Chapter 30 #2
Even from here, I can see the intensity in his stance, the barely contained energy. He shifts his weight slightly, and I know he’s impatient, wondering where I am, if I’ll come. The thought sends a flutter through my stomach.
This powerful, dangerous man is waiting for me. Although I want to rush to him, he can wait a little longer.
With a deep breath, I pull back from my hidden viewpoint and walk to the small room where Onyx waits with Susan, who volunteered to keep him company while I finished getting ready.
My cat sits regally on a velvet bench, a small white harness fitted around his sleek black body, the matching leash coiled beside him.
When he sees me, he blinks slowly.
“Ready for your big moment?” I ask him, scratching behind his ears. He pushes against my hand, purring loudly, the vibration traveling up my arm.
“He’s been a good boy,” Susan says, smiling as she strokes Onyx’s head.
Reaching for her coat, she stands and tells me she’ll head back to the mansion and make sure everything’s ready for later.
“Wait,” I say. “Don’t you want to stay?”
I don’t need to know the full ins and outs of Raffaele and Susan’s relationship to know they’re important to each other.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she replies. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“You’re his family, Susan. You should be here.” I squeeze her hand gently. “Besides… your books are the reason I even understood him. Without those stories, I don’t think I’d ever have considered Raffaele’s proposal.”
Susan’s eyes well up, and before I know what she’s doing, she hugs me fiercely. “Thank you,” she murmurs.
Letting go of her, I pick up Onyx, cradling him against my chest. His weight is familiar and comforting, his warmth seeping through the delicate lace of my dress. I take his leash in my free hand, looping it loosely around my wrist.
“Don’t squirm,” I whisper to him, though whether I’m really talking to him or to my own racing heart, I’m not sure.
As soon as I have him in my arms, Susan opens the door and walks with me to the entrance of the sanctuary before slipping ahead to join the others near the altar.
The organ music changes, shifting to the traditional wedding march. My heart pounds so loudly I’m certain everyone must hear it echoing off the stone walls. Onyx seems to sense my anxiety, remaining perfectly still in my arms as the heavy wooden doors open fully.
Every head turns. Every eye fixes on me. The aisle stretches before me like an endless road, the red carpet vibrant against the ancient stone floor. I focus on breathing, on placing one foot in front of the other, on keeping Onyx steady in my arms.
My eyes find Raffaele at the end of the aisle, and everything else falls away. His gaze locks with mine, intense and unwavering. Even from a distance, I can see the muscle ticking in his jaw, the slight parting of his lips as he watches my approach.
There’s hunger in his eyes, yes—but something else too, something that makes my heart stutter in my chest.
Halfway down the aisle, a flash of color catches my eye. I turn slightly and nearly stumble when I see it—a framed photograph of my mom, smiling, set on an elegant easel beside where Susan stands.
The image is from before her illness, when her eyes still sparkled and her smile came easily. It’s one of my favorite pictures of her, one I thought I’d never see again. The lump in my throat grows painful, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.
I didn’t expect this gesture, didn’t think anyone would consider my mom’s absence on my wedding day. But somehow, my new family found this photo. Somehow, they knew to include her.
My steps falter for just a moment before I force myself to continue, blinking rapidly to clear my vision.
As I continue walking, my eyes drift to the front row. That’s where I wanted Sabrina to sit. Despite everything, I asked Piper and Raven to personally deliver my sister’s invitation.
But the seat remains empty. My only blood family has chosen not to come.
The realization shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. After all, what has Sabrina ever done but cause me pain? Yet the empty space seems to mock me.
Silent tears slide down my cheeks as I continue my walk toward Raffaele. I don’t try to hide them. Why would I when half of them are happy tears caused by my mom’s smiling face?
I swallow hard and refocus on Raffaele, on the man waiting for me. His eyes haven’t left me for a second, tracking my progress with an intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness.
There’s something almost predatory in his stance; shoulders tense, body coiled, as if he might leap forward and snatch me the rest of the way if I take too long.
Three more steps.
Two.
One.
And then I’m there, standing before him, my heart pounding so hard I’m certain he must hear it.
I carefully hand Onyx to Piper, who takes him with a reassuring smile. The cat settles in her arms without protest, as if he understands the gravity of the moment.
When I turn back to Raffaele, his eyes are burning into mine, intense and possessive. The space between us feels charged, electric, as if the very air has become a conductor for whatever this is growing between us.
He extends his hands to me, and I place my trembling fingers in his palms. His grip is warm, steady, anchoring me to this moment when everything else feels surreal.
The priest, an older man with kind eyes and a gentle voice, begins the ceremony, but his words wash over me like background noise. All I can focus on are Raffaele’s thumbs stroking small circles on the back of my hands; the slight pressure a silent conversation between us.
“Dearly beloved,” the priest intones, “we are gathered here today to witness the union of Raffaele Andrea Russo and Alina Kate Brewer in holy matrimony.”
I study Raffaele’s face as the priest speaks of commitment and partnership. His expression remains impassive to anyone who doesn’t know him, but I’ve learned to read the subtle shifts in him. Like the softening around his eyes, the almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth.
He looks… happy.
A warmth spreads through my chest as I hold his gaze, a feeling I can’t quite name. This man who collected me like a debt, yet touched me like I was precious. Who showed me parts of myself I never knew existed.
This man is about to become my husband. The thought should terrify me, but instead, I feel a strange sense of rightness, as if all paths were always leading here.
His skin is warm, his grip firm yet gentle. A strange heat spreads through my chest at the contact, something unfamiliar and frightening in its intensity.
Is this normal? This feeling like my heart is simultaneously too big for my chest and being squeezed in a vise? Is it fear or something else entirely?
I search Raffaele’s face for clues, but his expression reveals nothing beyond that same intense focus he always has when looking at me. As if he can see straight through to parts of myself I didn’t know existed.
“And now,” the priest says, pulling my attention back, “Raffaele would like to share his vows.”
My eyes widen in surprise. Vows? We never discussed this. I’d assumed our ceremony would be perfunctory. An exchange of rings and signatures, and nothing more. The cathedral falls absolutely silent. Even Onyx seems to hold his breath in Piper’s arms.
Raffaele clears his throat and squeezes my hands tighter. “Alina,” he begins, his deep voice filling the space between us. “I collected you because of a debt. Our story began with business, with obligation.” He pauses, his eyes never leaving mine. “But that’s not why we’re standing here today.”
My heart thuds painfully against my ribs. What is he doing?
“I vow to protect you, to keep you safe from anyone who would harm you, including myself. I’ll not just provide for you, but also ensure that you never want for anything within my power to give. I vow to be honest with you, even when the truth is difficult.”
His words aren’t flowery declarations of love, but somehow they affect me more deeply than any poetry could. Each promise feels solid, personal. It’s not romance, but it’s… honest.
“As my wife, I vow to respect you. Anything that matters to you will matter to me, and I won’t hold you back or stop you from flourishing.”
Tears prick at my eyes again. How did he know exactly what I needed to hear?
“And I vow that as my wife you will be my equal in all things. Your voice will be heard. Your wishes considered. Your happiness…” he pauses, something flickering in his intense green eyes, “will be essential to mine.”
I blink rapidly against the tears threatening to spill over.
“You’re mine now, Alina. My wife. And I protect what’s mine.”
When he finishes, I’m left speechless. I have nothing prepared in return. No vows, no promises, nothing but the tremble in my hands and the tightness in my throat.
“I-I don’t have vows prepared,” I whisper, mortification heating my cheeks. “I didn’t know—”
“It’s alright,” the priest begins, but Raffaele interrupts.
“It’s okay,” he says softly, his fingers tightening around mine. “I didn’t expect you to have vows. But you deserve mine.”
Relief washes through me, followed immediately by a rush of something warmer, deeper. The simple acknowledgment that he understands me, that he doesn’t expect from me what I cannot give—it feels more intimate than any touch we’ve shared.
“Very well,” the priest says with a gentle smile. “Now, the rings.”
Raven steps forward, holding a simple white-gold band that gleams under the cathedral lights. She places it in my palm with a wink, and I turn back to Raffaele.
“Repeat after me,” the priest instructs. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
My voice trembles slightly as I slide the ring onto Raffaele’s finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
Matteo approaches next, bearing two rings on a small velvet cushion—one a simple white-gold band like the one I just placed on Raffaele’s finger. The other is more elaborate, with diamonds glittering in an intricate setting. Raffaele takes them both, his eyes never leaving mine.
“With this ring, I thee wed,” he says, sliding the simpler band onto my finger. Then, to my surprise, he takes the second ring. “And with this one, I mark you as mine.”
The diamond ring slides into place alongside the first, the two forming a perfect pair. The weight of them is unfamiliar but not unwelcome—physical symbols of the ties that now bind us.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” He turns to Raffaele with a smile. “You may kiss your bride.”
Raffaele doesn’t hesitate. His hand slides to the small of my back, pulling me against him as his other hand cups my face.
When his lips meet mine, it’s not the gentle kiss I expected for a church ceremony; it’s possessive, claiming, his tongue sweeping into my mouth as he bends me backward in a dramatic dip that pulls a startled gasp from my throat.
I cling to his shoulders, surrendering to the kiss as the small gathering applauds. In this moment, I feel utterly secure despite the precarious position. How can I not when I’m held safely in arms strong enough to catch me no matter how far I fall.
When he finally straightens, bringing me upright with him, his eyes are dark with promise. “Mogliettina,” he murmurs against my lips.
“What does that mean?” I ask, breathless from the kiss.
“My wife,” he pauses for a second, “Wifey might be more accurate.” Something in the way he says it—possessive, reverent—makes me shiver. “You are my wife now, Alina Brewer-Russo.”
“Say it again,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
A slow smile spreads across his face, dangerous and beautiful. “Mogliettina,” he growls into my ear, his breath hot against my skin.
I whimper softly, heat pooling between my thighs at the raw possession in his voice. His arm tightens around my waist, drawing me closer as he leads me down the aisle, now as husband and wife.