Chapter 9 Sora
SORA
Heart in my throat, I keep my eyes locked on Leo as I make my way toward him one step at a time.
I find it ironic that he is who I set my sights on to keep my shaking knees from giving out on me during the agonizingly long walk.
He’s given me no reason to think this walk down the aisle will end in anything but misery.
Still, the day of my wedding arrived, and now, it’s all I can do to tell myself that once I reach him, the hardest part will be over.
I never realized my wedding day could be so terrifying. But with all eyes on me, I can’t screw this up.
The fate of my family rides on me. Me and the unreasonably handsome man waiting for me at the end of the aisle.
Dressed in a black tux and white shirt, with his hair perfectly styled, his strong jaw clean-shaven and his shoulders broad as he stands with impeccable posture, he’s the vision of a dark prince ready to devour my very soul.
Heat climbs up my neck when I think about what happened last night in my dreams.
I couldn’t stop imagining his hands on me, picturing the ways he might choose to claim me.
And in the broad light of day, it’s become my dirty little secret. His piercing gaze makes me feel like he already knows—knows that I want him even though I shouldn’t.
My heart hammers with each slow step I take toward him.
I don’t dare look away, though I can hear the hushed whispers of the crowd as I pass, the murmurs of how beautiful I look, how perfect this day is.
Then I’m taking the last few steps to reach Leo, and as my father passes my hands to him, I get a closer look at my groom.
He looks exhausted—hung over, even—his eyes bloodshot and a slight pallor beneath his olive skin.
Still, he’s the most attractive man I’ve ever laid eyes on, his gaze glinting in the sunlight, his dark hair perfectly styled to suit the tux that he wears better than a model ever could.
Even in a waistcoat, he looks tall and muscular, filling it out in all the right places, and at the same time, lean enough to look like an athlete.
“Welcome, family and friends of the bride and groom,” the officiant starts. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two great families through the marriage of Sora Tanaka and Leonardo Chiaroscuro…”
As his voice carries across the open space, instructing our guests to be seated, Leo’s large hands clasp mine firmly, offering me a stability I desperately need.
He pulls me a step closer, and my heart skips a beat—because getting too close to Leo is dangerous, especially when I need to keep my head on straight.
But the veil seems to help keep me in my own bubble.
“I’m surprised you made it,” he murmurs, barely moving his lips so our guests won’t see, though the corners of his mouth curve up into a charming grin.
“Speak for yourself,” I whisper back, quiet enough that only he can hear me. “You look like you went twelve rounds with a bottle of Yamazaki last night and lost.”
A genuine grin breaks across Leo’s face now, turning my insides to Jell-O. “Close. It was my brother Gio’s world-famous gin martinis. They sneak up on you.”
The effort it takes to bite back my snort is monumental, and I press my lips together to hold it in just in time.
I hadn’t realized how badly I need a bit of levity right now, but his willingness to joke at his own expense might just get me through this ceremony.
“I thought we were supposed to be calling it an early night to get proper rest.”
“And I thought you might know better than to show up after sleeping on it.”
Even the mention of my sleep last night has my cheeks flaming, and I fall silent as I suddenly find the hot summer afternoon air stifling.
It would seem the other Leo is back—the one who’s ready to make my life a living hell—and I wonder what happened to the Leo who said he wants me.
After the officiant finishes his opening, he transitions straight into reading verses from the bible, allowing me to give him half my attention as I focus on breathing.
Thankfully, this wedding didn’t require much personalization, seeing as I’ve only spoken to Leo a handful of times before today, so the officiant will say what he needs to say, tell us which words we need to repeat, and once the rings are on our fingers, it will be done.
Then we can escape to a quiet room to finish signing the contract—in blood.
Another tradition I’m really not looking forward to.
One that seems rather ironic, considering this wedding is to ensure that we stop spilling our families’ blood.
I’m so deeply entrenched in my thoughts, I’ve completely lost track of the ceremony, and I jolt when the officiant says my name.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask breathlessly, and a ripple of laughter rushes through the crowd, making my face burn.
“Do you take Leonardo to be your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”
Dear God, I literally missed my only part.
“Oh, yes. I do.”
Another ripple of laughter.
“And do you, Leonardo, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?”
Amusement plays across Leo’s mouth when I look at him, and a dangerous glint in his eye makes my stomach knot.
“I do,” he says, and warmth floods my body.
“A ring is an unbroken circle, with ends that have been joined together,” the officiant continues.
“It represents your union. It is a symbol of infinity and of your infinite love. When you look at these rings on your hands, be reminded of this moment, your commitment, and the love you now feel for each other.” Drawing two delicate bands from his breast pocket, he hands them to us one at a time.
“Now, Leonardo, repeat after me as you place this ring on Sora’s finger.
‘With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love now and forever.’”
My hand is shaking as I hold it out for him, and Leo’s eyes flick up to meet mine as he gently takes my palm to steady it before sliding the ring on my left ring finger with his other hand.
“With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love now and forever,” he says, his deep voice making my heart stutter.
As if the moment weren’t earth-shattering, like it felt to me, the officiant holds Leo’s wedding band out to me. “And, Sora, repeat after me as you place this ring on Leonardo’s finger: ‘With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love now and forever.’”
Even with all his resistance to this wedding—and a night of heavy drinking the night before—Leo’s hand is perfectly steady as he holds it out for me.
As I slide the simple platinum band onto his finger, I’m intensely aware of how strong his hands look, the corded tendons and veins that stand out against his tanned skin.
They’re the hands of a killer, a man who has spent his life holding a gun and wielding a knife against the Tanaka-kai.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I breathe, “With this ring, I thee wed and pledge you my love. Now and forever.”
Someone catcalls from the audience, making Leo smirk, and I wet my suddenly dry lips.
“By the power vested in me by the state of Chicago, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Time stops as Leo reaches for my veil and lifts it from my face, guiding it to fall down the back of my head.
It’s taken all of my self-control to think of anything but this moment since last night, when he had me pressed against that bathroom door.
I ache to know what his lips will feel like, to see how he might kiss me—if it will be a soft peck or a demanding claim.
At the same time, I’m terrified I won’t like it, that he might even do what he can to ensure that I don’t.
Breath trapped in my throat, I gaze into his eyes, silently pleading that we can get through this last hurdle of the ceremony without a hitch.
He steps forward, closing the distance between us, and my body jolts as his warm palm finds the base of my spine.
He pulls me closer, his free hand cupping the back of my neck, and my skin tingles where it meets his.
Then he leans in, slowly, confidently, his gaze shifting from my eyes to my mouth.
For one suspended moment, I can taste the electricity in the air—sharp and searing. Then his lips cover mine, and the world explodes.
Vaguely, in the back of my mind, I can hear our audience cheering, but all I can think about is the shocking softness of his warm lips.
There’s an urgency as he presses them to mine, and as the seconds pass, the fire tearing through my body grows hotter, melting me completely.
His arm tightens around my waist, bringing me closer until my body is flush with his.
My heart slams against my ribs, my weak knees finally buckling as the moment overwhelms me completely, but Leo doesn’t let me fall.
Instead, he dips me back, drawing fresh cheers from the crowd as he keeps our lips locked together.
I couldn’t breathe if I wanted to.
The fireworks exploding through me are sucking up all the oxygen.
It’s all I can do to cling to his shoulders as he bows me backward in a romantic arch.
Then our lips part too soon as he effortlessly sets me back on my feet, keeping his arm around my waist a moment longer to make sure I won’t collapse.
As I suck in a ragged breath, our eyes meet, and the surprise in his almost holds a candle to my shock.
I’ve been dreading our first kiss, sure it would be a catastrophe, but even if that weren’t the first one I’ve ever had, I’m certain it would have blown all the others away.
Leo might be an arrogant jerk.
He might not want to be married to me. But there’s no denying that we have chemistry.
Taking my hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm as the officiant proudly announces the new Mr. and Mrs. Leonardo Chiaroscuro, Leo leads me back down the aisle to raucous applause.
Black-suited, white-gloved staff members give us a double-door entrance back into the great room, and as soon as the doors close behind us, we’re engulfed by echoing silence.
Without a word, my new husband steers me through the room and down a hall into a rustically furnished office with an ornately carved black mahogany desk and leather chairs.
Books fill the shelves along one wall, while ornate gold and hunter green wallpaper covers the others.
A bay window looks out over the side of the estate toward the tree line and Chicago’s downtown city skyline beyond.
The office door opens once again, and Don Augusta strides in, followed closely by the oldest Chiaroscuro brother, Miko.
My family follows closely, my mother on my father’s arm and Kenji taking up the rear.
“That was quite the finale, you two,” Don Augusta says, spreading his arms.
Heat floods my cheeks, and I glance toward my parents, who no doubt thought the display lewd and unnecessary.
“I’m surprised he didn’t take her innocence right there at the altar,” my father mutters to my brother in Japanese. “These Italians are barbaric and entirely uncivilized.”
His eyes cast toward me stonily, and the lava that has been pulsing through my veins since that kiss turns to ice.
“What was that?” the don asks me with a grin, no doubt assuming my father’s words were meant for me.
“O–Only congratulating me on becoming a wife,” I stammer, confident my father won’t want his comment translated in the literal sense when this entire production was intended to end the conflict between us and the don.
Don Augusta nods, then opens the drawer to his desk and pulls out a formal-looking document. “One last detail to solidify our alliance, then,” he says, turning the paper to face me and Leo. He places a fountain pen and a delicate, rather sharp-looking knife next to it.
Stomach flip-flopping anxiously, I study the paper then glance toward Leo, hesitant to go first.
As if sensing my reluctance, and possibly taking pity on me, he steps forward, picks up the pen, and signs his name in a scrawling cursive.
Next, he takes up the knife and presses the sharp tip to the pad of his thumb.
Opening a thin cut, he draws several droplets of blood, smears them across his intact thumb, and presses it to the bottom of the contract, leaving a perfect print behind.
Taking in a shuddering breath, I follow his lead, signing my name before accepting the delicate blade that he’s cleaned.
It feels wrong to cut myself intentionally, and my already racing heart starts to hammer an unsteady beat as I hold the tip to my thumb.
Steeling my nerves, I press down and gasp when the blade sinks quickly, unleashing a small river of blood.
Stomach turning, I smear it across my other thumb and press the print to the thick, quality paper beside my name.
As soon as it’s done, Leo is there, wrapping a handkerchief around my bleeding thumb to staunch the flow.
“Congratulations, Tatsuo,” Don Augusta says, extending his hand to my father. “We’re family now.”
“May it bring a sense of peace and prosperity we have never known,” my father replies.
He gestures to Kenji, who strides to the door, opening it for a manservant who enters with a tray holding a bottle of Aizu Homare and five small sake glasses.
Setting the tray on the desk, the server steps back, and Kenji opens the bottle to pour each of us a glass, then gestures for us to accept them.
“Kanpai,” my father announces, raising his cup once we all have one.
“Kanpai,” we echo, but as I raise the drink to my lips, I catch the look on Kenji’s face from the corner of my eye, and my blood runs cold once again.
It’s finally official—the alliance my father wanted so badly that he would sell me off to an ‘uncivilized barbarian’, as he called Leo.
So why does my brother look like a fox guarding the hen house?