Chapter 37
Rico
“You know,” Pietro clears his throat as we stand in front of Father Pezzi waiting for my soon to be wife to emerge from our bedroom, “we could hear everything. Poor Father’s ears over here were burning red.”
“Impossible.” I toy with my watch. “The rooms are sound proof.”
He snickers. “If the door is fucking closed.“
Uncharacteristically of me I had forgotten. I shrug, unashamed. “Then I suppose you know she agreed to be my wife.”
“Among other things.” His grin is devious. “Like how tight—”
“That’s enough,” I warn him sharply. He raises both his hands in the air as a sign of surrender but still wears a shit eating grin. The bastard.
“I still can’t believe you’re doing this. That I’m even part of it,” he says nervously.
“Constantine will not kill us.”
He blows out a shaky breath. “I’m glad you’re so confident because I don’t believe he’ll be as merciful as you think.”
“You’d be surprised,” I murmur.
Under his breath he says a prayer and I sigh at his antics. Whatever helps ease his mind.
Truthfully I thought marriage was never on the cards for me. I never thought I could be with someone who would want to spend the rest of their days with me and I in return. Marriage seemed impossible. Until her. My beautiful missing piece.
My eyes catch the first glimpse of her as she exits our bedroom.
She’s ethereal.
Too beautiful to be real.
My breath catches. The organ in my chest pounds violently against my ribs. My skin itches to close the distance between us.
Pietro whistles lowly as she steps in the living area. I elbow him in the gut and he doubles over wheezing. “What the fuck man,” he groans in pain.
“Don’t whistle at my wife.”
“She isn’t your wife yet,” he argues on a technicality.
The primal beast inside of me still doesn’t like it. “Don’t ogle her or I’ll have your eyes served for breakfast.”
“Okay, ogre.” He rolls his eyes but when I give him a cold leveled stare the white flags of surrender wave around him.
I return my eyes back to her. The woman who has captured my heart and ensnared my soul. Despite how we’ve defiled each other she looks as innocent as can be in her pearl white halter form fitting satin dress.
No longer able to stand the distance between us I stride towards her with purpose. She smiles shyly at me as I take both of her hands in mine.
“You are divine,” I breathe.
Her eyes sparkle. “You’re beautiful, too.” I’ve never been called beautiful before. And while I want to reject the compliment because I don’t see anything about me that qualifies as beautiful I keep my mouth shut. Because it’s clear for anyone to see that in her eyes I am.
I lead her over to Pietro and Father Pezzi. His white clerical collar seems to be strangling him as he smiles at the both of us tightly. Pietro smothers a laugh with his hand.
Clearing his throat he begins with trepidation, “We are here today for the Holy Union of Matrimony between Rico Maroni and Imogen Murphy.”
Father Pezzi becomes background noise. The woman I love standing before me becomes the focal point and floods every one of my senses.
“I can’t wait to fuck you as my wife.” The thought pours from my lips before I can stop it.
A beautiful blush paints her skin. “Rico,” she admonishes.
I hear the Priest cough uncomfortably but I’m too unabashed to care.
He continues to drone on through the testament of marriage. Reading verses from the Bible I have never and will never believe in.
I feel Pietro slightly nudge me on the shoulder as he tips his head towards the Priest, telling me to listen.
Father Pezzi eyes me cautiously, clearing his throat and repeats the vows, “Rico, have you come here to enter marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?”
“I have,” I say.
“Do you promise to love Imogen in sickness and in health? For as long as you shall live?”
“I do.” No truer words have ever been spoken by me.
As he addresses Imogen he’s warmer and gentler. “Imogen, have you come here to enter marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly.”
“I have.”
“Do you promise to love Rico in sickness and in health? For as long as you shall live?”
Without hesitation she vows, “I do.”
“At this point I would ask for the rings but it seems as if we have this step already covered.” His smile is strained at best. “You may now kiss the bride.”
I wrap my arm around her and pull her flush against me. Her hand with her wedding ring rests over my heart. She meets me halfway as I bend down slightly to kiss her senseless.
This is a kiss I’ll remember until the day I die. How her hand curls around the material of my shirt to pull me closer. The way her body feels like clay against mine. Her lips, soft and pliable, open for me with the anticipation for more.
As I break the kiss the feel of her lips linger. Her eyes remained closed but her face is aglow.
And I think to myself how can one person be this stunning? And how has she ever allowed herself to be mine.
“Why are you more nervous than my wife?” I ask Pietro mildly as we await Constantine and Carina in their home.
Only three people are allowed security access. Myself, Pietro and Gino. Constantine even has an office for me here but I prefer my one at home. The lighting here can be quite nauseating and sound travels too much for my liking.
Imogen, my beautiful brilliant wife, is tucked by my side. Before we left I advised her to change. As upset as she was I wasn’t the one undressing her to experience a night filled with carnal passion she conceded. She’s still just as gorgeous in her athleisure attire as she is in a gown.
I run my knuckle along the apple of her cheek. She smiles brilliantly at me.
“Carina could show leniency towards her but certainly not for us.” He shifts back and forth on his feet.
“Because I’m a woman?” Imogen asks curiously.
“No,” I tell her. “Because in certain ways she sees herself in you. She’s always perceived you as innocent and that has not changed. But if you ever betray me. . .”
“Then I’m as good as dead.”
“Si.”
Pressing up on her toes she plants a kiss on the underside of my jaw. “I’ll never betray you.”
“And I you,” I promise.
“Awe, aren’t you two just cute. Have you forgotten we could be facing death for betraying our Don and Donna?” He whisper yells.
I don’t respond. I know nothing I say will settle his nerves. In fact I may just send him to a nervous breakdown by saying the wrong thing.
The click of heels across the marbled floors alerts me they’re close. One never accompanies without the other. They’re glued at the hip. And now I understand why.
Pietro stands ramrod straight. Imogen presses into me tighter and I reassuringly rub her arm.
Constantine and Carina come hand in hand. The most powerful couple of the Italian Mafia. Rulers of the criminal underworld. Their faces are unreadable. I try to decipher any hidden meaning from their blank expressions but I come up with a loss.
A chill resides in the air. Tension lies heavy and thick. Carina’s eyes make a perusal of Imogen and I. They scrutinize every detail. And they zero in on the ring upon her finger. Constantine however has kept his eyes on me.
“Rico,” he addresses me coolly.
“Don Constantine,” I acknowledge him with a nod of my head.
“Pietro.” His voice has dropped to a colder degree.
“Don Constantine,” he breathes and lays the same respect with a nod of his head.
He cocks his head to the side. A curl on his lip.
“You have the audacity to come into our home after you have done and betrayed me,” he sneers.
His eyes flick to Imogen’s ring and her hand forms into a white knuckle clenched fist. My little warrior is awakening.
He draws the gun from his inner holster and points it at my head. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now?”
I’m about to offer my response when the unthinkable happens. Imogen’s hand snakes inside my inner suit jacket and she takes hold of my own gun. Knowing weaponry herself she disengages the safety, poises her finger on the trigger and points the gun at Carina’s head.
Her voice is dark and malevolent as she threatens him, “You kill who is most precious to me and I will kill who is most precious to you.”
Constantine’s eyes blaze with fury. His anger is palpable. Pietro begins to pray under his breath. “Did you just threaten to kill my wife?”
“Did you just threaten to kill my husband?”
And while I am bursting with pride for her not only her fierceness and bravery but also her possessiveness of me I am heavily worried for her life. If she had pointed the gun at him it would be entirely different. But she pointed at her. His world. His entire reason for existing.
“You will lower your husband’s gun or I will gladly take action by blowing your hand off,” he seethes.
Her aim stays steady and true. Not once does her arm shake under fear. “You lower yours first.”
He scoffs. “Who the fuck do you think you are to make demands? Least of all to me?”
She proudly states, “I’m Imogen fucking Maroni. We had come here in peace. But if you are unwilling to listen and are unwilling to see the honesty and good intentions of my husband for not only me but also your Famiglia then I will not hesitate.”
“You’re brave, Imogen,” he comments with a sinister smile. “Seamus’ stubbornness runs in your blood.”
“And so does my love for Rico.”
A standstill happens between them. If I didn’t know any better I would believe we have travelled back in time to old westerns.
Carina’s hand comes to wrap around Constantine’s lip. There’s a knowing grin on her lips as she regards Imogen with impressed eyes. “Lower your gun, Constantine.”
He keeps his gun on me but gives his attention to her. “Why on earth would I do that?”
“Because her love for him is true.”
“And what if this isn’t all just a ruse on her part?” He argues. “What then?”