Now, I latch onto them. I claw my way out of my panic and remember that I’m doing this for my sister.
She’d want me to walk down this aisle with my head held high. She wouldn’t want me to fall apart in front of all of these fucking Messeros. I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing my misery.
The tightness in my throat loosens. “I’m good,” I say to Vince.
When he and I are mere steps away from the altar, I come to a halt.
Everyone in the church quiets, and I can practically sense them salivating. They’re waiting for a sign of weakness, the fucking vultures. But they won’t get one.
I straighten my spine and pull back my shoulders. I let go of my brother’s arm, signaling I’ve got it from here. He gives my arm a squeeze and moves aside.
I take the last few steps toward the altar on my own.
When I’m standing before him, Rafaele reaches over and lifts my veil.
It’s funny how you can hate someone and still find them attractive. Rafaele’s high cheekbones and strong jaw feel like an affront. I don’t want to like a single thing about this horrible man, but I can’t help appreciating the sharp angles of his face, his broad shoulders, and the way his muscular body fills out that bespoke tux.
His jaw clenches. He sweeps his gaze over me, and when he returns to my face, there’s heat in his eyes that burns across my skin.
I look away, disturbed by the intensity. For the first time, I allow myself to face the audience. I find my oldest sister, Vale, standing in the front row beside her husband Damiano De Rossi.
She gives me a broken smile, her eyes swimming with tears. Those aren’t tears of happiness. My heart squeezes.
In the fourth row, I spot Sabina in a gray dress and drab black hat. I guess I’m not the only one who thinks of this wedding as more of a funeral.
A flicker of satisfaction appears in the pit of my belly at the outraged expression on her face. She must have registered that I’m wearing her old mistress’s diamonds. I lift my hand and pretend to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, making sure she also sees the bangles.
Her eyes narrow, and she slowly shakes her head as if in warning.
Does she really think she can scare me?
She’s wrong.
After all, there’s a far bigger monster in this church, and I’m about to marry him.
CHAPTER 9
RAFAELE
The priest is saying something, but I can’t hear a word. My pulse is loud inside my ears, a hard and steady drum, and a vein in Cleo’s neck ticks to the same damn beat.
An image of my teeth marks framing that vein flashes in front of my eyes.
This ceremony will take a half hour. I asked the priest as soon as her silhouette appeared at the end of the aisle. I wanted to know how long I’d have to wait to taste that luscious fucking mouth.
His answer irritated me.
Then I became irritated at my irritation.
I’m a patient man. I’m good at waiting. At biding my time.
A half hour is nothing. And yet it feels too long.
Too. Fucking. Long. Especially when my bride looks like this.
Cleo’s copper curls are pulled back from her face with two small braids. The rest of it cascades down her back. My grandmother’s jewels glitter around her neck and dangle from her ears.
She thinks she chose those diamonds, but really, they chose her. If she didn’t have the body or the character to wear them, they would have looked ridiculous on her. It takes a certain kind of woman to pull off wearing fifty fucking carats.
She does it effortlessly, like she was born to be dripping in diamonds and gold. My Aunt Maria tried to give me an earful about letting Cleo wear the prized family jewels, but I told her that if anyone is worthy of wearing them, it’s my future wife.
Her skin glows in the light streaming through the stained glass of the church. And her lips have never looked more inviting.
The things I want to do to this woman. I can’t fucking wait to exhaust that tight body, to push her to her limits, to make her come until she’s no more than a whimpering puddle on my bed.
A jolt runs through me. Fuck, if I let myself go down that train of thought, I’ll get a boner in front of the entire church. I’m already halfway there just from looking at her.
The priest drones on and on. How much longer? Impatience pulses at my temples.
I’ve seen how she gets under your skin.
If only Nero knew the direction of my thoughts, he’d laugh at me. Fuck, this is ridiculous. I need to get a grip. I take a slow, deep breath.
Cleo chooses that moment to peer at me from under her lashes and bite on the corner of her lip. I tug at my collar, suddenly too hot. My watch says it’s only been five minutes.