Chapter 3 #2
As soon as the priest announces that Luc and Valentina are husband and wife, applause erupts, and the two of them walk joyfully back down the aisle.
The ceremony was uneventful in terms of threat risk, which is good, and now there will be an enjoyable reception for all the guests to attend.
I hadn’t planned on attending it. I came here only to ensure Valentina’s safety because she wasn’t under my care as intended, and I wanted to tell Luciano that I was unhappy about his last-minute change of plans.
When I found out that Elle was also going to be attending, I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t part of my reason for coming too.
A big, public event like this was a good opportunity to see her in person without getting too close.
“Coming to the afterparty?” Vincent asks as he walks past me on his way out of the church.
“Probably not,” I say, glancing over at the other side of the cathedral where I can see Elle following the crowd of people toward the door.
“You should come,” Isla smiles. “Everyone deserves a break to enjoy themselves once in a while. Besides, I hear it’s going to be extravagant.”
Of course, it is. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Luc and his endless wallet.
I open my mouth to decline, but then, I see a man put his hand on Elle’s shoulder as she walks out the door of the church.
It’s a harmless gesture, especially when people are funneling out of an event through a single exit.
However, no gesture is completely harmless with this crowd of high-profile mafia families.
These people wear ulterior motives on their hands like rings.
“Sure,” I say, before I can think better of it. “Sounds fun.”
Vincent looks shocked that I’ve agreed to attend, and honestly, so am I. The fact that I even attended the wedding ceremony is both uncharacteristic and out of my comfort zone. I don’t know what’s come over me.
“Great, see you there then,” Vincent says as he puts his arm around Isla and walks out with her.
His attempt to feign good relations between us is delicate.
He has nothing against me, but he doesn’t trust me either.
That much is clear. And in truth, he shouldn’t.
I don’t like to hitch my allegiance to anyone but myself.
It would take a lot for me to care about anyone again.
I run my hands through my dark hair as I try to reckon with the failure of better judgment that I just gave in to.
Even though my hair is short, the motion still tousles it, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the church's reflection window. My usual dark, tailored suit stands out against all the bright colors of the stained glass, reinforcing the imposing aura that shadows me everywhere. But even with my dark aesthetic, I’ve never found a way to conceal my blue eyes.
Going to this reception is likely a mistake.
I avoid social situations almost entirely because they can sometimes lead to people wanting to connect emotionally, something that I avoid at all costs.
Emotional connection means caring about someone, and for me, that means being fiercely protective.
The last time I let myself be emotionally invested in anyone, I wound up with the kind of emotional and psychological scars that I will carry with me forever.
Elle isn’t the only one with a traumatic past. Mine may not have been a mother, but losing a brother is just as deep a cut.
The reception is just across the street in an outdoor courtyard lit by countless strands of twinkling lights hanging in the overhead trees.
It’s a mistake for me to be here. But yet, my feet keep walking until I’m inside the crowd of guests, surrounded by music, revelry, and throngs of people mingling together.
At the corner of the courtyard, I see Elle standing alone once again.
I sometimes wonder if she isn’t as emotionally guarded as I am.
It wouldn’t surprise me since past trauma has a way of making a person closed off—for good.
It needs to stay that way, with both of us alone in our own corners of the world and of the city, once we both return to Las Vegas after this wedding is over.
The best thing that she could ever do is to stay away from me, and vice versa. My decisions in the past have gotten people I cared about killed—my inaction has gotten them killed, and that guilt will forever plague me. Now, I find it easier to simply not care about anyone.
So then, why am I here watching her from the corner of the courtyard, surrounded by all the things that I keep a distance from? Perhaps I’m driven by an obsession too—an obsession to find out if she’s as good as her file says she is, or if she’s just another mouthpiece for her corrupt father.
I should disappear, but instead, I get closer.
When her eyes find mine through the crowd, I stare back at her and don’t look away. Honestly, I’m not sure that I could look away even if I wanted to. Keeping Elle safe meant keeping her away from me—until now.