65. Basilio
Basilio
“D on’t tell me your wife is ignoring you?” Dante mocked, and I wanted nothing more than to punch him.
I leaned against the wall, watching her dance with Sasha Nikolaev and my blood fucking simmered. I wasn’t fond of the little Nikolaev baby either. He watched her with stars in his eyes, like she was his own personal toy.
“They would have made a striking couple,” Priest remarked, showing up out of nowhere.
He’d been eyeing Ivy, Wynter’s friend, like it was his full-time job.
And that was on top of staring at Wynter’s mom.
My uncle refused to say anything about Priest’s mother but secured himself an invitation to the wedding.
My father didn’t. “Can you imagine how blonde their little babies would have been?” Priest taunted.
I’d return the favor to the fucker, and by the looks he’d been shooting Ivy’s way, and her flushed cheeks, it would be sooner versus later.
“Too blonde,” Emory observed, punching Priest in his gut. “Their babies would have blinded everyone on this planet. I mean, proof is right there with that kid she’s holding.”
Both Sasha and Wynter had golden, fair hair. While she looked more like an angel consumed by a devil next to me, next to him, she appeared angelic in the embrace of an angel. A fucking corrupt, fallen angel but still a goddamn angel.
I watched her hand the baby back to his father and mother. Thank fuck; otherwise, the picture perfect family already seared into my mind. This fucking jealousy burned hotter than the sun.
“Have you heard that Wynter’s mother hadn’t been on the East Coast in over two decades?” Dante asked under his breath.
I met my cousin’s eyes. I nodded, but didn’t elaborate. It was the only condition Brennan put on the wedding. No Gio. It wasn’t as if it was a hardship. I hardly spoke to the man since Wynter’s disappearance nine months ago.
My father was a cruel motherfucker, but I’d never let him hurt her. In fact, I’d keep him as far away from her as possible. It would be best for everyone if I ended my father, but if it came out, it’d come to haunt not only me, but my wife and all my family.
The beat picked up and I turned my attention to the dance floor to find Wynter whirling, still dancing with Sasha.
“I don’t think that’s the first time those two have danced to that song,” Dante said as he shifted back on his heel, his hands in his pockets.
Wynter and Sasha started lip-synching to Jaymes Young “Don’t You Know” both smiling, like this was their own goddamn wedding. I left my cousins and sister standing there and headed for Sasha and my wife.
Sasha’s eyes darted to me and they darkened a bit. The cold, calculating bastard that he was, he drawled, “You know I love you, Wyn.”
“Love you too, Sasha.”
Burning fury burned through me and it took all my willpower not to pull out my gun and shoot the motherfucker. It simmered under my skin, making me want to lash out at all of the Nikolaev men.
“Sasha, let Wynter dance with her husband,” Vasili, his brother, said, his tone cold and annoying, heavy with their Russian accent. Brennan insisted they be invited and now I regretted it. I’d much rather kill them.
“Only if she wants to,” Sasha retorted, eyeing me like he was ready for a fight.
I shifted forward but Wynter dropped his hand immediately, while Vasili grabbed his younger brother and tugged him along to his table, hissing something in their heathen language.
I quickly took Wynter’s hand and made her dance the rest of the song with me.
“You really have to calm down,” she remarked with a heavy sigh.
“Then stop dancing with other men,” I warned.
She rolled her eyes. Fucking rolled her eyes at me!
“You used to be more fun,” she muttered and then as if she realized she slipped, her eyes snapped to mine.
A lazy smile curved on my lips. “The last time we danced I had to beat up another man for touching what was mine. Maybe I need to up my game,” I drawled.
“Don’t hurt Sasha,” she warned, and it fucking annoyed me she would care whether he was hurt or not.
“Time to throw the garter!” Dante shouted and both of us turned our heads to find Juliette glaring at Dante.
My cousin grinned at her, like he was ready to devour her.
He’d had a fascination with her ever since she kneed him in the balls.
You’d think it would have the opposite effect, considering how much that shit hurt.
But no, my unhinged cousin took it as his own personal challenge.
The crowd circled us and someone brought over a chair. I sat her down, then hunched down and cocked my eyebrow at my wife. She sat there, her eyes frozen above my head, and her hands clutching her dress so hard, her knuckles turned white.
I followed her gaze and found it on my father. Where in the fuck had he come from? My eyes found Priest and Dante, the two nodded and surrounded him. To my surprise so did Sasha who looked ready to pounce on him.
And all the while, my father was grinning and his eyes were locked on my wife.
“When will we see bloodied sheets?” my father exclaimed and Wynter flinched, then narrowed her eyes on him. Sasha growled and Brennan reached for his gun. Wynter’s mother paled and my uncle, of all people, found himself next to her and shielding her body with his.
“You haven’t heard,” Wynter said, tilting her chin up and giving him a proud smile.
My father couldn’t see Wynter’s hands curled into a fist on her white dress because I hindered his view.
“He popped that cherry a while back.” Someone started choking behind us, but I didn’t turn to see who, keeping my gaze locked on my father.
“The only blood you’ll see tonight might belong to a DiLustro. ”
Atta woman, I thought proudly.
A deadly quiet filled the chilled air and guests stilled, every man shielding their own family with their hands on their guns.
The tension was louder than an explosion, and the anger burned my chest. My fingers twitched with the need to pull out my gun and shoot the motherfucker, consequences be damned.
The only thing that stopped me was Wynter. I felt her tremble under my touch and I didn’t want to cause her more distress.
My uncle nodded at Brennan, then moved towards his older brother. I followed the two of them, my uncle ushering my father into the house, and I didn’t turn my back to them until my father disappeared from view.
Wynter watched them too and the look in her eyes was haunting. It tore at my black heart.
“Principessa,” I murmured softly and her eyes lowered to me. Slowly the tension in her shoulders eased, but the anguish still lingered in those green depths. That talk she promised me had to happen. Pronto . “Just watch me ,” I told her and she nodded.
I cupped her calves, her skin soft and warm under my rough palms. She went to lift her gown but I stopped her. “I’ll find it,” I rasped.
Gently, I slipped off her heel and our first date flickered to the forefront. When our eyes met, I knew she thought of it too. That day in Emilia’s shop. The first kill I did for her; it wasn’t the last.
I slid my palms up slowly until I reached her thighs.
I could feel goosebumps on her skin, a little tremor rolling down her body.
But she held my gaze, as if she found strength in it.
I reached higher and higher, until my fingers brushed her garter on her right leg.
I lifted her dress, just enough to put my head underneath it, my face against her soft skin.
Kissing the skin right above her knee, I closed my teeth around the garter and dragged it down her leg until it fell on the floor. She lifted her foot and I grabbed the ruffled piece of fabric. Then I slid her heel back on.
“Just like Prince Charming,” I heard her murmur softly. “Villain charming.”
“But always yours.”
I stood up with the garter and helped her up onto her feet, then wrapped my arm protectively around her.
“Who wants to get married next?” I shouted.
Men gathered around and Wynter’s laugh pulled my attention away. Her eyes shone and I followed her gaze to find them on Sasha who was taking a step back.
“You know you want it, Sasha,” she teased mischievously.
The latter rolled his eyes and took another step back, just for good measure.
Wrapping my arm around my wife, I raised my free arm and threw the garter at the crowd of single men. It didn’t surprise me to see Dante diving for it, then putting it between his teeth to turn and stare at Juliette.
She flipped him off then turned her back to him.
The crowd disbursed and Wynter got distracted by her friends and Emory.
I strode towards my two cousins and once we were out of everyone’s earshot, I asked, “How in the fuck did he get in?”
Priest’s face was grim. Dante’s wasn’t any better. “Father is getting him under control.”
I kept my face neutral, aware of gazes thrown our way, even if my blood boiled with fury.
It was the only thing Brennan insisted on.
I didn’t give a shit that my father was the head of the New York Syndicate for as long as he was alive.
I wouldn’t bring the sick bastard around my wife, nor my sister.
“What happened?” I growled in a quiet voice.
“Our dad is taking care of him,” Dante hissed. “Leave it to Gio to show up uninvited. He’ll get him out and stay with him.”
“Thank fuck,” I muttered.
Priest’s eyes kept darting to Wynter and her mother. His mother. I had no fucking idea if Wynter’s mom knew she had a son. She kept her gaze away from my uncle and most of us DiLustros.
Not that I could blame her, considering the DiLustros destroyed her life.
Suddenly, the music was turned up so loud the speakers shook. Everyone’s gazes turned to Wynter and her girlfriends in the corner, their faces bright with animation as they all laughed. Whatever it was, all four of them and Emory laughed so hard, they held their stomachs.
The song “Problem” by Natalia Kills lyrics kept screaming and the girls kept shaking their heads while Juliette kept saying something in her crazy animated way. Wynter reached out and turned down the song.
“It doesn’t say anything about bending ass,” Emory snorted, her cheeks actually flushing.
Ivy shrugged. “Well, we’ve been singing it with bending ass so we’re sticking to it.”
Wynter’s silvery laugh traveled through the air. “You and Juliette have been singing it the perverted way.”
Juliette flipped off her friends, turned the music back up, then hopped on the table and started to shake her ass to the song still blasting through the speakers. Emory laughed hard and I was happy to see her getting along with the girls. It was something she never had before.
“I heard you were stupid enough to ask Brennan to marry Juliette?” Priest asked in a bored tone.
Dante slipped his hands in his pockets, his gaze never wavering from the dark-haired woman that had trouble and unhinged written all over her.
“I gave it a try,” he drawled. “One way or another, I’m gonna have that girl.”
Dante smirked and I could already sense trouble on the horizon. I narrowed my eyes on him. “Just don’t fuck it up, Dante.”
Dante rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Not to worry,” he assured me, though somehow it set me on edge. “I will be the perfect gentleman.”
“Even when she kicks you in the nuts again?” Priest asked on a snicker.
“I hope the red-haired one cuts your balls off,” Dante drawls, dragging his eyes away from Juliette.
The music was lowered and the Nikolaev men laughed at whatever Wynter said. My wife found a way to have little Kostya in her arms again and was kissing his little hands.
“Jesus, she’s really good with little ones,” Dante muttered, watching her help little Kostya push on Sasha. The big brute pretended to fall over and Kostya giggled loud, flapping his hands and legs. Then Wynter did it again and Sasha pretended to stumble backwards.
I loved and hated how at ease she was with the Nikolaev family. It was my jealousy, I knew it. Before she’d tell me she loved me. Those words no longer slipped past her lips.
Forcing my face to stay calm as I watched them all, my wife’s eyes darted around, as if searching for someone.