We slow our approach as the top of the aisle is in sight. Out of the corner of my eye, I spother—Eleanora Greco. Massimo’s mother and my soon-to-be mother-in-law. Anger prickles my skin as I look at the small, petite woman standing beside Gabriele, looking timid and lost as she hangs her head, refusing eye contact with anyone. Memories ghost before my eyes, and a violent trembling threatens to take control of me.
Dario tightens his hold on me, instinctively knowing something has spooked me. “I’ve got you,” he whispers. “We all have you, and we won’t let anything happen to you today or ever.” His words soothe the ragged edges of my nerves, and I draw a subtle breath, regaining my composure. “You are more than just a boss to me, Catarina.” Dario tilts his head slightly so he’s eyeballing me. “More than just a friend. You are family, and I protect my family with everything I am. If he harms one hair on your head, he will have me and Renzo to deal with.”
As if he heard us whispering, my underboss turns to stare at me from his position in the second row. He brought his wife and two sons with him today. His daughter is only six, and they left her with her grandparents. I had thought of asking Armis to be the ring bearer, but Renzo is still vehemently opposed to this marriage, and expecting his eight-year-old son to play a formal part in the wedding is not something I could ask of him.
Neither could I ask him to give me away, but he was my first choice. I know he would have said yes, purely not to upset me, but I couldn’t force that upon him either.
Renzo has been there for me since I was a scared fourteen-year-old, and I hate this marriage has driven a wedge between us. Honestly, it’s ripping my insides to shreds. A big part of the second thoughts I have had this week relate to the man who has been my savior in so many ways. Renzo is dogged in his belief this is a mistake, and we have never been so divided. I am satisfied this is the right path to achieve my goals, but Massimo’s ability to rattle me and Renzo’s continuous disagreement have given me reason to reflect on my decision a lot.
After much consideration, I am going through with it because my gut tells me this is the right course of action. I can only hope, in time, Renzo will see I am right and agree to let it go. For now, I am glad he could put his reservations aside to be here today even if he is wearing a face like thunder. Our gazes hold for a few seconds before I drag my attention away, refocusing on my fiancé.
Massimo levels a dark look in Renzo’s direction, and it’s fair to say there is no love lost between both men. I doubt they will ever trust one another. “Thank you, Dario,” I say as we stop in front of Massimo and Fiero.
Dario kisses my cheek. “It is a privilege and honor to escort you, Donna Conti.”
“That is the last time you will refer to Catarina like that,” Massimo says, accepting my hand from Dario. “In an hour, she will be Donna Greco.” I could be imagining it, but his eyes briefly flare with heated possession as the words leave his mouth.
Dario narrows his eyes, not taking kindly to the obvious being stated. “We’ll be watching you.” He stabs him with a sharp look. “Make one false move, and you’ll have me and Renzo to answer to.”
“Your protection of my bride is admirable, so I’ll let that go. But I think Catarina is well capable of handling herself. She doesn’t need you, me, or any man to jump to her defense, and I have no intention of stepping out of line.” Holding my hand tight, he pulls me in closer and peers straight into my eyes. “You have nothing to fear from me. I will treat you like a queen.”
“See that you do.” Dario pins him with a warning look that sends chills up and down my spine.
“Meet and greet is over, folks,” Fiero says, flashing me a flirtatious smile. His wild bleach-blond locks have been tamed, artfully styled back off his face, highlighting his exquisite bone structure, big blue eyes, and wide mouth with full lips. Like my husband-to-be, he’s sporting a thin beard with neatly trimmed facial hair. He’s about as far removed from the stereotypical made man as you can get, and it’s strangely endearing. He shares a similar playboy reputation as my fiancé.
Before the Accardi twins stole the crown, Massimo and Fiero were the poster boys for the mafia around New York for many years.
“The archbishop is about to throw a hissy fit if we don’t get started.” Fiero leans around Massimo, planting his lush lips against my cheek. “You look stunning,regina. A true beauty.”
“Thank you,” I supply as Massimo shoots him a dark glare. Fiero chuckles under his breath, and I ponder the dynamic of their friendship. Dario steps aside to let Nicolina approach, and I trade looks with my matron of honor as I hand her my bouquet.
“Ready?” my fiancé asks, repositioning us so we’re facing forward. I nod, silently willing the butterflies in my tummy to kindly fuck the hell off. “You take my breath away,” he says in a low, soft tone. “You have exceeded every dream I have had about this moment.” His eyes appear sincere as he stares at me, and he’s either purposely forgetting how I snubbed his proposal or he’s accepted it wasn’t appropriate given our arrangement. “I know you might hate me, but I don’t hate you,mia amata. That couldn’t be further from the truth. I don’t want to begin our marriage with any anger or misconception between us.” Lifting our conjoined hands, he brings them to his lips and plants a kiss on my knuckles, purposely ignoring the irritated sigh that heaves from the archbishop’s lips.
It’s rude to keep him waiting, and I shouldn’t condone such disrespectful behavior, but I reluctantly admire Massimo for having the balls to say what he wants to say, irrespective of who is waiting.
“I want to get to know you, and I won’t pressure you to do anything you don’t want to do,” he continues.
I gulp over the lump lodged in my throat as his eyes pin mine in place.
“I want our marriage to work. I promise I will make you happy if you meet me halfway.” His fingers brush against my cheek. “My smart, beautifulregina.” His voice cracks a little as his eyes flood with warmth. “Can you at least agree to that?”
I blink successively, ensnared in his hypnotic trap, unable to think straight in the moment. Absently, I nod while trying to clear the fog from my eyes and my head. “Yes,” I finally manage to say.
He smiles, and his large, surprisingly callused hand wraps snugly around mine as we step closer to the altar and the waiting archbishop.
We hold hands as the archbishop commences with the ceremony, but I barely hear the words. I’m too busy trying to figure out what Massimo’s game plan is. I can’t believe his pretty words are the truth because it’s too convenient, too smooth, too hopeful to be real.
We say our vows and exchange rings, and it’s as if the outside world has ceased to exist. Internally, I’m blindsided and feeling too many things.
If Massimo’s intention was to throw me off-kilter, he has achieved his goal.
That thought is enough to drag me kicking and screaming from that shadowy place in my head. All my senses return, in full clarity, as the archbishop pronounces us husband and wife, and Massimo reels me into his arms, dipping me down low as he kisses me passionately in front of an approving crowd.
So much for not doing anything I don’t want to!
ChapterTwelve
Massimo
