Men in suits and sunglasses are tucked into every corner. Security is high, but we’re in the mafia. Security will always be high.
Maria waits at the foot of the aisle with Lupo, who looks disgruntled at the flowers she’s looped around his collar. I laugh softly and give him a soft pat as I pass him.
The small chapel hums with conversation. Giovanni stands in front of the room, anxious energy vibrating around him. Maria wasn’t exaggerating. He looks ready to tear into somebody.
He grows still, and I know he’s spotted me. The entire crowd quiets.
Giovanni has a natural command of the room. The son of a foot soldier, he was never expected to lead. But he assumes his position with a grace and control that are enviable—and an innate respect for humanity that my father never had. He still hasn’t found his mother, but I know he’ll never stop searching, never stop until she’s found or, at the very least, laid to rest.
The touching refrain of the wedding march fills the air, and I walk down the aisle. Flower petals catch at my dress. Friends and family watch me, some stoic, some with tears in their eyes. Everyone here wishes the best for me, and it feels a little bit like floating.
Giovanni’s jaw is clenched hard when I reach him. He takes my hand in a firm grip, and I feel the tremors run through him. He looks like a man pushed to the brink. You wouldn’t know we just had wild marathon sex this morning, not four hours ago.
The priest welcomes everyone and begins the ceremony, his droning voice booming through the rafters.
“You came,” Giovanni says low enough that only I can hear.
“Did you think I wouldn’t?” I whisper.
There’s a pause. “Thought you might pay me back.”
I bite my lip, holding in a laugh. “I thought about it.”
His hands tighten, almost reflexively, before loosening. “I would have found you.”
Only he could make a threat sound romantic. “I came, didn’t I? I decided you were worth marrying.”
The corner of his lip quirks up in that reserved way I’ve come to love. “Thanks.”
When I was younger, I longed for freedom as if it were a place. I longed for love as if it were a person. In the end I found both back where I started, with the man who loved me all along. “And plus…this baby will need her father.”
His gaze snaps to mine. “What did you just say?”
“I mean, I don’t know if it’s a girl. It could be a boy.” With the hand not holding my bouquet, I run a palm over my stomach. I haven’t started to show, but I knew I was pregnant before I took the test. “I have this feeling, though.”
Giovanni’s hands shake in mine, and I grasp them firmly. He looks at me, his eyes dark and completely, utterly open. I can see deep into every dream, every hope he hardly dared. I can see the way it shatters him, having everything he ever wanted.
I walked into this church calm and confident. I comforted my sister and smiled at my friends. I could have withstood almost anything except the way this strong man’s eyes glisten with tears.
“No, Gio,” I whisper, my eyes pricked with heat. “Don’t be sad.”
He doesn’t say the obvious answer: I am happy. When you’ve been through what he has, when you’ve experienced that kind of loss, everything is tinged with sadness.
“I can’t…I can’t lose you, bella.” He’s gone completely pale, eyes stark with pain.
He’s faced torture and violence, but the thought of losing me is tearing him apart. And it’s breaking my heart. “You won’t lose me. Or this baby, Gio. We’re here forever. For always.”
The priest’s booming voice cuts in on us. “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
I do. That’s his line, but he’s fighting something deep and dark right now. A lifetime of denial, of grief. That horrible pleasure of having something you know you can’t live without.
There will be more violence in his future, more suffering, because that’s the condition of being human. And of being the head of the Las Vegas mafia operation. But he’ll face that with me by his side, every step of the way. Including here, now.
Without waiting for him to answer, I throw my arms around him. He catches me and holds me to him without hesitation, as if this is where I belong. His lips move over mine, hungry and hard.
“I do,” he murmurs between scorching kisses, between nips and licks that make my knees weak.
The priest sputters beside us, having finally realized that we’ve derailed off course. I pull back long enough to tell him, “I do too.”
Then Giovanni drags me back, one hand at my hip, the other cupping my face, this kiss full of possessive intensity too raw for a church. And definitely too sensual for an audience. I start to pull away, but he holds me closer while Lupo barks circles around us.
My lips curve into a smile beneath his. “We’re making a scene.”
“I’m not letting you go, bella.”
“Not even to take the dress off me?”