Chapter 19
Maximo
“Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.” Roman De Luca shakes my hand. Beside him, his wife Sophia, gives me a pleasant enough smile though her gaze holds curiosity with a touch of hostility. Or is my guilty conscience coloring my interpretation of her look. Probably.
The engagement party came together within the week.
Everyone here is important, from Roman De Luca who smuggles goods through the ships he owns, to Dimitri Kozlov, head of the Kozlov Bratva.
Cian O’Rourke, leader of the Gaelic Devils.
And Blake Baron, the anti-social billionaire even made an appearance.
Of course, they’re all also extended family through marriage.
My second cousins, the Pontrelli women, married these powerful men. Soon, I’ll take a Pontrelli as my bride and our ties will be even closer than they are now.
Dimitri thumps me on the shoulder. “Congratulations. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” With a wicked grin at his wife, Arianna, who huffs at him, they drift into the crowd.
My gaze trails after him. I’ve heard stories, rumors. My guilt eases a fraction. I may have pressured, perhaps even forced, Elena into being my fiancée, but at least I didn’t kidnap and drug her before dragging her into a church to be wed. I do have some sense of morals—I think.
If push comes to shove, and I have few other options, I may very well do as Dimitri did.
Maybe. Only if Elena could ever forgive me the way Arianna seems to have forgiven her husband.
Actually they seem quite happy together, and very pregnant.
From what I’ve gathered, she and Ravenna are due the week after our wedding.
My gaze searches the crowded venue for my wife-to-be. I spot her with her twin sister, Ravenna, head to head in conversation.
Though many can’t tell the identical twins apart, I can, in an instant.
Elena has this soft aura about her that Ravenna entirely lacks.
It’s part of what drew me to her in the first place.
That soft, sweet, almost shy presence she carries.
Then one day I discovered the fire she keeps buried deep down and I’ve been addicted ever since. I want more, so much more of her.
My gaze sweeps down her pale pink dress.
Another of my gifts to her. She looks good enough to eat.
My entire body zings with anticipation of our future together.
My lips tingle as I remember our kiss and the taste of her sweet pussy.
The first time I ever kissed her was in a hotel room three thousand miles away.
The first taste of her was on the floor of my garage while one of my cars burned behind us.
Not exactly the romantic fantasy I had in mind for either experience.
Next time will be better. I’ll make sure of it.
I may be forcing her into being my wife, but my goal is the same as it’s always been: To earn her love. I want her trust and devotion. To be the first thought on her mind when she wakes up in the morning and the last one before she falls asleep. Just as she is for me.
But the best things in life can’t be rushed. Luckily, I’m a patient enough man. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that, one day, Elena will fall in love with me. That my feelings for her will be reciprocated. My heart squeezes.
Several other guests give me their well-wishes, but my gaze remains on Elena. I could stare at her all day and never grow tired of the view.
As if she finally senses my attention on her, she glances up, right at me.
Our gazes lock. A beat passes between us where the rest of the world seems to melt away.
Sound dims. Those around us become no more than vague shapes and shadows.
But Elena, she’s like a shining star, a celestial, stealing my very breath away with her brilliance.
Her lips part. Those grey eyes glimmer. For a moment I believe I’m affecting her as much as she does me.
“Mr. Pontrelli.” A hand curls around my forearm, breaking the spell. “Maximo?”
I glance down, finding the wedding planner I’ve hired, Crystal Jensen. She organized this event, and on short notice too. Just like the wedding that’s set to happen in just over a month.
“Miss Jensen, you did an excellent job. If the wedding is on par with this event, we will be very happy.”
She beams up at me. “Your wedding will be much more grand than this, I promise you.”
“That is good. I’m looking forward to the big day.” I glance at Elena, who’s glaring at me, though I’m not sure why. What did I do now? A moment ago she was looking at me like I was the center of her world, now she’s glaring daggers.
Miss Jensen pats my arm, regaining my attention.
“With the last minute timeline I’ve been so busy, I can’t believe I haven’t even met the bride-to-be yet.
Is she here?” She reaches up and adjusts my pocket square.
Surveying me, like I’m a floral arrangement that’s in need of fixing, she picks a piece of lint off my tux jacket.
I sense my fiancée’s presence before I hear the clearing of her throat. She sidles right up to me, so close her floral fragrance teases my nose, and thrusts her hand at Miss Jensen.
“I’m Elena Pontrelli, and you are?” While her manners are impeccable, her tone’s far more threatening than necessary.
I frown down at her, unable to assess her strange change in mood. What’s gotten into her?
The wedding planner smiles and shakes her offered hand. “Crystal Jensen. So very nice to meet you, Elena.”
“I wish I could say the same.” Her tone’s cold enough to freeze the devil in hell. Is this more of her acting out behavior? Has she stooped so low that she’s now being rude to everyone?
Miss Jensen’s jaw drops in shock, crimson touches her cheeks. I take one look at Elena’s steely expression, the flash in her eyes, and everything clicks into place.
At least I think it does. Is Elena jealous? I slide my fingers across my mouth to hide my delighted smile.
Arms crossed, she asks, “Why are you pawing all over my fiancé?”
“Pawing…” Miss Jensen glances at me for help, her eyes wide with bewilderment. “Was I?”
I take a minute to see the wedding planner as a woman instead of hired help.
She has straight dark hair, almond-shaped brown eyes, and full lips.
I suppose she’s pretty. Actually, from a purely physical standpoint, she’s quite beautiful.
But her looks do nothing for me. There’s not an iota of chemistry between us. But Elena doesn’t know that.
Unable to help myself, I chuckle.
Elena turns her searing glare on me. “You should be ashamed of yourself for letting another woman touch you so familiarly—especially at our engagement party.”
If only she meant every word she said. I know she’s only playing the possessive fiancée because she’s angry at me, and doesn’t want to be embarrassed in public. She doesn’t give a shit about our relationship. She hates this party. She loathes me, even though she wants to fuck me.
Not until we’re married, bella.
I sober under her scathing gaze. “Elena, Miss Jensen is our wedding planner. It’s quite literally her job to paw her clients into perfection. I’m sure she straightens pocket squares and removes lint on a daily basis.”
Miss Jensen nods. “I apologize. I didn’t mean anything by it. In fact,” she glances at Elena’s hair, “you have a strand out of place. Just… here.”
My fiancée turns a beautiful shade of bright pink as the reality of the situation sinks in, and Miss Jensen smooths that stray strand of her hair.