Chapter 27 #2
A moment passed with his heartbeat stumbling beneath my ear. I slid my hand down his spine, slipping it just beneath the waistband of his pants, and he groaned.
“But what?” I prompted.
He held me tighter, choking on a painful sound. “I can’t hurt you, bird. You’re the only wound that will never heal.”
“Oh, Luca.” I clung to him as reality set in. Our world was full of heartache and death. The chances we’d both make it out of the Cosa Nostra alive were slim. Except there was one absolute truth I would never deny. I wiggled from his hold and looked into the deep blue to share my own confession.
“I would rather have all of you for a day. A month. A year. Any increment of time with you is worth a life full of pain.”
“Vivienne,” he breathed, dropping his forehead to mine. “I will try for you. I will do anything for you.”
So it was decided. We walked hand in hand to the house of lies and regret, where we planned a ceremony that would bind us together for eternity—in this world and the next.
?
“YOU DON’T HAVE to do this,” Sam hissed as we looked through Mama’s dresses, searching for her perfect fit. As my only bridesmaid, I wanted her in something light, but she was gravitating toward black.
“It’s not a funeral.” I removed the hanger from her hand, sliding it back on the rack where it belonged.
“How about this one? It’s a shade darker than mine, and the hem was long on Mama, so it’ll hit the tips of your toes.
” The off-the-shoulder Marchesa original had floral appliqués and a draped bodice, and the sunset pink against Sam’s golden skin would stun the small crowd gathering to witness the sacrament.
She faced me, taking the gown and holding it to her frame without any enthusiasm. “I thought you were leaving. How are we even talking about a wedding right now?”
I shrugged. “I know it’s sudden, but you’re worrying about nothing.”
“Ugh, hello in there.” She tapped my temple with a soft touch. “I haven’t even mentioned the coma—”
I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t a coma, just a deep sleep that lasted a few days. I was catching up on my rest. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” The sarcasm was strong. So was her huff. It was loud enough that the exaggerated displeasure was probably heard by the staff rushing to prepare for the celebration about to take place.
The ceremony binding me to Luca.
Our vows.
The moment I would belong to him.
Luca and his hands. His lips and tongue. His kiss. His teeth scraping down my neck. Luca touching me for the first time.
Our wedding night.
Anticipation shot through my veins.
“I’m happy,” I said, turning to the vanity. “That hasn’t happened in a long time. Can you find a glimmer of excitement in your heart? Just a little?”
She hung up the Marchesa, then sat in front of me to assist with my transformation. The first step was primer. Then foundation. “This is crazy,” she mumbled.
“Don’t be so critical. It’s my life.”
“Exactly. It’s yours, and days ago, Luca wasn’t even your boyfriend, yet today he’ll be your husband. Saying this is crazy is fair because it is crazy. It’s fucking insane. You don’t even love him.”
“I do,” I insisted, “and you might think that’s crazy too, but the feelings between us started years ago when we first met. It’s like we’re des—”
“Oh, no. No way.” She started in with concealer. “Do not say destiny. Marriage to this thug is archaic. Arranged marriages don’t exist in the twenty-first century.”
A shot of anger burned through my veins while she scanned my face, touching up a cheekbone with more blush.
“They do in the Cosa Nostra,” I snapped, though apparently not sharp enough because she just kept pushing.
“Whatever happened to running away?” she asked. “I’ll even help by rolling you in a garment bag and stuffing you in the trunk of my car. I saw the breakout once in a movie, and it worked like a charm.” She came at me with a brush, a puff of powder exploding against my skin.
“Stop,” I said, batting at her wrist. “Contracts are how marriage works in my world. If my groom is not Luca, then it will be some other guy. At least I have feelings for him.”
Her eyes dropped as she dug through a drawer of cosmetics. “But do you trust him?”
I swallowed a lump of shame. “Not exactly. Maybe. I mean, I trust him with my body, but my brain still has a few reservations because, you know, the mafia breeds distrust, and my life is twisted.”
Her gaze blinked up to mine. “Exactly. He’s a hit man, Vivi. A hit man. This is a bad idea.”
“He’s also gentle.” I took her hand and held it through a tremble. “I know this sounds scary. I know Luca seems scary. But I’m sure of one thing, and I trust this with everything I am. Luca will never hurt me. He’s my blessing.”
“Fuck, Vivi.” She shook her head. “He’s more like a curse. Your family is something I’ll never understand.”
I pulled away, stopping the stream of negativity. The pushback hurt. “I’m not asking you to understand. I’m asking for your support as my friend. Can you do that?”
It took a moment, but she nodded.
“Good, now make me beautiful for Luca. He deserves a pretty bride.”
“You’re already gorgeous, Vivi. Nothing will ever change that.”
“Still, paint away, artista. Raphael is already waiting in the garden.”
When she was done, I blinked in the mirror and bit my rosy lip.
Sam hid the evidence of Stefano’s abuse, and my skin glowed.
My eyes were subtle yet sultry. She curled and twisted my hair into a soft, intricate knot, with tendrils framing my face.
I was… beautiful. A lump caught in my throat; then I threw myself at her, and we hugged out our disagreement.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“You deserve the best the world has to offer. I just want to see you happy, Vivi.”
“I am.” I squeezed. “I promise, Luca is what I need.”
We parted, and she dressed. Then she helped button me up in Mama’s pink Alexander McQueen. I gripped a handful of flowers from the garden to quell the nerves trembling through my fingers. It was time.
As were many spring afternoons on the coast, the breeze was cool and the falling sun languid, painting the sky in fading pastel watercolors.
Sam left first.
I walked alone.
Vigo and Stefano stood as solemn witnesses to our vows and my pledge to not only Luca but also service to the Cabello family.
A worried Francesca wrung her hands, trying to smile.
Father’s closest confidants were invited to fill the remaining chairs, bystanders to his act of dominance over a daughter he never loved.
Raphael’s robes swayed in the breeze. Dante stood to the left of his rippling cassock.
A horned lark flew in, fluttered its wings in a flurry, and settled on the floral arch surrounding the altar and il mio bel salvatore.
My pulse stumbled, then my heart caught a familiar melody.
With olive coloring, a lean, muscular frame, and striking features, he was unquestionably Italian.
But his beauty was Latin—the language of love and magic.
One look at the rigid line of his jaw and his plump lips, and I was cursed to a lifetime of glorious bondage.
Dark hair was slicked back from his forehead, with one wayward piece slashing black across his skin.
He wore a jacket and tie. The suit he wore daily to conduct deadly business.
I supposed this was the same. We were at the end of one journey and at the start of another.
A storm of sensations blew through my veins.
I blinked to his eyes, and an unexpected ease settled into my bones.
There would be sacrifice and sorrow, joy and laughter.
I would suffer his pain, believe in his happiness, hope for our future, and bear his feelings at the expense of my soul.
And I would not be alone. We. We existed together.
When I stopped in front of Raphael, Sam took my bouquet, and Luca took my hands.
The brush and slide of his calloused fingers stoked a fire he lit with his voice.
His thumb drew calming circles on my skin, even when I held on harder and wouldn’t let go.
While we stared so intensely that the rest of the world disappeared, Luca repeated an ancient vow.
Then I promised myself to him and accepted his name with a shaking but grateful smile that he didn’t reciprocate.
We had no rings, but when the time came for the exchange, Luca wrestled off the gold crest from his pinky and slid it on my ring finger. A perfect fit.
Tears stung my eyes, my heart exploded, and Raphael said aloud the thoughts racing through my head.
“So, it is done.” He paused as if waiting for God or man to object, for lightning to strike and end this union before it began. No one and nothing did, so he sighed and blessed us with the sign of the cross. “May peace find you both.”
Rafi faced my new husband, nodded, then stepped away with Dante and Sam, leaving us alone in an unbelievable moment.
Luca inched closer. “I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured, studying my lips.
“But will we share love?”
His anguished gaze flew to mine. A rough sound scraped his throat as his careful fingers speared through my hair, drawing my mouth an inch from his.
“Does it truly hurt you to want me?” I asked, though I already knew his answer.
I would always be a wound to Luca. I was his Eve.
The forbidden fruit. The apple of temptation that would change everything.
I was the beginning of his fall. He warred with sin—a decision between right and wrong—and he was losing.
He had lost. He was lost. Already, he belonged to me, and I reveled in his destruction.
His fingers dug in, fisting my curls and tugging until my neck was bared.
He bent over me, his warm breath fanning my skin.
His nose and teeth scraped down, down to my pulse that beat frantic and untamed where he pressed his mouth against the riot.
“Hell would be easier to navigate than loving you, Vivienne. Each touch is depravity. Every kiss will corrupt my already immoral heart. But somehow it only beats for you, my little, wicked bird. No one else can control my reckless hunger.”
“Give it to me then. Give me all of you, and I’ll love and cherish and fulfill your every need.”
He lifted his gaze to mine once more. “You don’t know what you ask.”
“I do.” I stroked the line of his scar and held his eyes. “I may be tiny. I may not be beautiful or bold, but with you, I’m strong and willing to bear your fierce touch and gentle soul. I demand both.”
The corner of his mouth curled. “A command from a little bird to a wild wolf.”
“One I never want to tame.”
What little humor he held bled from his features. “Have you ever kissed a man, Vivienne?”
Heat singed my cheeks, and I bristled against my naivety and virginal blush.
But he was right to ask. On the one occasion I was alone with a man who wasn’t Luca, he broke his fingers before he could touch me.
That was the day Luca became my savior. It was also the day I fell in love with him. “You’ll be my first,” I confessed.
He groaned, closing the little distance between us. “In every way?”
“Each touch belongs only to you.”
“Uccello.” His voice was rough and low, hushed enough that our small audience wasn’t privy to the details. “I’m going to take the first of your firsts here, in front of your God and with my heart in your hands.”
He pressed his mouth against mine, so soft, so warm, and so electric, we parted with a gasp.
“Christ, but you’re perfect,” he murmured, then tilted his head, pulled me to him, and kissed me with a firm pressure that parted my lips with his own.
His tongue followed with a gentle glide.
A deep groan rolled through his chest, and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
He deepened his offering, as if he knew exactly what I needed.
And he did. I moaned, the subtle vibration sending a tingle through my limbs that curled my toes in Mama’s heels.
A thousand heartbeats passed as he kissed me, and he kissed me some more. Dante chuckled. Sam said, “Hot damn.”
The interruption didn’t deter my husband.
He pulled away, only to come into me again.
Harder this time, more determined to claim me in front of Christ and the church he thought failed him.
In front of my brothers. Proving to Vigo with his words and actions—I was no longer a Cabello.
Mancini was my name, and I belonged to Luca.
This kiss, this claiming, was as deep and as hot as a brand searing into my skin.
I clung to him, breathless and whimpering for a connection I’d never share with anyone but him.
When our lips parted, his forehead dropped to mine.
“I’ll fucking ruin you, bird. But if that’s what you want, if that’s what you need, I’ll obliterate any thought you’ve ever had of a man before me.
I’ll spread you open and take your perfect cunt, your perfect tits, and this plump fucking mouth.
You’ll suck me dry, and then I’ll fuck you until I’m exhausted and satisfied, and you can’t possibly come again.
Once we start, we won’t stop. There is no stopping this tidal wave, Vivienne. I’m drowning in you.”
My fingers slipped to his lapel, and I licked my lips. I glanced down at his thick erection, the only outward display of his desire. I wasn’t so calm. I shook and trembled, pressing my hips against the bulge nestled between his. “Please.”
“Please what?”
I looked up, losing myself in the intensity of his gaze. “Make me yours, Luca Mancini, from this moment through eternity. Own me.”