Chapter 10
The journey to healing gets dark far before it gets beautiful. - alamir
Santino
A breath leaves me as I stand at the makeshift altar, waiting for my fidanzata to join me. “I should check on her,” I mutter to mio fratello for the third time. We’re being stared at by everyone waiting for the ceremony to officially begin, and it’s damn uncomfortable. Our guest list is small in comparison to the many weddings I’ve attended, but it’s still enough people to make me twitchy under their prying eyes. We’re private people, and anytime one of us exchanges vows or has a lavish party, it makes me uneasy. Besides, our wedding was planned at the drop of a hat, with no advance notice to give anyone for safety reasons, so where in the hell did all these people come from? Matteo says we need to have witnesses so the news will spread like wildfire through the many underground connections and reach our enemies, but the customary image and announcement we put out should suffice, I’d think.
In the end, it’s all about a show of force. A union that brings the Empire one step higher, and in doing so makes our famiglia a bit more untouchable to all of our enemies. Matteo has already made it known to us that he plans on arranging his daughter’s future marriage to the Russians, but bringing Mischa and Rorik in now will only make our ties to the various Russian crime organizations that much stronger in the coming years. Not only that, but our businesses will become stronger, and in doing so, make us even richer.
Dante shakes his head, “No. Luciano handled it, and they’re all fine. I went outside and saw for myself, just like I told you I would. The guy’s not breathing; hell, he probably lost half his blood supply with the deep gashes our fratello made. Mischa and Rorik are both okay, and they will all be here soon.”
“It doesn’t feel right, letting them get attacked and not at least checking in.”
He shoots me a glare, but it’s his typical moody assholeness from him so I’m unfazed. While other people may quake in their boots over his bulky, broody presence, I grew up with it, so I’m more than used to him. “Still can’t believe both of you are getting married on the same day. Should’ve made Matty spring for two weddings,” he grumbles, and it makes me chuckle.
“Nah, so long as he gives us two honeymoons, I’ll be good.”
He snorts, “Yeah, fucking right. This is Matteo we’re talking about. Where would you even go? Milan for Luc? No fuckin’ way our Capo is letting you go that far with shit blowing up all around us.”
The priest clears his throat, and I immediately meet his gaze. “Excuse our language, Father.”
“We’re not in the Lord’s Temple, my sons, no need to apologize.” Of course he’d say that; he knows exactly who my famiglia is. I still have enough respect to feel embarrassed when a man of the cloth hears us speak like a bunch of classless heathens. This man, in particular, has been around long enough, I can remember him baptizing Cristiano.
Luciano finally arrives and strolls up the aisle as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. I know my brother, better than anyone, and he’d most likely be clutching his chest, not able to breathe right now if it weren’t for the drama distracting him. Killing someone was exactly what he needed to focus on what’s important today. Uniting our families. Nothing in the world is more important to a Vendetti than famiglia. Luciano takes his place beside me, as his back will be to mine as we exchange our vows.
The piano echoes throughout the ballroom, immediately drawing attention, and everyone in attendance shuts their mouths as we turn our collective stares to the doorway. I can’t help but glance at everything but the actual doorway. I’m not nervous to marry the beautiful woman; I’m just razzed from the danger they were all in, and I wasn’t there to kill the pezzo di merda.
Exhaling, I release a pent-up breath and take in the ballroom’s transformation. There are flowers everywhere in mint and white, along with dark greenery to complement, and then there are nearly see-through materials reminding me of gauze, hanging in various places. It looks and feels like a real wedding—fancy, even. I don’t know how Vi pulled it off, but with our other sisters-in-law, it seems they’re capable of just about anything. Not that I’d ever doubt Violet Vendetti’s will in any way. She proved to us many years ago she belongs on the throne next to mio fratello. I love Vi; she’s been a close friend and now a sister, ever since she arrived at the Estate and I saw her fire.
I tug at my cuffs, clearing my throat, and take in the setup against the far walls. One side has several tables dressed in heavy linens with extravagant centerpieces surrounded by flutes for champagne and any other wine our guests may want. There are a few small bars at the back of the room for all other drinks, and on the opposite side, there are table after table of elaborate finger foods surrounding our massive wedding cake. I swear Matteo needs to give our chef a raise. The woman has been with us since she graduated from culinary school in France and has been spoiling us ever since.
Dante kicks the side of my shoe, and my gaze shoots to his. He sends me a glare, silently telling me to pay attention, and flicks his chin to make me look. There’s a long velvet carpet leading to me that I take in first, my gaze climbs higher just as there’s an audible gasp by the guests. I immediately seek her out and am stunned, but also not, as I take in the poofy, princess-style dress made out of a lacy type of camouflage material. I’ve never seen anything like it. I thought she was wearing mint, and it was the whole point of all the ‘accent’ colors? Did something happen to her other dress? I swear, if she was hurt and Luciano didn’t tell me, I’m going to lose it.
Rorik is on the opposite side of Yuri. The proud papa has his daughter on one arm and his son on the other. They all glide down the aisle seamlessly, as if they’re floating; it’s so perfect.
“Who gives this woman and man away?” The priest interrupts my thoughts, and I stare at her father, attempting to reel myself back in. This is our wedding; I need to be present, not obsessing over details.
“I do,” her father claims proudly and presses a kiss to the top of Mischa’s hand. He turns to her, his hands lightly cupping her cheeks, his eyes growing watery. “So proud of you, my Mischa. You will do great things in your new life.” She smiles, offering him a barely-there nod as a tear escapes and rolls down her cheek.
Yuri then holds her hand out to me, placing it in mine. Before he releases his grip, he becomes more serious than I’ve ever seen him before. He meets my stare head-on, promising, “Hurt her, and Vendetti or not, you will suffer. Understand?”
“Sì,” I practically growl, then lean in. I lowly claim, “I already took care of Zalinsky for your famiglia. Anyone hurts my wife, and I will kill them, you have my word.”
Satisfied, Yuri’s grin is back in place in the next blink as he releases Mischa and steps away. He repeats the same process with Rorik, squeezing his shoulder affectionately as he tells his son how proud he is of him, and that he loves him. He shakes Luciano’s hand before shifting Rorik’s palm to my brother’s, and finally sits in his spot.
I help guide mia fidanzata to her spot, momentarily pulling her close. Hurriedly, I whisper, “Poco zucchero, tell me you weren’t harmed?”
“I’m okay, Santino.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise. Luciano was there, he took care of things.” At her admission, the muscles locked up in my back finally unwind enough so I no longer feel as if I’m going to snap in two at the drop of a hat.
“Shall we continue?” The priest asks.
“Of course,” I mutter, not willing to look away from my bride even for a moment. He goes through the usual spiel, and I manage to answer at the right times, but I don’t remember a word he says. I’m in a fog until Dante hands me our rings, and I can’t help but think that I should’ve gone the same route as him and gotten her a colored stone. I’ll have to get her one for a push present when she becomes pregnant. I slide the first on her finger, a petite platinum band with a line of diamonds, then follow it up with the large, sparkling diamond solitaire in the shape of a pear. It has the tracker firmly in place, so I’ll always be able to find her.
I hand her my band, and she slides it on my finger. It feels foreign, and I know right then I won’t wear it. Maybe for special events, otherwise it’ll be left in my safe. My job is far too ‘hands-on’ to be weighed down by a wedding ring anyhow. All that matters is Mischa is wearing hers.
We pause and watch as Dante gives Luc their rings next. He and Rorik repeat the process, exchanging rings. Unlike me, I know mio fratello will wear his. He likes shiny things, especially when they match his fancy suits.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride,” the priest claims, and I tug the woman in front of me close enough our noses touch.
“You’re mine now, poco zucchero. You know that, right? Until death,” I question. At her nod, my lips land on hers. I take her mouth in a searing kiss, laying so much passion into it, silently promising to care for her always, that she will be able to depend on me for the rest of her life. Cheering and clapping draw me from our intimate moment. Pulling away, I turn to the guests and lift our hands.
Luciano and Rorik do the same beside us, then I’m tugging my wife back down the aisle. Guests stand and continue to clap and cheer for the four of us as we make our way toward the main door. We all wanted to be involved in each other’s weddings since we’re close, and this was the only way we could come up with since the ceremonies were going to be one right after the other if they were separate. We chose Dante to stand with us since I’m closest to him after Luc. Mischa wanted to have a friend from Russia come, but she wasn’t able to get a flight out in time with a massive snowstorm hitting.
We make it into the hallway, and I immediately start tugging at my collar.
“Leave it; you’ll stretch it out,” Luc grumbles, and my brow hikes.
“You ordered it a size too small; I know it. You enjoy your clothes tight, but I need to breathe.”
He rolls his eyes, then tugs Rorik closer to press a chaste kiss on his lips. “We did it, managed to all get married. Now we just have to stay alive.”
“Because the photographer has it out for us?” I ask, making Mischa giggle. She’s so fucking cute. I can’t wait to eat her pussy later until she’s squirting all over the place and screaming my name.
“After today, I wouldn’t be surprised,” Rorik mutters, sobering my thoughts up in a blink.
“I will bury them. You have nothing to worry about, Rorik,” I soothe. He shouldn’t have to be concerned about this on his wedding day, and the notion makes me burn inside with anger.
He nods, his cheeks tinting, before flashing his gaze back to Luciano. We’re soon joined by the guests greeting us and wishing us well. Members of our staff carry trays of wine, weaving their way around everyone to offer beverages, while the other half of the staff quickly switches the ballroom around. We visit for about thirty minutes before we’re ushered back inside. In place of the chairs and aisle, half of the room has big, round tables set for dinner, and the other half has been cleared away for dancing. I don’t plan to stay down here for too long, but I’m sure mio fratelli and their wives will want to drink and dance through the night to celebrate.
I want to fuck.