I shouldn’t have come. I need to stop saying yes to Vin.
The guard reaches me and takes me by the arm, but I stand still, resisting him.
“Come this way, please,” he says.
I don’t budge. “Where are you taking me?”
“Please.” His eyes are kind, which is confusing and makes my pulse climb faster. “It is Mr. Demonio’s request.”
I glance at the exit. Then at Ashlyn who is seated now, her back to me. I look at the guard’s careful hand on my arm.
Frig. I came this far.
“All right,” I say quietly.
He walks me through the crowd toward the front of the room and everyone moves aside without being asked, staring at me curiously but pretending to mind their own business. I keep my eyes forward, my chin level. My heart is pounding out of my chest.
Vin is standing at the end of the first row of chairs. When the guard delivers me to him and steps back, Vin looks at me for one long second.
He is wearing the suit I picked for him. He looks incredible, freaking stunning as usual. It would be easier if he didn’t.
Vin gestures to Matti and says something low and brief. Matti nods and stands, then whispers to Siena, triggering a domino effect as the message passes down the row. Everyone in the rowstands and moves down one seat, and Tommy brings a chair to the far end of the row and sits down.
Vin tilts his head to the now-empty seat next to his. My face flushes with heat. He moved everyone. For me.
My eyes widen as I flit my gaze around the room. Everyone is watching. Everyone is seeing this. With the Irish here, this can’t be good. What is he doing?
Blushing, I don’t know what to do but follow his direction and sit stiffly on the edge of the seat he emptied for me.
Whispers move through the room like a wave. I can feel everyone’s eyes boring into the back of my head.
After a few minutes, the hush of conversation grows louder, fighting with the sounds of the string quartet for dominance. The casket is less than 10 feet away from us; there’s a painted portrait of Aurelio on a stand at its foot.
Vin’s muscular thighs spill over his chair as do mine, though not because they’re muscular. His hand moves between us. Before I can shift away, the back of his fingers brush against my thigh just above my knee and stay there. I continue looking forward but every fiber of my focus is on where he’s touching me.
His fingertips dig into my thigh, and he curls his fingers, gripping the fabric of my dress in his fist. I look down at his hand, white-knuckled in the dark wool of my dress and my breath catches.
He’s struggling, and my heart cracks open for him. He’s been dreading today for over a year. I cover his hand with mine and pat it once, twice, then start to pull away.
He lets go of my dress and takes my hand.
Lacing his fingers through mine, he pulls our joined hands into his lap. I don’t pull back. It’s his father’s funeral. It’s a hard day. I’d do this for anyone.
That’s all this is.
The priest directs guests to move away from the casket and gives Vin a nod. Vin stands, pulling me up with him. I let go of his hand as he turns and moves toward the casket, falling back so he can go ahead.
He glances back at me, frowning, then reaches back and takes my wrist.
“Never walk behind me.” His voice is barely a murmur, low enough that only I can hear it. “I need to feel you next to me or see you in front of me every minute. I’m never going to be away from you again.”
I stare at his profile.
What?
Siena, Matti, Tommy, Giovanna—everyone in our line of seats is waiting for us to move, so I follow him without making a scene. But in my head, I’m freaking out.
We stand in front of Aurelio’s casket, and despite my racing thoughts, I take a moment to look at his corpse. The scar that cuts from his jaw to his nose that I gave him when I was a child. The bulge of his neck over the collar of his suit.
