Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“Good. I’d hate for her to embarrass you in front of anyone.”
I clench my jaw.
“What do you even know about her?” she persists.
I’ve had hardly any sleep, and whatever patience I had has long since fled. I have no interest in perpetuating this conversation.
“Get her out of here,” I growl at Cristiano. “Now.”
My mother blinks in surprise. “You order my removal as if I’m some stray animal!”
I ignore her protests. “If you come to the wedding and step one eyelash out of line, I’ll have you escorted to a private jet and taken to Italy. I won’t have you in this house anywhere near her showing disrespect. You’re not welcome here anymore. Attend the wedding, as you’re expected, then plan to leave before the sun rises.”
She opens her mouth, then clamps it shut.
Cristiano offers her his flask. “Shot of whiskey, Aunt Agnesia?”
She curls up her nose in disgust and turns to the door. Cristiano takes her by the elbow, but she slaps his hand and shoves him away. He only chuckles.
I nod to my guard by the door. “Six men on her. If she comes within ten feet of Marialena, have her forcibly removed. Any guard that loses sight of her faces prompt punishment and dismissal from me.”
My men nod with a chorus of yessirs.
Another knock at the door.
I’m in no mood to talk to anyone but today I don’t have that luxury. I’m starting to second-guess my choice not to take a honeymoon.
I turn to see Giuseppe, one of the younger men on my staff who’s more like our secretary than anything. His beard is still scant, his eyes still hopeful and not yet fully jaded like the rest of us. He wants to strike it rich without getting his hands dirty, but he’ll learn soon enough. He’s eager to please, quick to do my bidding, and that’s what matters right now. “Find me a place to go.”
“Go, sir?” he asks.
I finish fastening my cuff links and head to the door. “With my wife.”
“A honeymoon, sir?”
I speak through clenched teeth. Too many eyes watch us here. I need her alone, at least for a little while.
“Yes. Don’t disclose the location to anyone but me. I want someplace with a white sand beach not far from here, but far enough away that I won’t have unwelcome visitors shitting on my parade. You got me? Good food.” I’ll have it vetted. “Privacy. Maybe a boardwalk where my new wife can buy whatever she wants. Gucci or whatever the fuck.” I smirk. “Crystals and shit.”
“On it, sir.”
The other men watch in stony silence. I cast them a quick glance. They’re all dressed impeccably, prepared to be my groomsmen. “We ready?”
“Flowers, sir,” someone mutters. A wide-eyed florist with a box of bloodred rosebud boutonnieres stands in the doorway.
I jerk my head for him to come in. “Let’s get this over with. I take vows in minutes. This should’ve already been done.”
“He got held up,” Giuseppe’s brother Federico mutters. Federico’s been a member of my company for much longer, and he’s the reason why his younger brother’s been recruited.
“Why?” I snap, standing in front of the shaking florist. I scowl. “Get your shit together. Unless you plan on stealing from me or touching my new wife, you got shit to be shaking about, you get me? Pin the fucking flowers on and be done with it.”
“Yessir,” he mutters.
Federico smirks. “Guard at the door thought the pearl-covered pins were a weapon.”
I pull one of the pins out of the box and roll my eyes. “I’d pick my teeth with one of these for Christ’s sake.”
“Saw someone take out an eye with one, once,” one of the guys mutters.
“When, fucking prom night?”
Cristiano slips back into the room.
The men all laugh, but I can’t help but wonder if we’ve taken things too far. Too much caution so now my men are fucking worried about pearl-headed pins?
I don’t often feel nervous, and I’m not even sure the adrenaline that surges through my veins is what one would even call nerves. I’m about to take vows to Marialena. My decision to marry her is one no one can change or even impact in any way.
And this decision will be life changing.
I envy the men that know for years who their wives will be. I even envy those who marry for love, not because of the position they put themselves in—it’s one reason I’d never choose to marry for love myself—but because there’s at least a semblance of autonomy with such a marriage.
This is a forced circumstance due to situations beyond our control. I suppose there’s a certain refuge or even weakness in granting choices to someone else. And even though I orchestrated the marriage part of our arrangement, I consider it even now a mercy.
I want to take these vows.