There’s hunger in his eyes, yes—but something else too, something that makes my heart stutter in my chest.
Halfway down the aisle, a flash of color catches my eye. I turn slightly and nearly stumble when I see it—a framed photograph of my mom, smiling, set on an elegant easel beside where Susan stands.
The image is from before her illness, when her eyes still sparkled and her smile came easily. It’s one of my favorite pictures of her, one I thought I’d never see again. The lump in my throat grows painful, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
I didn’t expect this gesture, didn’t think anyone would consider my mom’s absence on my wedding day. But somehow, my new family found this photo. Somehow, they knew to include her.
My steps falter for just a moment before I force myself to continue, blinking rapidly to clear my vision.
As I continue walking, my eyes drift to the front row. That’s where I wanted Sabrina to sit. Despite everything, I asked Piper and Raven to personally deliver my sister’s invitation.
But the seat remains empty. My only blood family has chosen not to come.
The realization shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. After all, what has Sabrina ever done but cause me pain? Yet the empty space seems to mock me.
Silent tears slide down my cheeks as I continue my walk toward Raffaele. I don’t try to hide them. Why would I when half of them are happy tears caused by my mom’s smiling face?
I swallow hard and refocus on Raffaele, on the man waiting for me. His eyes haven’t left me for a second, tracking my progress with an intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
There’s something almost predatory in his stance; shoulders tense, body coiled, as if he might leap forward and snatch me the rest of the way if I take too long.
Three more steps.
Two.
One.
And then I’m there, standing before him, my heart pounding so hard I’m certain he must hear it.
I carefully hand Onyx to Piper, who takes him with a reassuring smile. The cat settles in her arms without protest, as if he understands the gravity of the moment.
When I turn back to Raffaele, his eyes are burning into mine, intense and possessive. The space between us feels charged, electric, as if the very air has become a conductor for whatever this is growing between us.
He extends his hands to me, and I place my trembling fingers in his palms. His grip is warm, steady, anchoring me to this moment when everything else feels surreal.
The priest, an older man with kind eyes and a gentle voice, begins the ceremony, but his words wash over me like background noise. All I can focus on are Raffaele’s thumbs stroking small circles on the back of my hands; the slight pressure a silent conversation between us.
“Dearly beloved,” the priest intones, “we are gathered here today to witness the union of Raffaele Andrea Russo and Alina Kate Brewer in holy matrimony.”
I study Raffaele’s face as the priest speaks of commitment and partnership. His expression remains impassive to anyone who doesn’t know him, but I’ve learned to read the subtle shifts in him. Like the softening around his eyes, the almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth.
He looks… happy.
A warmth spreads through my chest as I hold his gaze, a feeling I can’t quite name. This man who collected me like a debt, yet touched me like I was precious. Who showed me parts of myself I never knew existed.
This man is about to become my husband. The thought should terrify me, but instead, I feel a strange sense of rightness, as if all paths were always leading here.
His skin is warm, his grip firm yet gentle. A strange heat spreads through my chest at the contact, something unfamiliar and frightening in its intensity.
Is this normal? This feeling like my heart is simultaneously too big for my chest and being squeezed in a vise? Is it fear or something else entirely?
I search Raffaele’s face for clues, but his expression reveals nothing beyond that same intense focus he always has when looking at me. As if he can see straight through to parts of myself I didn’t know existed.
“And now,” the priest says, pulling my attention back, “Raffaele would like to share his vows.”
My eyes widen in surprise. Vows? We never discussed this. I’d assumed our ceremony would be perfunctory. An exchange of rings and signatures, and nothing more. The cathedral falls absolutely silent. Even Onyx seems to hold his breath in Piper’s arms.
Raffaele clears his throat and squeezes my hands tighter. “Alina,” he begins, his deep voice filling the space between us. “I collected you because of a debt. Our story began with business, with obligation.” He pauses, his eyes never leaving mine. “But that’s not why we’re standing here today.”
