I won’t let them.
For the briefest moment, I tear my eyes away from my bride, but only to make sure my people are in place, protecting the venue. Protecting my soon-to-be wife. I have two dozen inconspicuous but heavily armed men stationed all around the cathedral. They can descend on the altar, or anywhere else trouble may brew, within seconds. Fifteen more are on guard outside. It’s likely overkill, but I’m not taking any chances. Notafter another riddle-filled verse popped up on my phone this morning.
9:14 Unknown:
Happy faces, celebration bells
They sing and ring with joy while the silence quells
But smiles will fade, and no one will see
The end is nigh. A tragedy.
All my attempts to locate the motherfucker have failed. Again. As Barty supposed, it must be someone I know. But who? Who is this asshole?
My men on Iris’s security team have not encountered any issues while protecting her or even noticed anything suspicious. Doesn’t mean this calm before the storm will last. Is the bastard here now? Could he be someone fromla Famiglia? Fuck if I know. But, there is one thing of which I’m certain. This piece of shit could be the Almighty himself, but if he tries to harm even a single hair on my Little Iris’s head, I’ll end the cowardly fuck. And it will not be painless.
The final notes of the wedding march die as Iris reaches me at the altar. A veil of soft Italian tulle covers her face, but it can’t hide her pale complexion. Skin that was flushed from that devastating kiss last night. The kiss that never should have happened. Except I fell under her spell yet again.
The bishop launches into his long, mumbled nonsense—in Italian, of course—unconcerned that half of the assembled likely either don’t remember or never bothered to learn their ancestral language. I pay him no heed, utterly disinterested in his words. Faith isn’t something I count on. God and I have stayed out of each other’s way for quite a while. Instead, I feast on the vision before me. The woman in white standing by my side. All while Ireminisce about the feel of her in my arms, the taste of her lips, her breathless little mewls.
I tried to banish those thoughts from my mind, but it was pointless. Just as futile as trying to forget that irritating sensation in my chest. The one that has my heart pumping twice as fast from simply having my lips on hers.
I refuse to name it.
It’s dangerous, this feeling that’s squeezing my lungs. That’s pulling me under like a crushing wave. It seems to swell inside me whenever she is near. It may have started as an annoying drip, but it has morphed into an unstoppable tsunami.
Drowning me completely.
In that instant, every significant aspect of my life—the wealth, the power, my carefully crafted reputation and hard-earned respect—dissolved. None of that mattered. The things I worked for decades to achieve were suddenly rendered worthless. There was only one crucial element left.Her.
And that is completely unacceptable. No one can have that kind of power over me.
As of today, this madness will be over. There will be no need for stalkerish escapades or clandestine, duplicitous meetings. No urgency to orchestrate calamities or benevolent acts in order to maneuver my sweet dose of pain reliever into my orbit. Life will return to normal in Adriano Ruffo’s universe.
The bishop’s voice rises as he starts to read out the vows. I seek my bride’s gaze while preparing to give my answer, but her eyes are downcast, glued to the cathedral marble tiles.
“Sì, lo voglio.”
Only when it’s her turn does she finally look at me, her scared amber eyes locking on mine. Instantly, that treacherous warmth unfurls in my chest.
“Sì, lo voglio.” Her voice is barely audible when she agrees to be my lawful and cherished wife until we are parted by death.
I reach into my pocket, producing two wedding bands. According to Cosa Nostra snobs, it’s borderline blasphemous not to have the best men hand them over, but I don’t fucking care. The thought of another man in close proximity while I’m claiming Iris as mine stirred up a murderous rage within me. I figured it would be best if I avoided bloodshed at the altar, so I decided to forgo the tradition. Who the hell would I choose as my best man anyway?
Iris’s pixie face loses more color as I slip the thick platinum band onto her finger. The sight of it on her delicate hand ramps up that damn unwelcome feeling. It’s on the brink of bursting free, but I shove it deep, deep down. Locking it away.
With a trembling hand, she picks up the ring meant for me. It takes her a few tries before she successfully slides the matching band onto my finger.
“Vi dichiaro uniti in matrimonio.” The bishop pronounces us husband and wife. “You may kiss your bride.”
Iris’s frantic eyes flare wildly as I slip my hand to the small of her back. She looks like a terrified, lost lamb, quaking at the mere thought of kissing me. The exact opposite of her appearance and behavior last night. But of course, she had no idea it was me. And she’ll never find out, either. Yesterday’s kiss will be like the kiss we shared at the nightclub. Rendered inconsequential. Forgotten. I need to make sure nothing like that can ever happen again.
She means nothing to me.
I pull her toward me and, lifting her veil, lower my head to graze her lips. Just as an explosion rattles the rafters.
Screams erupt from every side, as well as roaring shouts to take cover. I suck in a breath and end up breaking out in a coughing fit. What the heck just happened? One second, I was about to be kissed by my new husband, the next, an epic boom shook the cathedral. And now, I’m wrapped in someone’s arms and being rushed away at breakneck speed.
