by Cora Reilly
I tried to ignore her shaking when I slipped the ring on her finger. “Aria, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
She was mine now.
It was Aria’s turn to put the ring on my finger, but she was trembling too fucking much. I steadied her hand. People didn’t need to see how terrified she was of me. Matteo with his fucking hawk-eyes noticed, of course, and gave me a smirk. I wouldn’t hear the end of it.
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest said.
Aria’s head shot up. She stiffened further and her eyes held trepidation and embarrassment. Fuck. I squeezed her hands. I wasn’t even sure why.
I hated to share this moment with all the fuckers in the room. I’d kissed so many women, fucked just as many, but this first taste of my wife…that wasn’t something I wanted to share. I knew Aria would have preferred more privacy—of course she would, this was her first kiss.
Her first fucking kiss.
I leaned down and brushed my lips over hers. It was nothing. More air than touch. Not worth a second thought, but damn, my body sprang to life anyway. Aria was mine.
A blush spread on her cheeks, and it took every ounce of self-control not to throw her over my shoulder and carry her up to our room right away. I couldn’t wait to have her naked body under me, to bury my cock in her. As if she could read my mind, Aria shuddered violently, and my lust evaporated.
I didn’t want to consider the possibility that she might react the same way to my touch tonight. Fuck.
I took her hand and led her down the aisle. The men of the family gave me nods as they clapped. A waiter headed our way at once, balancing a tray with champagne glasses on his palm. I took one for my and one for Aria, handing it to her.
Aria clutched the glass in her delicate fingers but didn’t react otherwise, not even looking my way. Soon our guests crowded around us to offer us their blessings. It was a necessary tradition we couldn’t avoid, even when all I wanted was to fast-forward to my first night with my wife.
Aria’s gaze was distant, her lips a thin line in her pale face. I dipped my head down to her. “Smile. You’re the happy bride, remember?”
As if a switch had been turned, Aria’s face became a mask of happiness, all fake. I took a sip of the champagne, stifling my frustration over her apparent unhappiness. This marriage hadn’t been my idea. I wouldn’t have married at all. My life was devoted to the Famiglia, and a woman had no place in it.
The first guests appeared before us, my father and Nina. She stood a step behind him as he expected.
My father put a hand on my shoulder. He was my height, the only man at the party who was, and his eyes met mine. Gray eyes and dark hair like me. But that was the extent of our similarities, if you disregarded our streak of cruelty. “Luca, my eldest,” he said in a booming voice, drawing the attention of the surrounding guests to us. “Today marks a special day for you and the Famiglia.”
I gave him a tight smile. He leaned closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear him. “I envy you tonight. There’s nothing better than looking into a woman’s eyes when she realizes you can do to her whatever you want, to crush those silly hopes and break their spirit and body. And I must say, your wife has expressive eyes. It’ll be thrilling to see terror in them.”
Something dark and cruel roared in my chest, but it was definitely not directed at the vulnerable woman at my side. I gave my father another smile, not saying anything from fear of revealing my thoughts. Father stepped back, and his gaze settled on Aria as he moved to congratulate her. My entire body erupted with tension as he kissed her hand. Then, Nina appeared before me and leaned up to kiss my cheek, saying in a conspiratorial whisper, “Oh Luca, that girl is petite. Don’t break her your first night together. There will be many more nights for you to savor.”
She had to know. My father enjoyed breaking her almost daily. Nina’s spitefulness made me hate her fiercely, but I knew it was the only armor she had. Finally, my father and his wife excused themselves and allowed other guests to step forward.
As honor dictated, it was Aria’s family. Scuderi looked like he’d won the Nobel prize as he shook my hand then hugged Aria. Her mother Ludevica stepped up to me. She briefly glanced up into my eyes, then lowered her gaze submissively. That was why Aria was like that. For a moment, Ludevica looked as if she wanted to say something, her gaze flickering from Aria to me, her face filling with worry before she managed to mask it. She swallowed hard and surprised me by stepping closer and taking my hands. “Aria is a good girl. She won’t give you any reason to hurt her. She’ll comply with your wishes…” Her voice was barely audible.
“Ludevica, the other guests want their turn,” Scuderi said sharply, and his wife drew back from me at once. With a last pleading glance at me, she stepped up to her husband. It didn’t take a genius to realize what her veiled words had meant. She begged me not to brutalize her daughter tonight because that was what a man like me would do. I didn’t offer her words of assurance. Aria was no longer her responsibility. She was mine. Father stood back like a benevolent patron, but his sharp eyes watched my every move.
He wouldn’t see a sliver of weakness. Not today, not ever.
Dante Cavallaro and his parents were next. It surprised me that Dante was at the front. It was a clear sign that he would soon become the head of the Outfit even when his father was still officially the boss.
His expression was stoic when he kissed Aria’s hand, breaking protocol by greeting her first and not me. I regarded him closely, my eyes narrowing. When he finally stepped up to me, our gazes locked, and the same wariness I felt reflected in his eyes. This marriage was supposed to ensure peace, but neither Dante nor I trusted this fragile truce. “Congratulations on your marriage,” he said emotionlessly.
“Thank you for giving me the Outfit’s most beautiful woman, considering you are in need of a wife as well.” Something feral flashed in Dante’s eyes, but it wasn’t the only emotion my words had summoned. There had been a flicker of sorrow and pain in his expression before the cold mask had returned. Dante missed his dead wife. The realization surprised me. I filed it away for possible later use. My father hadn’t waited long to marry Nina once my mother was dead. Women were replaceable pleasure objects for him.
“My son has peculiar tastes when it comes to his next wife,” Fiore butted in, stepping up beside his son.
I didn’t say anything. Dante’s eyes were already murderous and, while I would have enjoyed killing him and every Outfit fucker in the room, a wedding wasn’t the right place or time. Mrs. Cavallaro waited with a pinched expression beside her husband and son. She barely talked. Maybe Fiore forbade her.
My eyes darted to Aria who stood with her hands folded before her stomach. Her expression reflected polite interest and fake happiness, but I could see the myriad of darker emotions lurking beneath her outward mask. Would she be like her mother, Nina, or Mrs. Cavallaro soon? Would I break her?
She didn’t glance my way, but I was sure she noticed my gaze.
After her cousin Bibiana had talked to Aria, and I to her old fat husband, my wife’s demeanor changed. I couldn’t pinpoint why, but she kept risking peeks at me. I was talking to one of my captains when Aria watched me again, and I finally turned to meet her gaze. In it I saw curiosity and a flicker of hope. The latter was even more deadly than the former in our world.
Then a bright red dress and patent red leather heels caught my attention. My eyes returned to the line of well-wishers, and a curse died on my tongue.
Senator Parker and his family. I barely paid attention to the man whose campaigns we paid or his equally ambitious son who was also on our payroll. Behind them stood the last person I wanted to see at my wedding: Grace.
I was pretty sure she had been sewn into her fucking dress. I shook her father’s and brother’s hands before she stepped up to me. Senator Parker sent her a warning look, which Grace ignored like she always ignored
sensible advice.
“Congrats, Luca,” she said, her eyes practically trying to fuck me. If she didn’t stop it soon, I’d have to throw her out.
“Grace,” I said in a bored voice.
She stepped very close, closer than was proper, and I would have shoved her away if it hadn’t caused a big scene.
“I’m so fucking wet for your cock, Luca. I want to taste your cum in my mouth,” she purred into my ear. “Perhaps you’ll think of me tonight when you fuck your little boring wife. She won’t be half as good as I am.”
I kept my face neutral, even if my blood boiled with fury. I doubted that had been Grace’s fucking intention. Did she really believe I’d think of her when I was with Aria?
Aria was gorgeous. She was honorable. She was my wife.
Grace was nothing.
Of course, Aria wouldn’t blow my mind with her skills. She had never been with anyone, but I’d teach her. Fuck, I couldn’t wait to do it.
Then Grace actually hugged Aria and, when she pulled back, Aria looked as if she was going to be sick. What the fuck had Grace told her? She was a fucking backstabbing creature.
I reached for Aria’s hand and she flinched so violently that I knew Grace must have divulged one of our harder adventures. As if I’d treat Aria as I treated Grace. That whore should have never been invited. My fucking father had probably done it on purpose to mess with me.
When the ordeal was over and we finally moved toward the tables, I almost groaned in relief. I wished I knew what was going on in Aria’s head, but she wasn’t even looking my way, intent on pretending I wasn’t there, even though I held her hand. “You can’t ignore me forever, Aria. We’re married now.”
‘Bacio, Bacio’-cries rose from the crowd when we were about to sit down. Aria was still frozen at my side. Stifling my annoyance, I pulled her against me and kissed her again. I wanted nothing more than to deepen the kiss, to claim that sweet mouth, but I knew she would have hated to experience a more intimate kiss in front of so many people. She was already fucking embarrassed by the kiss we’d just shared, and that was tame.
The moment we sat down, the redheaded troublemaker took her seat beside Aria. I hoped she wouldn’t make a scene. On the other hand, perhaps it would distract from the scene Matteo would undoubtedly make.
My brother took a large sip of wine before he leaned over to me. “All through church, I couldn’t think about anything but to stick my knife into a few Outfit fuckers. A bloody wedding would be so much more interesting than this farce. And I don’t mean our fucking bloody sheets tradition. At least you get to spill some blood tonight.”
Matteo laughed and I fell in but then sobered again. I had been at a few presentations of the sheets over the years. Matteo and I had always made fun of them. My eyes found Aria, who was listening to something her sister whispered in her ear. Aria was my wife now. She was mine to protect. I hated the idea of presenting sheets with her blood in the morning. She’d be fucking embarrassed, that was for sure.
“You got a strange look on your face, Luca. Worried she won’t bleed?”
I narrowed my eyes at Matteo. “I hope you’re not insinuating that Aria isn’t honorable.”
Matteo snorted. “Oh please, it’s obvious she’s never even been close to a man, the way she acts around them, and you.” He grinned. “But perhaps you can’t go through with it.”
I gave him a disbelieving look. “Really? You think anything or anyone could stop me from taking my wife tonight?”
Matteo smirked. “No, not a single man in this room could stop you, and probably not even all of them. But perhaps she will.” He nodded toward Aria, who was holding her sister’s hand, looking pale and small.
“You’ve lost your fucking mind, Matteo. You should know me better than that. I will fuck her.”
Matteo shrugged. “Perhaps.”
Matteo rose from his chair after everyone had settled down and clinked his knife against the champagne glass to silence the crowd. I sent him a warning look, which only made him grin. I’d kill him one day. “Ladies and gentlemen, old and new friends, we’ve come here today to celebrate the wedding of my brother Luca and his stunningly beautiful wife, Aria…” Matteo made an exaggerated bow in her direction.
Aria smiled tensely and Gianna sent her best death glare my brother’s way. As if that would discourage him. “To uncharted grounds. Nothing better than to tread on fresh snow, leaving the first marks.” He winked at me, then Aria, before he turned to the crowd. “I’m sure everyone here agrees! To uncharted grounds!
The men laughed and threw his words back at me, lifting their glasses in my direction.
I shook my head with a smile. Matteo was a fucking nuisance. My smile died when I saw Aria. She’d put her brave face on, but her skin was bright red from embarrassment and her eyes reflected anxiety. Gianna was clutching one of her hands, but the other was curled into a fist on her pure white dress. For some reason, I wanted to reach out and unfurl her fingers, link them with my own. It was a ridiculous notion I would never follow, especially not in a room with my enemies and my soldiers.
I was glad when my father and Scuderi were done with their toasts and the food was finally served. Not only was I starving, but I was tired of their bullshit talk.
The servers began piling the tables with antipasti.
“I wanted to make a toast as your bridesmaid, but Father forbade it. He seemed worried I would say something to embarrass our family,” Gianna said loudly.
I looked her way then rolled my eyes and filled my plate with antipasti. Aria took a big gulp from her wine and lifted the glass for another. I stopped her with my hand on hers.
“You should eat.” Her plate was empty, and she hadn’t touched any of the appetizers during the champagne reception. Her lips thinned, but she picked up a piece of bread and took a bite before she dropped it on her plate. She didn’t eat much more when the main course was served, and I had to hold back my frustration, especially when she drank more wine. Maybe she thought I didn’t notice because my father and the Cavallaros dragged me into a conversation about the Bratva, but I wasn’t blind.
When it was time for our dance, I rose and held out my hand. Of course the crowd requested another kiss the second Aria stood beside me. I pulled her against me, tightening my grip when she swayed. Her gaze wasn’t as focused as it should be. She’d definitely had too much alcohol.
I had to steer her over the dance floor in a tight grip to keep her upright and stop her from stumbling, all the while fighting my anger.
I was glad when the dance was finally over, but before I led Aria back to the table, I whispered in her ear, “Once we’re back at the table, you’ll eat. I don’t want you to pass out during our celebration, much less during our wedding night.”
If she was drunk, I definitely wouldn’t fuck her, and that wasn’t going to happen. Under my watchful eyes, Aria ate her main course and drank two glasses of water. When Father stepped up to Aria to ask her for a dance, I almost snarled at him, but I had to hide my feelings and gave him a tight smile.
As was tradition, I had to dance with Nina while my father danced with my wife. Nina was surprisingly quiet as I led her over the dance floor, but my full attention was directed at my father and Aria, anyway. I could tell she was uncomfortable in his hold—not that she’d been relaxed when we’d danced.
“Jealous?” Nina asked.
“No,” I said coldly.
Matteo strode past the other dancers and tapped Father’s shoulder, asking to dance with Aria. He sent me a quick smile the moment he whirled my wife over the dance floor. Nina finally moved on, and I danced with Ludevica and then Liliana. When I noticed Grace heading in my direction, I quickly excused myself and headed off the dance floor and toward the table. No way in hell would I dance with Grace. Her brother grabbed her arm and forced her into a dance with him, to Grace’s obvious dismay.
“They would have made a good-looking couple,” Matteo said as he stepped up beside me. I fol
lowed his gaze and tensed.
Dante was dancing with Aria.
“’The golden couple’ is what some people nicknamed them in the Outfit. There were even rumors that Fiore considered cancelling your engagement to Aria so his son could have her.”
“That would have meant war. I would personally have walked straight into Chicago, crushed Dante’s throat and taken Aria home with me.”
Matteo chuckled. “That sounds like more fun than this.”
I left him standing there and headed for Dante and my wife. They’d danced long enough. It was time Aria returned to my arms.
Dante noticed me first. “I think your husband is eager to have you back in his arms,” he drawled in that annoying way. He stepped back with a calculating expression, and I quickly took Aria’s hand and led her away before we began dancing.
“What did Cavallaro want?”
Aria hesitated the briefest moment before her reply. “To congratulate me on the festivities.”
That definitely hadn’t been all they’d talked about, but the music stopped at a sign from Matteo and he silenced our guests with loud clapping.
“Time to throw the garter!”
The crowd circled us immediately. I’d witnessed this tradition so often, I knew what was expected. I got down on my knee and cocked my eyebrows expectantly at Aria. I knew her mother had instructed her on our traditions. I wasn’t sure if it was the same in the Outfit.
Aria lifted her gown, revealing white high heels, slender calves, then gorgeous knees. Fuck. I didn’t even know gorgeous knees were a thing.
I cupped Aria’s calves, stifling a groan at the feel of her warm skin. This was the first time I’d touched her legs, for god’s sake. The first time any man touched those legs. I slid my palms up slowly until I reached her thighs. She froze and goose-bumps rose on her skin. I searched her eyes, trying to figure out the emotion behind her reaction, but she had her public happy bride face in place.
In this moment, I wanted nothing more than to be alone with her. The feel of Aria’s thighs made me want to reach higher, to discover the rest of her curves, but my fingers brushed her garter on her right leg. I used one hand to push her dress up further to reveal the garter, even if I didn’t like the idea of all the men in the room seeing her thighs.