Matteo finally crossed the room slower than the others. But when he wrapped his arms around me, he held on so tightly my vision blurred all over again.
“You shouldn’t marry him,” he muttered roughly. Fear slid through me.
“What happened at home?” I asked softly.
His jaw tightened. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Which meant everything. I looked between all three of them desperately, trying to memorize every face at once. Sienna’s braids. Aurora’s sharp eyeliner. Matteo’s tired eyes. The bridal suite felt warmer somehow. Alive again.
Sergio leaned quietly against the doorway watching us for several long seconds before clearing his throat awkwardly.
“I’m gonna…” He motioned vaguely toward the hall. “Stand guard somewhere less emotionally devastating.”
A watery laugh escaped me.
“Thank you,” I whispered. Sergio gave me a small nod before disappearing outside, shutting the doors behind him. And we were alone.
The four of us collapsed together onto the massive velvet couch near the windows, talking over each other. Sienna climbed directly into my lap despite the wedding dress while Aurora grilled me viciously about Leo.
“Has he touched you?” she demanded.
“Aurora!”
“What?” she hissed. “I need to know if I should stab The Serpent.”
Matteo muttered darkly, “I’ll help.”
Despite everything, I laughed so hard tears rolled down my cheeks again. God. I missed them. For one beautiful hour, I almost forgot I was here to become Leo Moretti’s wife.
Thebridalsuitesmelledfaintly of roses and hairspray by the time I finally disappeared to change shoes and touch up my makeup. When I stepped back into the main room again, silence hit me. My smile faded.
“Aurora?” Nothing. The suite was empty. Confusion flickered through me as I moved farther inside, satin skirts whispering across marble floors. “Matteo?”
No answer. A cold feeling slid slowly down my spine.
“Well, well,” a dark, masculine voice spoke up. I turned sharply.
A man lounged lazily near the doorway connecting to the hallway bar, crystal whiskey glass dangling from tattooed fingers. Young. Dangerously handsome. Dark hair brushed carelessly away from sharp cheekbones while an expensive black suit stretched across broad shoulders. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-six. A gold watch gleamed at his wrist. Onecorner of his mouth curved upward slowly when he saw me staring. But something about him felt… wrong.
Like a knife pretending it didn’t cut deep when needed.
“You must be Chiara,” he drawled.
My pulse quickened slightly. “Who are you?”
The man pushed away from the doorway casually. “Angelo Moretti. Leo’s favorite cousin. Unfortunately.”
Something unpleasant twisted low in my stomach. Because he looked at me exactly the way rich cruel men always did. Like entertainment.
“Where’s my family?” I asked.
“Relax.” Angelo took a sip of whiskey lazily. “They went downstairs. Little reunion was over.”
I exhaled shakily. But the unease stayed. Angelo’s gaze slid slowly over my body, appreciation darkening his expression.
“Christ,” he muttered. “Now I understand why he lost his mind.”
My throat tightened. “What do you want?”
