“What is it?” I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“He said I shouldn’t be killing myself trying to impress people who wouldn’t piss on me if I were on fire.” She scrunches up her nose. “Distasteful images aside, the point stands. And you should take the advice, Alina. Don’t care about anyone who doesn’t care about you. Life is too short.”
With those words, we all hug again, and then Raven and Piper walk out the door.
Taking a deep breath, I follow them. When we’re almost at the aisle, I hide in an alcove. From this vantage point, I can see the entire procession without being seen—a voyeur at my own wedding.
The organ music swells, and Piper steps onto the red carpet, back straight, chin high, moving with practiced elegance. Raven follows a moment later, one hand resting protectively on her rounded belly as she walks.
But my eyes aren’t on them for long. Beyond the women, standing tall and imposing at the altar, is Raffaele.
The cathedral seems too vast for our small gathering, with gothic arches soaring toward the heavens, stained glass casting colored light across the ancient stone floors. The enormous space makes our intimate ceremony feel almost secretive, like we’re stealing this moment from the surrounding grandeur.
As Piper and Raven take their places to the left of the altar, I shift my attention to the men waiting on the right. Lorenzostands closest to where Raffaele will be, his posture mirroring Piper’s refined confidence.
Beside him is Matteo, his single eye scanning the cathedral with the vigilance of a man who expects threats from the shadows. Remus completes the lineup; his stillness radiating authority even from this distance.
And then there’s Raffaele, standing before them all, hands clasped in front of him. He’s abandoned the casual clothes from earlier for a tailored black tux that emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders and the lean strength of his body.
A crisp white button-up shirt provides stark contrast to the black jacket. His tie is pale blue instead of the gray I’d picked out for him. His dark hair is styled back from his face, emphasizing the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones.
Even from here, I can see the intensity in his stance, the barely contained energy. He shifts his weight slightly, and I know he’s impatient, wondering where I am, if I’ll come. The thought sends a flutter through my stomach.
This powerful, dangerous man is waiting for me. Although I want to rush to him, he can wait a little longer.
With a deep breath, I pull back from my hidden viewpoint and walk to the small room where Onyx waits with Susan, who volunteered to keep him company while I finished getting ready.
My cat sits regally on a velvet bench, a small white harness fitted around his sleek black body, the matching leash coiled beside him.
When he sees me, he blinks slowly.
“Ready for your big moment?” I ask him, scratching behind his ears. He pushes against my hand, purring loudly, the vibration traveling up my arm.
“He’s been a good boy,” Susan says, smiling as she strokes Onyx’s head.
Reaching for her coat, she stands and tells me she’ll head back to the mansion and make sure everything’s ready for later.
“Wait,” I say. “Don’t you want to stay?”
I don’t need to know the full ins and outs of Raffaele and Susan’s relationship to know they’re important to each other.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she replies. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“You’re his family, Susan. You should be here.” I squeeze her hand gently. “Besides… your books are the reason I even understood him. Without those stories, I don’t think I’d ever have considered Raffaele’s proposal.”
Susan’s eyes well up, and before I know what she’s doing, she hugs me fiercely. “Thank you,” she murmurs.
Letting go of her, I pick up Onyx, cradling him against my chest. His weight is familiar and comforting, his warmth seeping through the delicate lace of my dress. I take his leash in my free hand, looping it loosely around my wrist.
“Don’t squirm,” I whisper to him, though whether I’m really talking to him or to my own racing heart, I’m not sure.
As soon as I have him in my arms, Susan opens the door and walks with me to the entrance of the sanctuary before slipping ahead to join the others near the altar.
The organ music changes, shifting to the traditional wedding march. My heart pounds so loudly I’m certain everyone must hear it echoing off the stone walls. Onyx seems to sense my anxiety, remaining perfectly still in my arms as the heavy wooden doors open fully.
Every head turns. Every eye fixes on me. The aisle stretches before me like an endless road, the red carpet vibrant against the ancient stone floor. I focus on breathing, on placing one foot in front of the other, on keeping Onyx steady in my arms.
My eyes find Raffaele at the end of the aisle, and everything else falls away. His gaze locks with mine, intense and unwavering. Even from a distance, I can see the muscle tickingin his jaw, the slight parting of his lips as he watches my approach.
