Chapter 15 #2
"The real question is… can you, Sir?"
I groaned because I was only still here for her. If this was about me, they would have sent out a search party immediately after the door opened for her to walk down the damn aisle.
We danced with family members. I waltzed with my mother while Angelina was spun around by my father.
Then with Gianna, with Maya and the rest of her bridesmaids, with various aunts and cousins who all wanted their moment.
And every time I caught Angelina's eye across the dance floor, the heat between us ratcheted higher.
Vincent approached the head table while I was temporarily alone, Angelina having been pulled aside by some of her subordinates.
"Congratulations," he said, the word sounding like it cost him physically.
"Thank you." I didn't bother pretending to be friendly.
"She's made her choice clear." He glanced toward Angelina. "Aligning with your family."
"She didn't align with my family. She married me. There's a difference."
"Is there?" His smile was cold. "Either way, I suppose this means our... working relationship will be changing."
"Drastically." I leaned back in my chair, completely relaxed despite the threat I was about to make. "In fact, I'd suggest you start making plans for your retirement. Effective immediately after our honeymoon."
"You have no pull or place in our business."
"I can. And I will." I smiled. "See, the thing about marrying into the Moretti family is that we protect our own. Aggressively. And we don't tolerate anyone threatening what's ours."
"I haven't threatened?—"
"You've been positioning yourself to take over the moment she failed to meet the terms of the will.
And you've made it very clear what would happen to her if she succeeded.
" I leaned forward. "So yes. You've threatened her. And now you're going to pay for it. What kind of man preys on a grieving daughter? You’re her uncle. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? "
His face went white. "You have no proof that I’ve done such things.
And yes it matters that I’m her uncle. That’s why she needs to concede and go do womanly things.
She has no business trying to run this company.
I tolerated her mother because she created the products, but now it's time for her to let the man of the family show her how it’s done. "
“As the man of the family,” I sat up straight to make sure that he understood that was me and not him, “I have no desire to run Castellano & Co. That’s my wife’s business.
Do I make myself clear? All of your shady dealings are about to disappear.
You can resign quietly. Walk away with your freedom while you still have a choice. ”
"The Vitales?—"
"Won't save you. They're not going to risk their treaty with us over some middle-management embezzler who got greedy." I stood, buttoning my jacket. "You have until we return from Santorini to make your decision. After that, I will make it for you."
I walked away, leaving him sitting there with the weight of his future crushing down on him.
Angelina materialized at my side immediately. "Everything okay?"
"Perfect." I kissed her temple. "Ready to go?"
"We still have—" she checked her phone, "time. Plus, presents!"
"Close enough." I grabbed her hand and started pulling her toward the exit. “We can open gifts when we come back.”
"Dez, we can't just leave?—"
"Watch me."
Angelina dug in her heels and halted us. “No, I want to open gifts.”
I growled loudly. “Angelina…”
“Desmond.” She waited with now folded arms. “Nothing is going to make me less yours. Today is the most perfect day in my life and I’d really like to enjoy the celebration.”
I didn’t say a word, instead, I sat down in a nearby seat and leaned forward on my knees. I swallowed my frustration and irritation.
“Let me know when you’re ready.”
Angelina squealed, kissed my forehead, and ran toward the gift table.
She signaled Gianna, who signaled the DJ.
It was difficult to stay upset when I noticed how elated she was opening all the presents.
There were quite a lot of them. After forty minutes, Angelina looked exhausted and there was still so much more to go.
I joined her but when I looked around at all of it, I knew there was no way she was going to finish tonight.
I pulled out my cell and called for my guards.
Fifteen minutes later, they were carrying all of that stuff outside to a van with orders to take it to our penthouse.
Angelina insisted that everybody put their names, numbers, and address on the cards that were on their tables so that she could send thank you cards.
Even in the middle of our wedding reception, she was thinking about proper etiquette and maintaining relationships. That was my wife.
Next was the bouquet and garter toss. Angelina had one made up to be tossed because the one she'd walked down the aisle with was silk flowers that she planned to keep.
The garter wasn't the one she'd worn either.
I'd been very clear about that. I didn't want anybody walking around with her scent embedded in that silk. That was mine.
The bouquet toss went first. All the single women gathered on the dance floor including Angelina's bridesmaids minus Maya, who was very much taken.
Angelina turned her back to the crowd and threw.
Imani caught it. She stared at the flowers like they'd personally offended her, then looked around as if trying to figure out who to blame for this development.
I had to hide my smile. She was definitely not the type who bought into wedding superstitions.
Then came my turn. I made a show of it, kneeling in front of Angelina while she sat in a chair, hiking up her reception dress slowly while the crowd whooped and hollered.
The garter was white lace, sitting high on her thigh, and I took my time removing it with my teeth just to watch her cheeks flush.
"You're terrible," she whispered.
"You love it," I murmured against her skin before pulling the garter free.
I stood, twirled it around my finger, and turned to face the crowd of single men.
My brothers were front and center. Nikolai grinning like an idiot, Andrey already trying to position himself for the best catch.
I swapped the garter for the one in my pocket and I threw it directly at Nikolai's face.
He caught it reflexively, then looked at me with an expression that clearly said really?
I shrugged. What? He was my best man. It was tradition.
"Alright, alright," the DJ called out. "Tradition says the bouquet catcher and garter catcher dance together. Imani and Nikolai, get out here!"
Imani looked like she'd rather eat glass.
Nikolai looked intrigued. They met in the center of the dance floor while the DJ put on something slow and romantic.
Nikolai held out his hand with exaggerated gallantry, and Imani took it with visible reluctance.
I pulled Angelina into my arms at the edge of the dance floor, ostensibly to give the traditional couple some space, but really so I could watch this unfold.
"Your brother is trouble," Angelina murmured.
"All my brothers are trouble," I corrected. "But Nikolai's the charming kind."
"And Imani doesn't do charming."
"I noticed."
We swayed gently while I kept my attention on the couple in the center of the floor.
Nikolai said something that made Imani's eyebrows shoot up.
She responded with what looked like a cutting remark, based on the way his grin widened.
He pulled her closer than necessary for a polite dance and she let him.
Interesting.
"She's going to eat him alive," Angelina said, following my gaze.
"Maybe. Or maybe he's exactly what she needs."
Imani was all controlled intensity, I knew the type. I was the male version. She was the kind who didn't suffer fools and probably scared off most men with her competence. Nikolai, on the other hand, had never met a challenge he didn't find entertaining.
As I watched, he spun her, clearly showing off. She rolled her eyes but there was a smile playing on her lips. When he pulled her back, his hand settled on the small of her back, and she didn't move it.
"He's flirting," I observed.
"She's letting him," Angelina countered. "That's the surprising part. Imani usually shuts down guys who try that smooth operator routine."
"Nikolai's not most guys."
My brother said something else, leaning close to her ear. Imani threw her head back and laughed—a real laugh, not the polite social one. Nikolai's expression shifted into something more genuine, less performative.
The song ended but they didn't immediately separate. Nikolai kept his hand on her back. Imani kept her hand on his shoulder. They stood there talking, the bouquet and garter forgotten, just... connecting.
"Huh," Angelina said softly.
"Yeah."
"Should we be worried?"
"About what? Nikolai falling for one of your friends?" I pulled her closer. "Why would that be a problem?"
"Because your brother is…" She paused, searching for words.
"A player? A troublemaker? Someone who's never had a serious relationship in his life?"
"All of that."
"True." I watched Nikolai finally step back, saw him pull out his phone, probably getting Imani's number. "But I've also never seen him look at a woman like that."
"Like what?"
"Like he wants to know what she thinks. Not just what she looks like naked." I pressed a kiss to Angelina's temple. "Trust me. I recognize the look. It's the same one I had when I met you."
"You wanted to know what I thought?"
"I wanted to know everything." I spun her gently. "Still do."
Nikolai and Imani finally left the dance floor, separately, but I noticed they gravitated to the same side of the room. He grabbed two champagne flutes from a passing server and handed her one. She accepted it with a small smile that was absolutely.
"Oh, she's in trouble," Angelina murmured.
"So is he."
"Think they'll actually do anything about it?"
I watched my brother, smooth, charming Nikolai who'd dated half of Seattle’s eligible women without ever settling down, lean against the wall next to Imani with his full attention focused on her like she was the only person in the room.
And I watched Imani, successful which terrified most men, actually engage with him, her body language open instead of closed off.
"Yeah," I said. "I think they will."
"Should we warn them?"
"Warn them about what? That falling fast and hard for someone you just met is crazy?" I pulled Angelina flush against me. "Because I'm pretty sure we're not the ones to give that advice."
She laughed. "Fair point."
Nikolai said something that made Imani swat his arm—playful, not annoyed.
He caught her hand before she could pull it back, threading their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Neither of them seemed to notice they were still holding hands.
Now it was my turn to say the same about Nikolai.
"Oh yeah," I said. "He's definitely in trouble."
"Good trouble or bad trouble?" Angelina mirrored my earlier words.
I thought about the last three months. About how Angelina had turned my life upside down. About how she'd made me feel things I'd spent forever avoiding. About how I'd paid a quarter million dollars just to spend one night with her and ended up wanting forever.
"The best kind of trouble," I said.
Angelina followed my gaze back to Nikolai and Imani, who were now deep in conversation, still holding hands, completely oblivious to the rest of the reception.
I checked my watch. "Are you ready, sweetheart?"
"Dez—"
"I kept my promise. I stayed. I danced. I cut the cake and threw the garter and smiled for approximately seven thousand photos. I even gave in to your ridiculous need to open a billion gifts." I pulled her toward the exit. "Now I'm taking my wife home."
"But—"
"No buts. Gianna can handle the rest. Your friends know where we're going. And Nikolai—" I glanced back at my brother one more time, "—is clearly occupied."
Angelina looked torn between propriety and desire. Desire won.
"Okay," she said. "Let's go home."
I didn't need to be told twice.
Gianna intercepted us at the door, holding up sparklers and a basket of rose petals. "At least do the sendoff properly. Give them something to remember."
Five minutes later, we were running through a tunnel of sparklers and thrown rose petals while our guests cheered. Someone had decorated my car with tin cans tied to the bumper, "Just Married" written in shaving cream on the windows.
I didn't care.
I helped Angelina into the passenger seat, her dress riding up to show those perfect thighs, and had to resist the urge to take her right there in the parking lot.
"Home," she breathed. "Take me home."
I peeled out of the parking lot with a screech of tires that would have made my driving instructor weep. But my wife was laughing, her hand on my thigh, her eyes full of promise.
"I love you," I said, weaving through traffic with single-minded determination.
"I love you too." Her hand crept higher. "Drive faster."
I did. I drove us home to begin the rest of our lives. In the elevator up, I pinned Angelina against the wall and kissed her like a drowning man finding air. Her legs wrapped around my waist, her hands in my hair, her mouth opening under mine with a desperation that matched my own.
The elevator dinged.
I carried her through the doors, across the threshold, and straight to our bedroom.
"Finally," Angelina breathed as I set her down.
"Finally," I agreed.
And then I showed my wife exactly what I’d been wanting to do to her all day. Claim her physically as mine. No condoms, no birth control, and with pure desire, I filled her with my seed over and over again.
Marked.