Not anyone else.
His mother.
Mac smirked up at Melina from his spot kneeling at her feet. “I don’t know, doll, this dress is pretty damn tight. It’s going to be—”
“I swear to God, if you flash my lingerie to these people, Mac …”
His grin only deepened. “You’ll what?”
Melina pressed her lips together in a shitty attempt to hide her laughter. “You are terrible—wicked terrible.”
“Yes, but you married me, sweetheart.”
“Damn lucky I did. Nobody else would put up with your arrogant ass.”
Mac smiled wide. “But you get to.”
Melina didn’t even bother denying it that time. “Hurry up.”
“Yes, hurry!” someone shouted from the crowd.
Mac flashed his teeth at his wife, his hands flipping up the bottom of her skirt just enough to show off a bit of her smooth, dark caramel legs. His wife shot him a warning look, her brow cocked high.
He just chuckled as his hands traveled up her calves, under layers of lace and tulle. With one last wink at Melina, Mac dipped his head down, and flipped the skirt of her dress over his shoulders. Her giggles rocked them both, and the chair she was sitting on.
This one tradition had been something Melina hadn’t wanted to do at first. She didn’t mind throwing the bouquet for all the single ladies, but she had not wanted Mac to go searching for her garter in front of a large crowd, only to emerge from between her thighs with it stuck between his teeth.
But … tradition was tradition.
And fucking right, Mac wanted to do this one.
Melina conceded.
He tickled Melina’s thighs with the tips of his fingers, and kissed the insides of her knees, letting his tongue slide along her sweet tasting flesh. No one had to know what he was doing, after all. It wasn’t like they could see him.
Still, Melina knew.
She could feel it.
Mac figured that was all that mattered.
Her giggles increased the higher he moved, until he found that stretchy scrap of lace and satin around her mid-thigh. He nipped onto the fabric and tugged, letting it snap against her thigh before biting onto it again.
Even being under her heavy skirt, and the sounds of the people being muffled, he could still hear the raucous laughter and cheers.
“Oh, my God,” Melina said through bouts of laughter.
Mac pulled the garter down and emerged from his wife’s skirts with a wink and the item between his teeth. Tugging it from his mouth, he put one end of the garter around his index finger, and pulled the other end hard before letting it fling into a group of waiting men.
Never once had he taken his eyes off his wife.
He never even saw who caught it before he was leaning down to press a kiss to Melina’s smiling lips.
“Did you have to make such a show of it?”
“Goddamn right,” Mac replied.
“Terrible,” she repeated.
“You picked me.”
Giving his wife another lingering kiss, Mac then helped Melina up from the chair. But while he should have been focusing on her for the moment, his attention was on something else.
Or rather, someone else.
In the far corner of the ballroom, he watched a confusing scene unfold. No one else seemed to take notice of Luca Pivetti and his two closest men standing nearly toe to toe with one another.
Matthew, Enzo, and Luca all looked ready to throw a fist or two.
Mac was shocked—the men were, for all purposes, best friends.
He had rarely seen them publically disagree.
Luca waved a hand, like he was shooing away dirt.
Enzo’s posture softened.
Matthew, on the other hand, nodded, his face a mask of bitterness. Then, just as fast, he was walking away. Enzo moved toward Luca, but the boss lifted his hand again, keeping his other man away.
And just like that … it was over.
No one had seen a thing.
But Mac had.
What was happening?
The night was finally over and Mac couldn’t be more grateful for that fact. No one had thought to tell him that weddings were fucking exhausting. A person never stopped moving, or eating … or something.
Add in the fact it was a famiglia wedding and the night had just seemed to go on and on with no real end in sight.
Just when Mac thought he would be able to pull himself or his wife away from the crowd for long enough to announce they were going to depart for the airport, someone else would approach them, smiles on their faces, congratulations on their tongues, and gifts in their hands.
That gifts were almost always money.
Envelopes of money, actually.
Bobby had been good enough to keep hold of the gifts for Mac.
Luca had even jokingly said it would be the only money Mac made in his life that he wouldn’t owe tribute on.
It was a lot of money.
Too much money, maybe, but that was a mafia wedding. Their whole wedding had been the perfect example of what wealth could and would do for a person. No matter how many times Melina and Mac asked for the planning not to go overboard, it still somehow managed to do just that.