20. A Public Claim
A Public Claim
Santino stopped me as we stepped through the chapel doors. He turned to me, letting go of my hand and adjusting my veil and train so they flowed elegantly behind me.
“I had a bridesmaid for that,” I hissed, determined to keep the bite in my voice throughout this whole circus.
“I know,” he said, almost apologetically. “She’ll be here soon. We won’t start without her.”
My eyes widened. “What? What do you mean? How is she coming here? You better not have hurt her!”
He rolled his eyes, grabbed my hand again, and walked us into the chapel. The ability to speak disappeared the moment I took in the exquisite interior. I’d always loved this church, but only the extremely wealthy or famous got married here.
The entire aisle was decorated with pillar candles in large lanterns, and more candles hung from the ceiling. Petals of every shade were scattered down the aisle, and gigantic bouquets of flowers stood in tall glass vases at the end of each pew.
Santino’s finger brushed under my chin, forcing my mouth shut as he smirked at my reaction. “Try to smile and not look so shocked, or my family might think I kidnapped you or something.”
I glared at him, then my gaze fell on the faces at the front of the church.
Shit. His family. I thought he was joking about them being there.
There was a man standing on the platform at the end of the aisle who looked like an older version of Santino.
Then I spotted someone I recognised for a different reason.
The bearded, tattooed biker from earlier was sitting in the front row.
He’d removed his helmet and was wearing a suit jacket over his T-shirt, but it was definitely him.
The others at the front were women. They were all stunning, wearing elegant outfits and smiling at me as if I were the holy grail.
My eyes swerved to the stoic and emotionless faces of more men, all dressed in black suits, sitting behind them.
The chapel doors burst open with a flurry of activity and yelling as Allegra hit and wrestled a younger man who also bore a striking resemblance to Santino. He glared at Santino as if he wanted to kill him where he stood.
“Worst. Job. Ever. Now you owe me, dickhead.”
Santino chuckled, rubbing his jaw as I cried, “Ally!”
She paused when she heard my voice. Her hand was attached to a metal handcuff, which was smashed against the boy’s face as she tried to push him away. The other handcuff was attached to his wrist.
“Aria! Oh, thank God! You’re alive! At first, I thought you’d run away from the wedding without me, so I went looking for you, but then this…
” She glared at the boy. “…wannabe man-child abducted me! He said we were going to your wedding and that he was my date! I tried to tell him that one, I was already at your wedding, and two, never in my life would I date someone who was in nappies when I graduated from high school!”
“That was just a warm-up wedding,” Santino said, barely concealing his amusement as the teenager and Ally kept shoving at each other. “This is the real thing. Raff, you cuffed her to you? Really?”
“Look at her! She’s scrappy!” he chuckled, flicking her hair to rile her more. “You said I couldn’t drug her. She nearly scratched my eyes out and kept trying to run, so I had to do something.”
“He threw my phone out of the car window! Is he even legally allowed to drive?” she yelled, then remembered what we were all there for. “Wait. You’re marrying him now? You’ve changed your mind? But I thought—”
“She came to her senses,” Santino cut in before I could answer. I glared up at him, and he smiled. “So, shall we?”
I exhaled a deep breath that made my shoulders sag, mouthing ‘I’m okay’ to Allegra as she was dragged past me and down the aisle to sit with the other guests.
“That’s Raffaele, my nephew. I wanted you to have someone here who means a lot to you, but I didn’t want to scare Allegra by sending one of my men. He was the best option.”
I glanced at the older, intimidating version of Santino and the bearded biker and understood. But if he thought I’d thank him for it, he’d grossly overestimated my manners.
“The not-so-good-looking version of me with greying hair is my brother, Giovanni.”
Giovanni Buccini. Holy shit. The nerves ramped up. I was about to marry a mobster in front of his family. Were they all in on this? Did they know I was being forced into this marriage against my will? Of course they bloody did. They were criminals. Like they cared.
“And that hairy fucker is Maximus, my cousin. And his wife, Camilla. And the four ladies on the other side are the most important women in my life, besides you. My brother’s wife, Olivia; my sister, Soraya; my niece, Liliana; and my mamma, Cecilia.
My older sister, Elenora, couldn’t make it.
She had a gallery opening, and she’s pissed as shit at me for springing this on her so late that she couldn’t get out of it.
That’s your fault. But she’ll forgive you. ”
The room was swaying. I barely registered any of those names. It all felt too surreal. How casually he was briefing me on his family, as if I weren’t standing in a wedding gown at the end of the aisle while they all sized me up for the first time.
"And all those men?" I choked as my gaze bounced around the most intimidating faces I'd ever seen.
His lips turned up at the sides. "Employees and colleagues."
AKA more criminals.
I closed my eyes tight and pinched my arm.
Wake up. This would be a great time to wake up.
An elegant melody glided towards us, and I opened my eyes to find we were still in the same place. With an encouraging tug on my hand, Santino guided me down the aisle, clearly worried I would bolt if he left me to do it myself.
My cheeks flamed crimson with all ?eyes on me. I was very thankful for my veil at that moment, hiding me from sight. I felt protected under it, but as soon as we reached the priest, Santino lifted it over my head.
I stared up at his face, seeing him clearly for the first time today, not through sheer netting, and struggled to find my next breath. He looked outrageously handsome in his tuxedo. I could almost forget that he’d just threatened to kill my fiancé to get me here only an hour ago.
Cristo. Callum. And my papi. Would they think I got cold feet and ran away, or that Santino came for me? Shit. That was a whole other situation to deal with. One nightmare at a time.
The priest began speaking in Italian, welcoming the guests as Santino’s dark gaze travelled down my neck. He frowned.
“Where’s your locket?” he asked, his booming voice echoing off the stone arches as he interrupted the priest without giving a shit.
“What?”
“Your mamma’s locket? Why aren’t you wearing it?”
My fingers instinctively shot up to the diamond necklace that Callum had given me as a present this morning, and my lips parted. There was only concern in his eyes, and it made something inside me melt a little that he knew enough to care.
“Callum gave me—”
“Take it off,” he ordered, his voice lethal.
He held his palm up between us and waited, challenging me to disobey his command.
I slowly reached up and unclasped it, my gaze shifting to his family, who were all watching with confusion, and placed it in his hand.
He threw it over his shoulder as if it were a piece of rubbish and not a necklace worth thousands of euros. “Where’s your locket?”
I grabbed the tulle of my skirt at my thigh and bunched it, lifting the hem of the dress up one of my legs. I wanted my mum close to me today, so I had to wear it somewhere. His gaze ran down my shin with predatory hunger, making me want to break out in a sweat.
Cristo. Not in church. And not for this man. Come on, body, get with the new programme.
But when he dropped to one knee and tenderly unfastened the necklace from my ankle as if it were the most precious treasure known to man, all logic went out the window. There was only reluctant swooning, especially when he placed a soft kiss on my knee before lowering the dress again.
My cheeks burned as he gestured for me to turn around, then placed the locket around my neck where it belonged.
I tried to hold back the sudden rush of overwhelming emotions I’d kept bottled up all day.
When I turned back to face him, I quietly mumbled a thank you, but I couldn’t look at him.
I didn’t want to feel anything other than hatred or anger towards this man.
“Shall I continue?” the priest asked, glancing between us.
“Wait. One more thing,” he said, grabbing my left hand and rolling his thumb over Callum’s engagement ring. He growled, then tugged it off my finger, making me yelp. I peered up at him in shock.
He threw that damn thing over his shoulder, too.
Someone in the audience laughed. I was sure it was Raffaele.
“Raya? Did you get it?”
My head whipped around to see who he was addressing.
A pretty woman, probably around my age, stood up, nodding.
She stepped forward with her eyes cast down and handed Santino a velvet box.
He opened it and picked out the most stunning ring I’d ever seen.
It was an elegant, oval diamond on a thin gold band.
I had no idea how many carats it was, but I knew it looked heavy.
He slid it onto my finger as my mouth hung open, staring at it in awe.
Oh no, I loved it. It was so much more me.
“Much better,” he husked, rolling his thumb over my fingers again. “Please continue, Father. I promise to behave.”
My gaze met his, and he smirked. The dark twinkle in his eyes told me everything I needed to know. This man never behaved. That I was standing at the altar wearing his ring proved it. And now I was about to become his wife.
The ceremony passed in a blur of Italian Bible readings and Catholic vows. Then the priest asked the questions I’d been dreading.
"Are you here to enter into a marriage freely and without coercion?"