“Mom, you’re here.”
“I might not agree with your choices, but I couldn’t miss my son’s wedding.”
She steps into the room and pulls me into her embrace. “We’re all we have now that your father and brother are gone. I really wish you would reconsider, but since you’re hell-bent on marrying this woman, I’m going to have to accept your decision.”
“Thank you,” I tell her.
“I’m assuming by the empty room, your future in-laws aren’t keen on your decision either?”
Lorenzo actually came in earlier to wish me luck, along with Dominick, who glared at me and then excused himself to go find his sister since the service is about to start. I heard Matteo is in attendance, but I haven’t seen him, and my assistant, Jack, went out to find a seat. My good friend Malcolm and his wife are also here.
But the truth is, while I have a lot of acquaintances—both college and business associates—I’ve mostly kept to myself since my father died, focusing on building the company from the ground up while taking care of my mom, who was shot and almost died.
“This is what Dad wanted,” I tell her. “He made this deal with the Antonovs and Russos and?—”
“And it was a bullshit deal,” she hisses. “Arranged marriages are not how business should be done.” She shakes her head and then sighs. “It’s not too late, Kane. You can change your mind and do the right thing. You did the impossible. You built your father’s company back up and made it more successful than he was capable of accomplishing.”
“Kane, it’s time,” Lorenzo says, poking his head in.
“Thanks. I’ll be right there.”
I walk out with my mom, and she finds an empty seat, giving me one last glance, silently begging me to do the right thing.
And for a moment, I consider it. But then the music starts, andBrielle walks out with her arm in Dominick’s, and every thought flies out the window. Because even though this started as a way to get back at their family for their part in my father’s demise, being with her is no longer about that. I’ve fallen in love with my soon-to-be wife, and I have no intention of letting her go.
She might resent me for forcing this marriage on her, but she can’t deny the chemistry between us. No one makes her orgasm like I do. And she might not admit it, but she’s happy. So, no, I’m not going to call off the wedding, but I will vow to make her happy every day for the rest of our lives.
When Dominick hands Brielle over to me, I shake his hand and then take hers in mine.
“You look breathtaking,” I tell her.
She smiles softly, and the most beautiful shade of pink tinges her cheeks.
We step up to the altar, and the priest goes about welcoming everyone. He shares a couple of Bible verses about love, and then it’s time for our vows.
Brielle mentioned that we’d be doing the traditionalrepeat after mevows, but when the priest looks at me for me to go first, I stop him before he can start, and Brielle glances at me in confusion.
“Brielle,” I say, taking her hands in mine, “the way we met was untraditional.”
She snorts out a laugh, and I grin when she covers her mouth in embarrassment.
“But I wouldn’t have it any other way. You bewitched me the moment I saw you at the country club. Your independence, determination, and motivation are only a few of the qualities that drew me to you. And as your husband, I vow to stand by your side, nurturing and supporting your hopes and dreams, every day for the rest of our lives.”
I pull the wedding band out of my pocket and slide it onto her finger. “Till death do us part.”
Brielle looks down at the ring and then up at me with glassy eyes.A tear escapes, tracking down her cheek, and I reach out, catching it with my thumb. And then she surprises me when she leans into my touch and grins at me—reinforcing my earlier thoughts that I’m making the right choice by marrying this woman.
“Miss Antonov, it’s your turn,” the priest says. “Would you like to say a few words?”
“No,” she chokes out. “I’ll … I’ll stick to the traditional vows.”
She averts her gaze from mine, but I lift her chin, wanting to look into her beautiful eyes as she repeats the priest’s words.
When she finishes, he tells her she can place the ring on my finger, and she looks up at me in horror. And that’s when it hits me—she didn’t get me a ring. And why would she? I’m forcing the woman into marriage. After she picked the venue, I had a wedding planner take over because Brielle wasn’t keen on planning the wedding.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her eyes darting between me and the guests in embarrassment. My woman doesn’t like to be vulnerable in public, and not bringing my ring will have everyone questioning our relationship and her character. “I … I didn’t even …” She shakes her head.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. Then, to the priest, I say, “You can continue.”
