Chapter 5
ISLA
“How do I look?”
Luna sashays out of the bedroom in her bungalow with an exaggerated swagger.
She’s wearing a white silk wedding gown that looks like it was made specifically for her.
Knowing the kind of wealth and power her husband has, it probably was.
She’s a beautiful bride. I can’t believe we’re standing here together on her wedding day.
Her wedding day that counts, the one she chose.
And she’s about to spend the rest of her life with the man she loves.
I’m so damn happy for her that nothing else matters, not even the part where her husband is a Mafia kingpin.
From everything she’s told me, Priest is loyal, dedicated, and supportive.
On top of that, he loves her so much it’s almost ridiculous.
No one deserves this more than she does.
I sniffle, my eyes fogging up.
The sun is shining, everything is on time and organized to the nth degree, and it’s all unfolding according to plan. I’m so happy, I could cry.
I am crying.
Shit.
I’ve already had my makeup done.
“You look incredible,” I manage, frantically blinking my fake eyelashes in the hopes that they’ll somehow make the tears go away before they streak down my foundation.
“Are you sure?” Wrinkling her nose, she spins around. “It’s not too tight?”
“Are you even for real right now? When Priest sees you in that, he’s going to throw you over his shoulder and carry you off into the sunset to have his wicked way with you.”
Luna grins at me. “You think?”
“I know.” I sniff again, because those stupid, persistent tears are back. “I’m so happy for you.”
My voice breaks on the last word. I don’t usually cry at weddings, but this is my best friend’s wedding. My sister from another mister. My ride-or-die.
Luna comes for me, arms outstretched. “You’re going to ruin your makeup, Is.”
We hug.
“I know. But you’re so beautiful and this is your wedding day and you look like you just breezed in from Paris Fashion Week.”
She snorts. “Please. I look like a poet with a fairy godmother.”
“A hot fairy godmother named Rocco who drives you when you want to go on shopping sprees.”
It’s true. Luna’s driver is a handsome man. Dark-haired, tatted hands, a general aura of menace. A lot like someone else I met on this island. Someone I will not be thinking about ever again.
Even if I did—humiliatingly—go to the hotel bar last night after Luna went to bed, secretly hoping he might be on shift. Or not on shift but somewhere we might run into each other. I never did find out why he was tending bar when he’s not a bartender. Unless that was all BS.
No.
Stop it, Isla.
Spoiler alert: he wasn’t there. I’m an idiot. It was a one-night stand and the best sex of my life, and that’s it. That’s all. Which is for the best, because my life is a shitshow right now, and the last thing I need is another complication to add to the mix.
“Are you crushing on Rocco?” Luna asks me.
“Of course not. Sexy mobster driver slash bodyguards are so not my thing.” I realize how insensitive that sounds and wince. “No offense. It’s just…this is a part of your world I may never understand.”
“None taken. I get it. The life is a lot to wrap your head around, but I guess since I was born into this world, it isn’t quite as bananas for me as it must be for you.”
Bananas is a really nice way of putting it.
I’m a proud nerdy girl. The night before last was the most adventurous thing I’ve done in…
maybe ever. I don’t understand shady underworld dealings, billionaire criminal enterprises, or violence.
I’m not sure how Luna handles that side of things, but she and Priest obviously love each other so much that nothing else matters.
“I’m just saying that, objectively, he’s a good-looking man,” I add for good measure.
Luna grins again. “Noted. I guess Rocco isn’t the source of your hickey, then. By the way, the makeup team did a fantastic job of covering that up for you. I can barely even see it.”
I groaned. “You can still see it?”
I’d been to the makeup duo before checking in on Luna. She is next in the torture chamber, not that she needed even a hint of makeup. She’s flawlessly gorgeous on her own, the lucky bitch.
“I only know it’s there because I saw it yesterday.” Her grin fades. “No matching one today?”
My cheeks are on fire.
“I told you, it was just a fling.”
“With the best sex ever. Right.” She waggles her eyebrows. “You’ll be here for a few more days. Maybe you can find him after the wedding’s over.”
“Nope,” I answer instantly, popping the p for emphasis. “Not happening. I’m here for you. That’s all.”
“And maybe the breathtaking views,” she teases.
“Eh, those are just kind of whatever.”
Luna laughs. “Okay, how are we doing on time? I don’t have my phone.”
I’m in charge of keeping this show running, so I’m clearly failing at my bestie maid of honor duties. I check my phone. “We’re good on time, but you need to get to hair and makeup. The flowers were delivered while you were dressing, and they’re amazing.”
Massive sprays of white hydrangeas for Luna’s bridal bouquet and pale-blue roses for the rest. Her beachy-chic theme has come together perfectly.
We head into the main area of the bungalow, where the rest of the bridal party is waiting.
I met them yesterday—they’re her husband’s cousins, and they’re all way more chill than I had envisioned they would be, being a part of the mob world.
They exclaim over Luna’s dress, as thrilled for her as I am, and then we hustle her over to hair and makeup for the finishing touches. Somehow, I manage to keep my tears to a minimum by listening to the lighthearted banter of the bridal party.
It’s going to be an incredible day.
I just know it.
The violinist is playing the walk-in songs of the bridesmaids—a different, handpicked song for each one—as I wait my turn, bare toes in the sand. The day is hot, the sun bright. I’m sweating in this dress, and I hope I don’t have swamp stains under my tits. But nothing is going to get me down.
My girl is about to walk down the aisle. I sniffle again, because I feel like a proud mama bear and I can’t help myself. The chorus of “Birds of a Feather” by Billie Eilish starts up on the violin, and suddenly, it’s my turn.
Smiling, I slowly make my way down the aisle before the intimate gathering on the beach, the gorgeous sea an incredible backdrop.
The photographers are snapping away and all eyes are on me, so I bite my lip and start reciting Shakespeare in my head to avoid weeping like a baby and ruining my makeup and the ceremony both.
I will hereupon confess I am in love: and as it is base for a soldier to love, so am I in love with a base wench. If drawing my sword against…
A muttered curse catches my attention, so low I can barely make it out, but I’d know that voice anywhere. The last time I heard it, it was saying filthy things to me.
What the actual fuck?
Shakespeare dies as I lock eyes with the best man, who’s standing at the altar next to Luna’s husband. Those eyes are Caribbean blue, and they stared into my soul while his face was buried between my thighs and he sucked my clit like it was the most delicious lollipop he’d ever tasted.
He’s tall, dark-haired, and even sexier in the sunshine than he was that night, his tatted hands at his sides, a white linen shirt draped over his broad chest and hiding his eight-pack from view.
It’s Alessio.
Oh my God. Oh my fucking God.
Alessio, whom I slept with two nights ago, is the best man.
But that doesn’t make any sense at all, because Luna told me that Priest’s brother is the best man, and that would mean…
I stumble in the sand as realization hits me, almost humiliating myself by pitching face first into the beach.
I had a one-night stand with Luna’s brother-in-law.
Not just her brother-in-law either.
A mobster. A dangerous criminal. A man who probably orders hits the way the rest of us do hamburgers in the drive-through lane. An investor, my ass. That lying, shady, smoking-hot jerk.
My face is on fire as I make my way to the place where the wedding planner told me to stand during our practice run this morning, which was conducted with the bridal party only. The men had done theirs separately, or I might not have made my hideous discovery in front of an audience.
Gripping my bouquet so hard that I’m about to snap off the unsuspecting stems, I face the guests, looking to where Luna should appear any second to make her way down the aisle.
To make matters worse, apparently not all the thorns were removed from the roses, because one of them bites viciously into my palm.
The violinist gracefully shifts to a new song.
As the strains of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” begin to play, Luna heads down the aisle, her eyes locked on Priest. Her hair is styled in beachy waves, and she’s dripping in diamonds, one white rose tucked into her hair.
She’s the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen, like something straight out of one of those lifestyle magazines you page through and think no one looks like that in real life. But she does.
And this is her day.
I can ignore Alessio. So what if we slept together? We sure as hell won’t be repeating that terrible mistake a second time. I’ll be polite and distant and pretend I don’t know who he is.
Blinking furiously, I focus on Luna and Priest as they meet at the altar. He holds out a hand to her, and she takes it. The love shining in both of their eyes is almost too much to watch without bawling.
Shakespeare, I remind myself, trying to return to where I was.
But I make the mistake of casting a glance in Alessio’s direction instead.
A jolt of awareness shoots through me, my body recognizing his in an instinctive way I can’t seem to control.
My nipples harden and my pussy pulses and this is so not the place or the time.
I don’t know what I read in his eyes. But he doesn’t look any happier than I am about this unpleasant development, so I jerk my eyes back to the happy couple.
Priest is kissing Luna’s hand now and telling her he loves her in Italian.
It’s like a Hallmark movie come to life.
Objectively, Priest is also one sexy-as-fuck man, and he and Luna are an unfairly genetically blessed couple.
They’re going to make gorgeous babies if they choose to go that route one day.
I blink some more as the tears come back at the thought of my best friend having a mini Luna.
I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it.
I’m five seconds away from turning into a blubbering mess.
Thankfully, the officiant saves me, stepping in to begin the ceremony.
Except the words are every bit as moving. I can’t help but listen. Can’t help but watch the way Priest and Luna look at each other, like they’re the only two people in the world. I don’t think Christian ever looked at me that way, not even on the day he proposed.
But I guess he didn’t love me like he said he did either, or he wouldn’t have cheated on me.
The reminder of his betrayal doesn’t sting quite as much now that I’ve had a little while to unwind in St. Thomas.
Getting to spend a few days with Luna in person rather than relying on FaceTime and texts did me a world of good.
Sometimes, there are problems that only a bestie and a good glass of wine—or two—can solve.
It had nothing to do with having incredible, mind-melting orgasms all night long, courtesy of a certain mobster. Absolutely not.
I won’t think about him.
I won’t even look at him.
I won’t—
Damn it, as if my eyes have a will of their own, they flick to Alessio.
He’s watching me. It’s the same kind of stare I imagine a lion might give to its prey before he swallows it whole.
I’m hit with a melting wave of heat, and it has nothing to do with the blazing Caribbean sun overhead and everything to do with the memory of what those tatted hands and that sinner’s mouth did to me during our night together.
Never again, I remind myself as I force my eyes back to the happy couple as they start exchanging their personalized vows.
One night only. The last thing I need is to get caught up with a Mafia bad boy.
It doesn’t matter if his tongue is capable of performing feats I didn’t even know were possible up until two evenings ago.
Other men have tongues. Men who aren’t criminal masterminds and murderers.
After what went down with Christian, I should take a nice long break from the male species. I probably shouldn’t have even indulged in a one-night stand with Alessio. If I’d just told my ovaries to shut up, I wouldn’t be in such an uncomfortable situation, having slept with the best man.
What would Luna say if she realized the hickey on my neck came from her brother-in-law? I would die of eternal shame if she knew. She can never find out. I’m going to have to find a way to get Alessio alone during the reception and tell him to keep what happened between us a secret.
I don’t know how Luna would react, and I’m not about to do anything that would jeopardize her happiness on her wedding day. My stomach knots. He’d better agree not to breathe a word to anyone. Not even to his brother.
What if he told Priest already?
Next to me, cousin Carina whispers, “You’re bleeding.”
Shit.
She’s right. Blood from the thorn is trickling down my wrist and headed straight for my blue silk.
“Thorn,” I mutter back at her.
There’s nothing nearby for me to use to catch the blood.
I’m screwed. The ceremony is still going on, and I have no choice but to use the white ribbon wrapped around my rose bouquet to blot up the blood before it wreaks havoc on my bridesmaid dress.
Carefully, I turn the bouquet so the bloody ribbon faces me.
That’s one crisis averted and one more to go.
Trying my best to chill the panic boiling inside me, I glue my eyes to Priest and Luna, listening to their words of eternal love and devotion.
Somehow, I manage to keep myself from looking in Alessio’s direction for the remainder of the ceremony. I’ll face the lion later.