Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
As she walked toward me, her gaze remained fixed on the floor, her cheeks stained pink as she spoke quietly with her brother. I wanted her to look at me, to give me her full attention. And when she did, when those sea-foam green eyes met mine, it felt like my world stopped spinning.
No, it didn’t; its center just shifted.
17
EMILIA
They say a woman’s wedding is the best day of her life. Or maybe that was just my mother’s propaganda.
I’d had two weeks to come to terms with this, and yet my legs still shook with each step I took down the aisle. I clung to Renzo, my gaze trained on the red rose petals that littered the marble floor like spots of blood. The bloody path that led to Giovanni Guerra.
I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing, and that doubt made each footstep heavy. When I spoke those vows to Gio, when I let him put that ring on my finger, I would lose all leverage. My only hope was that maybe, just maybe, he felt enough for me to save Luca’s life should this all go wrong.
I could feel Gio’s gaze on me as I drew ever nearer to him, but I couldn’t look. Couldn’t face my fate just yet.
Renzo pulled me into his side, calloused fingers sliding over mine in the crook of his arm. Warm, comforting, supportive. “Are you okay?” he whispered.
I nodded, focusing on my feet. One foot in front of the other. Breathe in, breathe out.
“Say the word, Emi, and we’ll leave. We’ll run out of this courthouse and grab a cab before they can catch us. I’ll totally do it.”
“I know you would, Ren.” And I loved him for it. “I’m just nervous.” No, I was terrified. This right here was the very thing I had always feared, and Renzo knew it.
I sucked in a deep breath before I forced myself to lift my gaze. A small cluster of guests stood on one side of the aisle. Una, Jackson, and Tommy, all in the front row. Adamo and Annaliese were also there, along with a few men I didn’t recognize.
And on the other side of the aisle was a figure with his back to me, the only person in this room not looking at the bride.
I instantly recognized the enormous frame that dwarfed the man beside him. Dark hair was neatly buzzed as always, the stuffy suit he never took off clinging to broad shoulders—Luca.
I’d never been so happy to see the boring bastard. He was here, at my wedding, which meant he must have agreed to the alliance. My heart skittered with a newfound sense of hope, and I smiled as I glanced at the end of the aisle.
The moment my gaze landed on Gio, everything else fell away. He wore a tux, his dark hair combed back, revealing the sharp angles of his face. But his beauty was not what stole my breath. It was the way he looked at me.
Awe, adoration, desire.
Love.
Giovanni Guerra looked at me the way every woman dreams of on their wedding day. He looked at me like he had waited a thousand years for this moment. None of this was real, but it felt like the most real thing in the world right then.
Renzo released me when we reached the altar, and Gio took my hand, warm fingers sliding over mine. When he met my gaze, the smile that cut across his lips was blinding.
For a single moment, we were just two people who could love each other. I was just a girl standing in front of a boy in a white dress. For a moment, it was all so simple.
As the priest spoke the vows and Gio repeated them, I wished he wouldn’t look at me so intently as he promised to love me, to cherish me, to spend the rest of his life with me. It felt too real, the words settling into my soul like a lead weight. And yet, as I spoke them back to him, I wanted them to mean something. I wanted us to mean something more than just family names and mafia bullshit.
He slipped the simple gold band onto my finger, and it felt binding. When I slid the ring onto his finger, I liked seeing it there, liked knowing that he belonged to me as surely as I knew I belonged to him.
“You may kiss the bride,” the old priest mumbled.
Gio gripped my face in both hands and pressed his lips to mine. He kissed me like he was making the greatest vow of all. Like he was laying his life at my feet and begging me to take it.
He was my enemy. My lover. My husband. The lines of love and lust and hate had never been so blurred.