Page 15

He tuned out most of the remaining words.He was too busy staring into her eyes, trying to puzzle out the storm raging behind them.Somehow, in just a few hours, his motivation had shifted.This wasn’t only about finding the rat in his organization.This was abouther.Protecting her.Keeping her.

The feelings were absurdly strong, far larger than his understanding of her.But undeniable.

When the justice of the peace finally pronounced them husband and wife, Sal leaned down, brushing her lips with a kiss so brief it was more promise than possession.

When he pulled back, he nearly laughed at the look in her eyes—confusion warring with relief, irritation battling against something softer.

She clearly couldn’t decide if she wanted to thank him…or slap him.

Before Catarina had a chance to untangle the knot of emotions inside her, a hotel servant slipped in with a tray of champagne.

Sal hid a grimace.He hated the stuff.Flat, fizzy sugar water.But appearances mattered, and champagne was expected at a wedding—even one like this.His men understood the farce, but they raised their glasses anyway, playing along for the sake of the servant who would no doubt be gossiping before the tray was empty.

Let the gossip spread.Let it run like wildfire down the Las Vegas Strip.His enemies would assume this was an alliance with Enrico Bianchi, but when the truth got out—that the old bastard hadn’t even been present—that little rumor would turn into a declaration of war.

He handed Catarina a glass, his fingers brushing hers deliberately.She pretended to sip, her lashes lowering as she tilted the crystal flute.Not a drop touched her lips.

Sal chuckled and slid his palm against the small of her back, raising his own glass and taking a large swallow to sell the charade.Damn, this swill was worse than he remembered.

“Congratulations!”Tony called, his voice booming across the room.The guards, soldiers, and associates lifted their glasses in unison, downing the bubbly with military precision.

Leaning close, Sal whispered against Catarina’s ear, “Not interested in the hair of the dog today?”

She blinked at him, lips parting in surprise.“Excuse me?”

He tipped his chin toward her untouched glass.“Too hungover to drink again?”

Her flush rose fast, staining her cheeks prettily.She lifted the glass and brought it back to her lips in silent defiance, but he saw right through it.Not a single drop slipped past those rosy lips.

His smile faded.He shifted, broad shoulders blocking her from the room, his gaze locking onto hers with hard intensity.“Catarina,” he said, his tone low, commanding.“You don’t have to drink champagne if you don’t want it.But don’t lie to me.”

Her lips parted, then snapped shut, her face paling.

He’d pushed too hard.

Softening, he bent and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.“You’re my wife now,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something softer, but still unyielding.Then his mouth curved faintly.“That makes you powerful.Did you know that?”

Her expression shifted instantly—lips softening, eyes narrowing.“Powerful…how?”

That hint of eagerness, the flicker of hope in her eyes, nearly pulled a laugh out of him.“I guess you’ll have to find out,” he murmured, leaning close enough that his breath stirred the loose curls around her ear.“Just don’t lie to me.Understand?”

Those lush lips pressed into a thin line.She nodded sharply—acknowledgement, not surrender.

Good enough.For now.

Trust didn’t happen overnight.But eventually, she’d see.He ruled not through fear, but through loyalty.And loyalty was earned.

He hadn’t intended to marry.Ever.Marriage was a trap.A man tied himself to a woman, and suddenly every decision, every weakness, every enemy had leverage.It made him vulnerable.

But then again, so did a rat in the organization.

And marriage?Marriage was one hell of a clever trap for a traitor.

His gaze drifted back to Catarina, to the delicate way she held the glass she didn’t want, to the stubborn defiance simmering under her fear.

And just as he started to think of this marriage as a weapon, another thought struck him like a lightning bolt.

Kids.