“You told me you’d do anything for me.”
Dad cupped my face with both hands, his eyes blazing with fierceness. “Not that.”
I shook my head in his hold. “I belong here. I’m talking about war. Please, don’t let there be war because of me. Please do this for me. We need peace.”
“Still too kind for this world. I thought you’d changed but I see you haven’t.” He kissed my forehead, sounding relieved but at same time resigned.
I peered up at him through my lashes. But I had changed, hadn’t I? I could feel it deep in my belly. How could one person change who you were? Amo had changed everything, my every desire, my perception of what made my life full. But I was a Falcone. I’d go on despite the pain.
“What about peace?”
Dad kissed my forehead again then he stood, his expression hard. “That depends on Luca. We’re ready for war if he wants it.”
With every step Cressida took closer to me, I knew she wasn’t the woman I wanted to marry. With every intake of breath, I knew I loved the woman sitting somewhere in this church. And with every furious beat of my condemned heart, I knew I could never be with the woman I loved.
I didn’t search the guests for Greta. We hadn’t spoken since I’d left Las Vegas with new scars. One of many on my body and the first one on my cold heart.
Who would have thought a woman would break my unbreakable heart?
Cressida arrived at my side, smiling as if she’d won the lottery, and I supposed she had. She was ambitious and as my wife she’d be at the top of the food chain.
I caught Marcella’s gaze in the first row. She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. I sent her a wry smile, remembering when I’d told her many years ago that I wouldn’t marry for love, that I’d have an arranged marriage and marry for the good of the Famiglia. Today those words became reality.
Today would mark a turning point in many ways.
But back then I’d thought love was a loser’s game and I’d be immune to it. That a Falcone would change it was almost comical.
That the Falcones were present today to celebrate the biggest wedding of the Famiglia was a fucking miracle in itself. It had taken considerable effort to make it happen. But if one thing was Remo’s greatest weakness then it was his hubris. He thought himself invincible. His arrogance trumped even my own.
That I married Cressida would guarantee that the Traditionalists would get their fill. They had our backs, ready to follow us on whatever crusade we planned. Maybe if Marcella had married in a traditional fashion, I would have had more freedom to be with Greta. But even then…The Falcones would have never let her go and even if I’d ripped her away, Greta would have always belonged to them. She had chosen her family and I had chosen mine. Love wasn’t written in my stars. Our world hardly left room for this kind of weakness. And that’s what it was.
I would never again show weakness.
Cressida cleared her throat, giving me an expectant look. I realized we’d arrived at the part of the ceremony where we were supposed to exchange vows and rings.
My heart had been half dead before I’d met Greta. With all the shit I’d lived through since Marcella had been kidnapped and all the horrors I’d witnessed and committed that was the natural course of things.
With her it had felt like the black piece of stone in my chest could actually be revived but today whatever good had remained inside of me shriveled and died. “I do.” The word tasted false and for the briefest moment I allowed myself to search for Greta in the crowd. But I didn’t have to search. My gaze was drawn to her as if a magnetic pull connected us, and one look in her kind doe eyes and my heartbeat stilled only to speed up.
I tore my eyes away, hoping nobody had noticed my moment of weakness. Today wasn’t time for it.
When I pushed the ring on Cressida’s finger, I felt nothing. I didn’t smile, only met her gaze. She was beaming up at me like the happy bride everyone expected her to be, but her eyes didn’t reflect true happiness. If anything, they held triumph. Today marked her victory over me. I’d tried to bring her down for insulting Marcella, and Cressida had turned the tables.
“Kiss me,” she hissed barely moving her lips, still maintaining the fake smile.
I bent down and pressed my lips against hers, not bothering to soften my mouth or to prolong this public display of affection. Applause rang out and I straightened, ignoring the furious glint in Cressida’s eyes. I’d told her what she’d get if we married. Love wasn’t part of the deal. If she thought, she could hold the reins in this marriage, she’d get a very nasty surprise.