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.
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.
Walking right into her demise.
How fucking poetic.
She moved with measured steps, her father at her side, but her eyes were fixed on me. Even through the veil, I could see the confusion, the fear, the uncertainty.
But also something else—a reluctant acceptance.
That was exactly what I had needed. Her acceptance for this marriage. She had been too frightened this morning, too confused, and I had seen the protectiveness in Damon’s eyes. He would have taken his sister away if she had asked for it.
But I had needed her to walk down this aisle willingly.
So I spoke little white lies.
As she drew closer, I couldn’t help but wonder again what had happened last night.
My plan had been something else entirely, but Serafina had surprised me. Shocked me really when she had shown up at my door, in the state that she was.
The way she had come to me, desperate and needy, her body responding to mine as if she’d been made for me… it wasn’t completely natural.
She had been out of her mind with lust.
Lust that couldn’t be possible without the help of something.
But how would she get her hands on something that dangerous? And why… why would she take it the night before her wedding?
None of it made sense.
I shouldn’t have touched her. But I was a greedy bastard, and I didn’t fucking care what had brought her to me. She had always been meant to be mine and I only took what she was willing to give me.
And now she was going to be mine forever.
My sweet bride.
My perfect pawn.
Her father placed her hand in mine, and I felt her tremble. I tightened my grip, tugging her to me so she would take her place at my side.
The priest began the ceremony, his words washing over me as I stared at Serafina. She was beautiful in her vulnerability, her eyes were red-rimmed, haunted and yet she tried to hide her uncertainties behind a mask of composure.
“Adrian Salvatore,” the priest said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Do you take Serafina Morelli to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
I looked into her eyes, seeing the reflection of my own darkness there. “I do.”
Little did she know…
Our story was forged from shattered bones and built on splintered spines; our pages soaked in blood and stained with death, cursed from the first sentence by a fate neither of us would ever outrun.