk my eyes back to the happy couple.
Priest is kissing Luna’s hand now and telling her he loves her in Italian. It’s like a Hallmark movie come to life. Objectively, Priest is also one sexy-as-fuck man, and he and Luna are an unfairly genetically blessed couple. They’re going to make gorgeous babies if they choose to go that route one day. I blink some more as the tears come back at the thought of my best friend having a mini Luna. I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.
I’m five seconds away from turning into a blubbering mess.
Thankfully, the officiant saves me, stepping in to begin the ceremony.
Except the words are every bit as moving. I can’t help but listen. Can’t help but watch the way Priest and Luna look at each other, like they’re the only two people in the world. I don’t thinkChristian ever looked at me that way, not even on the day he proposed.
But I guess he didn’t love me like he said he did either, or he wouldn’t have cheated on me. The reminder of his betrayal doesn’t sting quite as much now that I’ve had a little while to unwind in St. Thomas. Getting to spend a few days with Luna in person rather than relying on FaceTime and texts did me a world of good. Sometimes, there are problems that only a bestie and a good glass of wine—or two—can solve.
It had nothing to do with having incredible, mind-melting orgasms all night long, courtesy of a certain mobster. Absolutely not.
I won’t think about him.
I won’t even look at him.
I won’t?—
Damn it, as if my eyes have a will of their own, they flick to Alessio. He’s watching me. It’s the same kind of stare I imagine a lion might give to its prey before he swallows it whole. I’m hit with a melting wave of heat, and it has nothing to do with the blazing Caribbean sun overhead and everything to do with the memory of what those tatted hands and that sinner’s mouth did to me during our night together.
