Chapter 9
PRIEST
I pace in the sacristy, blowing out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
This is a rarity. First, that I’m in a church at all.
And second, that I’m alone. On any given day, I’m surrounded by people.
My brothers. My men. Zia Maria. Customers at our private clubs.
Every day is a sea of faces, of obligations, of problems.
But this day isn’t quite like all the rest.
Because fuck , this is my wedding day.
It feels heavier than I thought it would, the realization settling into my bones. Not unlike the day my old man died—the knowledge that from this moment forward, life will be forever changed.
A double knock at the closed door tells me Rocco is here.
I turn toward it, huffing out another sigh. “Come in.”
Roc slips inside, his expression taut with tension.
“What is it?” I demand, instantly knowing something is wrong. “Is it Luna?”
I shouldn’t have entrusted her to Saint this morning.
But I didn’t have a lot of options. I couldn’t send her back to her bastard of a father or take the risk of her running if left to her own devices.
I needed to be here, to make sure everything was prepped at the church and running smoothly.
I also needed to avoid seeing the bride before the wedding.
Andrianis are superstitious. There’s enough bad blood between us, the Revellos, the Irish, the Bratva, and the other families. I need all the help I can get.
Rocco shakes his head. “Saint is on his way to the church with her now. That’s not the problem.”
Relief hits me, and I relax my clenched fists.
“Then what is?”
“Amedeo Revello is here,” Rocco says.
I rake a hand through my hair. “Shit. We’ve got ourselves a fucking rat.” I roll my shoulders, thinking about how we play this unwanted development. “Everyone’s being checked for weapons, yeah?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“Who’s with him?”
“His wife and Little Sal.”
Little Sal is Amedeo’s right-hand man and bodyguard.
He’s a huge, sadistic fuck capable of almost anything.
But Little Sal and Amedeo aren’t an army.
Amedeo has a crew who’s loyal to him. If they’re not here, I doubt there’s much he can do.
He’d be taking on the Andriani brothers and half the Revello family.
“Then let him in.”
Rocco works his jaw. “Boss, I don’t like this.”
He isn’t one to question my orders. His concern is serious.
“I don’t like it either, but I need this wedding to happen today. If Amedeo knows I’m marrying Luna, then it’s best if he’s a guest. He’s only got Little Sal for protection, and his men aren’t going to bomb a church with him in it. Besides, if he tries anything with us, it’ll be a suicide mission.”
“He shouldn’t have found out about this yet,” Rocco points out. “We’ve worked quickly. If Amedeo knows, that means he’s got a guy inside, and if he’s got a guy inside, he could have asked the bastard to stash a piece.”
Rocco’s not wrong. But I don’t want to have to think about this.
Two years ago, before shit hit the fan with some of the other families and the Bratva, and we found out Amedeo was working on cutting Tomasso Revello out of the picture, we’d had an opportunity to take Amedeo down.
A clear shot when he was leaving one of our clubs.
But my father called it off at the last second, thinking it was too risky.
“Fuck.” I turn and pace the room again. “We should have done him when we had the chance.”
“That wasn’t your call.”
“I know.”
But it doesn’t make me feel any better acknowledging it. In fact, it makes me feel like shit. Because my father is dead, I’m don, and now I’m dealing with Amedeo Revello on my wedding day.
“We can get him and Little Sal out of here,” Rocco says. “Quietly and without anyone getting harmed. His wife is along, so he’s less likely to try anything stupid and put her in the crossfire.”
“There’s no guarantee of that.” I shake my head. “We can’t afford to have an all-out war on our hands.”
“What do you think is going to happen after you marry the Revello girl and make your move?”
“I know what’s going to happen then, but it will be planned .
” I scrub my hand over my jaw, feeling the prickle of five-o’clock shadow that pretty much appears the minute I shave.
“This is where I’m different from my father.
I’m not going to wait for shit to happen before making a move.
I’m making my fucking move first. Seizing the goddamn kingdom and the princess in the tower, making her my queen. ”
Rocco nods, working his jaw like he wants to say more, before he shakes his head. “I’ll do whatever you want, boss.”
Nothing I’m doing today is what I want to do.
I want to get married like I want to lie in an intersection in the middle of the city and wait for some asshole to run over my head.
And I sure as fuck don’t want Amedeo and Little Sal presiding over the ceremony.
But this isn’t about what I want. It’s about what’s best for the family.
It’s about taking up the reins where my father left off and building something stronger, bigger, and better than he could have ever dreamed.
It’s about seizing what’s ours.
I stop pacing just in front of Rocco and lay my hands on his shoulders.
“Look at me, Roc.” I wait until we’re locked in a death glare before continuing.
“By the time this is through, Amedeo Revello is going to be in hell where he belongs, and the Andrianis are going to be the kingmakers of this city.”
For a few seconds, Rocco doesn’t say anything. He just stares back at me, unflinching.
And then he breaks into a grin.
“I’ll tell the boys to give him an extra frisk or two just to piss him off.”
“Thanks, Roc.”
I watch him go and tug at my bow tie, which suddenly feels like a noose.
We’re going to run this fucking place.
Or we’re going to die trying.
Luna
Our driver pulls up to the city’s most impressive church, a proud and beautiful cathedral that stands in stark contrast to the behemoth of skyscrapers, busy streets, and sidewalks that have proliferated around it.
I shouldn’t be surprised this is where I’m supposed to be marrying a mobster, but somehow I am.
It’s clear that Priest isn’t keeping this whole farce a secret.
The fucking bastard. He’s rubbing this wedding in the whole city’s faces, cops, mobsters, DAs, and all.
“Shit,” I mutter, my stomach tightening into a massive knot of dread.
It’s getting real now. I haven’t been able to think straight, let alone make a run for it, ever since the knock on my door this morning. I’ve had about thirty seconds alone total—just long enough to, as Saint the gentleman put it, cover my tits and ass.
“What’s wrong, sis?” he asks cheekily from the other side of the G-Wagon.
He’s been in a pleasant mood. Which, given he’s armed and dangerous, is probably a good thing for me.
Except that my nerves are shot. And his grin is hateful.
So is his presence. He’s the enemy, just like the rest of his brothers, and every one of them is the reason I don’t have mine here to protect me now.
The reminder sends bitter ice chasing through me, my heart aching at the thought of Leo.
“I’m not your sister,” I snap at Saint.
“Thank fuck. Because it would be weird for you to be marrying my big bro if you were.”
Another reminder I don’t want. With every minute that ticks by, I’m one step closer to getting married. My chances of escaping this life, which seemed so high a mere few days ago, are dwindling faster than toilet paper on a pandemic-era Costco shelf.
“I don’t want to marry him,” I tell Saint. “It’s not too late for you to do the right thing and let me go.”
I implore him with my eyes, thinking of how easy it would be, how seamlessly I could melt into the crowds and never look back. Either way, I’m going to run when I have the chance. With his blessing or without, it doesn’t make a difference to me.
“No.” He shakes his head, the grin fading as he leans toward me. “The right thing is the two of you getting married. The families need to be united under one don. You marry Priest, everyone wins.”
“Except for me.”
That much is true. If my marrying Priest succeeds in bringing the families back together and staving off my greedy cousin Amedeo, the Andrianis become kings of the city. My dad is spared. And the only one who suffers is me.
In an instant, Saint unclicks his belt and slides across the Nappa leather bench seat, his face as dark and angry as a summer thundercloud.
He gets in my face. “Listen to me, Luna Revello. You are going into that fucking church, and you are marrying my brother today. If you try to run, I will shoot you. You understand that, don’t you?”
I swallow hard but hold his stare, unflinching. “If you kill me, how is your asshole brother going to marry me? He may have pulled strings to get the marriage license, but the last time I checked, not even a Mafia don could marry a corpse in this city.”
Saint shrugs, callously cruel. “If you refuse to marry Priest, we’re all as good as dead anyway, so you may as well be too. Don’t think you can escape this. There’s only one way out.”
Death.
I don’t say it, but marrying Priest is the same thing to me. It’s the loss of my freedom, my future, everything I want for myself. It’s surrender.
“Say that you understand how important this is.”
“I understand,” I agree tonelessly.
I do. But not in the way he means.
I bite my lip, staring forward, not looking at Saint’s feral expression.
I look at the driver as a last resort, but he’s calm and as emotionless as a statue. Pretending like he hasn’t heard a thing. Like this is a Saturday night Uber ride and he’s brought us to where we want to get out at the club.
“Look at me when you say it,” Saint demands.
I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to kick him. I want to run.
But instead, I jerk my head toward him. “I understand.”
And then, in an instant, I turn into someone else.