Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
I could only stare at him in stunned silence.
“Guilia and Beatrice will be here soon.” Adrian dropped his hands and rose from the bed. “They probably already know what has happened… You need to get ready for the wedding.”
My wedding…
A marriage to this savage, devastatingly beautiful man who has turned my life upside down in the last six weeks.
But…
He loved me.
He loved me.
He loved me.
I believed it.
I had to believe it.
Because I was walking down the aisle to him today.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Adrian
I adjusted my cufflinks, feeling the weight of the platinum pieces with my fingers. In mere minutes, I would stand at the end of the altar, waiting for Serafina to walk toward me.
The irony wasn’t lost on me—how easily she had fallen into my arms without me having to trap her at all.
The church was filled with the most powerful families in America and especially La Cosa Nostra, all gathered to witness what they believed was a strategic alliance between the Morelli and Salvatore families.
I wondered what story my father had spun to protect our reputation.
I smoothed my hand down my black tuxedo, the fine Italian fabric a stark contrast to the violence that simmered beneath my skin. Today wasn’t just about claiming Serafina… it was about taking everything from my brother. Every last thing.
My heart hammered with dark, primal satisfaction.
The heavy scent of incense and flowers hung in the air, making my head spin. Or perhaps that was the remnants of last night’s whiskey still coursing through my veins.
I hadn’t slept.
How could I, with her in my bed, her scent still clinging to my skin, her taste still on my tongue?
I stayed awake the whole night, watching her sleep so peacefully, her dark hair trailing over my pillows, her naked, flushed body under my blanket.
Serafina was indeed a beautiful woman. But she wasn’t just a pretty face, or a perfect curvaceous body. She was smart. She was feisty.
And last night, I tasted all the feistiness on my tongue, lapping it all up.
“You look pleased with yourself.”
My father’s voice cut through my thoughts. I didn’t turn immediately, allowing myself one more moment to savor the anticipation. When I did face him, I kept my expression carefully neutral, though I couldn’t quite suppress the smirk tugging at my lips.
Fuck yeah, I was pleased with myself.
My father’s expression was unreadable. For a man whose plans had been completely upended this morning, he appeared remarkably composed.
Enzo Salvatore was a king with a decaying crown. But he had, after all, reigned for a long time. He was an actor, a player… and he was an expert at moving pawns, using people for his benefit, killing people for his satisfaction.
“Father.” I nodded, not bothering to hide the indifference in my voice.
“I’m getting married today. I thought you’d be proud that I’ve finally stopped my reckless ways and settled down.”
“By stealing your brother’s bride?”
“How can I steal something that was always mine?” I shrugged, my lips twisting ruefully. “So, what was the story you guys made up?”
“We told the truth. After finding out that you and Serafina had feelings for each other, Matteo decided to step back and allow you two to be happy. He realized that you and Serafina would make a better, more appropriate couple.”
I threw my head back, letting out a humorless laugh. What bullshit. “No one believed that.”
La Cosa Nostra was smarter than that. They would never fall for such blatant lies.
“It doesn’t matter if they believed it or not. No one would dare question us. That’s the story we’re sticking with.”
The Salvatores were powerful. Rich. We were a reputable family in high society. And if anyone wanted to remain in our good favors, they would act like this groom exchange never even happened.
“Ah, yes. Matteo the older, wiser brother.” Always the victim, how original. How fucking comedic.
Enzo’s face hardened. He stepped closer, lowering his voice so that only I could hear. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Adrian. I don’t understand why you’re doing this but I will eventually find out. You and your brother had always been competitive—”
“Wrong,” I tsked, shaking my head.
“What?” he whispered darkly.
“I never competed with Matteo. He always had to prove that he was better than me.”
Even as boys, Matteo could never let me get any praise that was mine alone. He always had to be the better one. If our father praised me for riding a horse, Matteo would spend the rest of the week in the saddle until he could jump fences. Smarter, faster, better— he needed it all.
I was eleven on my first hunt. I came home with a rabbit, my first kill. Pride had filled my father’s eyes that day.
The next morning, Matteo came home with a groundhog. He dropped it at Father’s feet and looked straight at me when Father clapped him on the shoulder.