36. Matteo
Matteo
The hotel’s chapel looks like it was ripped out of a billionaire’s wedding magazine. Warm golden lights illuminate the chapel, florists arranged flowers in perfect symmetrical arcs, and the air carries the scent of roses and money.
I’m standing on the groom’s side of the altar, about to get married.
Married.
What. The. Fuck?
My pulse pounds in my throat and my palms sweat, but no matter how much my brain screams at me to do something—anything—to stop the insanity, my feet stay rooted to the floor.
Not even when Azra tried to persuade Antonio to elope did they budge. She told him that her father’s rules don’t apply to him because the same laws that Antonio and I must follow don’t govern the Turkish mafia.
When that didn’t work, with Antonio too much of a one-pump wonder to realize I walked out seconds after the apparent penetration, she begged her father to reconsider.
She used every trick she knew on the situation.
None of them were successful.
I could have walked solely from the disrespect she directed at me, and no one would have batted an eye, but I didn’t, because the truth is, I don’t want to walk.
I want this.
I want her.
If I can’t have her without tying her name to mine for eternity, fuck it. I’ll do that.
Nico leans in from my left and whispers out of the corner of his mouth, “Want me to blast an escape hatch through the chapel wall? Elio’s been itching to test a new drone explosive system.
” He nudges his head toward the front row of pews.
My family has taken the seats the Adamis once filled.
Papa, Giovanni, Dante, Elio, and their respective partners are all here, patiently waiting for Azra to show up.
“I’m sure Giovanni will happily fill the position.
He’s been dying to get Valentina down the aisle before bub is born, and in all honesty, I reckon Dante would fight him for it.
We could have some free afternoon entertainment. ”
I snort under my breath. I’m always up for free entertainment, but since I’m confident I am about to undertake the most thrilling ride of my life, I deny his offer. “I’m okay.”
With his mouth agape, Nico studies me. “You want to do this.”
He’s not asking a question. He is stating a fact.
My throat feels scratchy. “Yeah.”
He balks, then slowly nods. “Aren’t you worried?”
“About?”
“Being stuck in a loveless situation when the hype dies down? It’s the same pussy for life, Teo, and although I’m sure you’re hard as fuck now from the serving she gave you in the priest’s office, once that settles, aren’t you worried the spark will die with it?”
He’s projecting. I’m certain of this, but I play along. “I don’t ever see it dying down.”
Nico arches a brow. “You’re that confident?”
“Fireworks this white-hot don’t simmer,” I say with utmost certainty. “Thought you’d know that better than anyone.”
I call him a wuss under my breath when he twists his lips and murmurs, “What do you mean?”
I reposition myself to face him before nudging my head toward Azra’s family’s side of the chapel. “Shall I say her name or point her out? Or maybe I could ask the priest to make this a double feature.”
He goes white at the gills. “What the fuck, man? Don’t be stupid. It ain’t like that.” His words whistle out of his mouth. “She’d probably turn me down anyway.”
“Because she blames the tension between you for what happened to her sister.” His eyes shoot to mine. “Once she realizes it was neither of your faults, I’m sure she’ll happily suck your schlong without attempting to dissect it between gags.”
Before he can respond, the music shifts and everyone stands.
The ruckus in my veins clears away when Azra presents at the entrance of the chapel. She changed out of the puffy white dress that swallowed her sexy curves in a mountain of tulle. She’s now wearing a silk gown that clings to her with understated elegance and beauty.
It’s the slip a bride would usually wear under her dress. It’s sexy as fuck and adds to the throbs thickening my dick as her eyes lock on mine and narrow.
She’s pissed, and it confirms what I’ve known since the day my eyes landed on her.
I like my woman feisty.
As she floats down the aisle, minus the accompaniment of her father, the fabric of her slip catches the light. Her onyx hair cascades down her shoulders in soft waves, and her headpiece is as delicate and thin as her silk negligee.
She’s a walking wet dream, and the remembrance clears away all my nerves in an instant.
Though she tries to hide it, her breath hitches when she spots the changes I made to the aisle.
While she tried to convince her father that an alliance with the Adamis would be more beneficial than with the most powerful Cosa Nostra family in the country, Vivienne and my brothers’ partners transformed the space.
They simplified the flowers, added numerous candles, and removed the bows that should have been left in the ’80s.
The space feels more intimate now.
More like Azra.
She tries to pretend she loathes how much the space suits her. She’s a terrible liar. The harshness in her eyes softens, and her tight shoulders loosen.
When she reaches my side, she doesn’t look at me. I don’t need her eyes on me to feel every part of her. I sense the tremors of her anger and the shards of betrayal breaking away from her. But I also feel one step closer to seeing my mother for one last time.
That’s how right this feels.
The priest begins the ceremony. His voice echoes through the chapel, but I don’t pay him an ounce of attention. My focus is rapt on how my dick throbs more with each dagger Azra throws at me. She wants me to know she hates this—that she hates me.
I accept every ounce of her fury.
Even the wordless threats she throws out during our vows.
You’re going to pay for lying.
To death do us part will be sooner than you think.
I will make your life a living hell.
I should be worried. I’m not.
If anything, it buries me even deeper and makes me hard enough to drill the Antarctic.
Her anger means she feels something, and feeling something will always triumph over feeling nothing.