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)
The satisfied expression on Matteo’s teenage face had nothing to do with the fact that he came home with a successful kill. No, the thing that had brought him true satisfaction was that the size of his animal was bigger compared to mine.
I never quite understood his obsession to be better than me. But my mother had been Father’s great love, and I think Matteo always believed that made me the favored son—and perhaps, in some ways, he wasn’t wrong. Father was harder on him, but Matteo was the heir, after all.
And at the end of the day, he had everything that actually mattered.
Yet it was never fucking enough for him.
He had to take what was mine.
My father sighed, rubbing his temple. “Serafina is innocent in all of this. Don’t make her pay for mistakes that aren’t hers. This alliance is too important to be jeopardized by your personal vendetta.”
I scoffed, turning away from him to check my reflection in a nearby window. The man staring back at me was calm, controlled—nothing like the hideous monster that had consumed me for years.
“Serafina agreed to this marriage,” I said, meeting my father’s eyes in the reflection. “She’s not a damsel in distress.”
She was vulnerable… but fierce. There was a fire in her that I found myself enjoying lately. I liked riling her up, just to watch the way her eyes sharpened, her lips twisted.
Enzo’s jaw tightened. “Once she is your wife, she is yours to protect for the rest of your life. That is your duty, your responsibility.”
Something dark and bitter rose in my throat. I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. “Oh, like you protected my mother?” The mockery in my voice was sharp enough to cut glass.
My father’s eyes narrowed, the calm facade cracking. “What did you just say?”
I turned to face him fully, all pretense dropped. “I know your truth, Father.” I stepped closer, my voice a venomous whisper. “I always did. I always have. Your ugly truth. You didn’t protect any of your wives. You used them.” I gestured toward the front pew where Beatrice sat, her face carefully composed. “You’ve always had one flaw. And now Matteo and I are paying the price of your mistakes.”
His face paled. For a moment, I saw something flicker in his eyes—pain, perhaps, or regret. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the cold, calculating stare of the Don. His hands trembled slightly before he fisted them at his sides. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
But before he could say more, a shadow fell across us. Damon Morelli approached us, his expression guarded. He looked between my father and me, sensing the tension but choosing to ignore it.
“Adrian,” he said, his voice low. “I need to speak with you.”
My father stepped back. “Of course. I was just having some last words with my son before his wedding. I’ll see you at the altar,” he said carefully before walking away.
Damon’s eyes, so similar to Serafina’s, bore into mine. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you last night but I should have known. I saw the way you looked at Serafina and I noticed just how enraptured she had been with you. But I chose to ignore it and that was my mistake. I failed to protect my sister.”
“She isn’t yours to protect anymore.”
Damon nodded. “Yes,” he agreed begrudgingly. “And that’s why I’m here. She’s scared... and nervous. I hope you’ll fulfill your duty kindly.”
Kindness. The word landed like a joke with no punchline.
Kindness wasn’t in my blood. It wasn’t what had kept me alive. Kindness was a weakness in our world.
I have watched kind men get buried and stood over them in the rain, watching their wives weep over their bodies, their children not yet old enough to understand what happened.
But I nodded anyway, the gesture empty of meaning.
Damon studied me for a moment longer before nodding curtly and walking away.
The organ music began to play, signaling that it was time. I took my place at the altar, aware of the whispers that rippled through the congregation as they realized it was me, not Matteo, standing there.
My brother sat in the front row, his face a mask of cold fury. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I saw the promise of vengeance in his gaze. It didn’t matter. By the time he could act, it would be too late.
Now all that mattered was the woman who was about to walk down the aisle to me.
The church doors opened, and there she was.
My bride.
Serafina stood framed in the doorway, her white dress cascading around her like a waterfall.
Thud.
My heart ricocheted once, a single moment that I didn’t quite understand, as my breath caught in my throat before I exhaled.
I watched her walk toward me, her face partially hidden by a delicate veil and the wedding gown hugging her curves perfectly. She was… ethereal, dressed in all-white, looking like an angel—my angelic bride.