1
Reid
When I first met Cora, she was wearing a wedding dress.
It wasn’t how I pictured our first meet-cute but this wasn’t an everyday situation. Don Vincent, the acting head of the Leone Crime Family, stood at the front of the church with a wicked smiled and a midnight-black suit. The head of the Volkov Crew and my current boss, Hedeon, stood on my side in the traditional best man’s spot, which was more than fitting—considering he orchestrated this entire wedding.
The pews were filled with made men, their wives and girlfriends, and a few kids. I knew everyone on the Volkov side—men I’d known all my life and the crews they worked over, men I considered brothers, best friends, family. The Leone side was a little bit sketcher, but there were a few faces I recognized, like Dante, Luca and Steven, guys that were legends in the city’s underworld. They gazed back at me impassively as I took my position up at the altar and nodded at Hedeon, who gave me a big grin in response and clasped my arm.
I hoped he was happy. He’d better be, since this was the last thing in the world I wanted—but when the crew asked something of me, I always stepped up.
Soft voices echoed through the huge marble church. I glanced over at the stained-glass windows, at the statues of Jesus, at the opulent columns that ended in elaborate carvings along their tops and had to admit that Catholics had pretty damn good taste in art. White, pink, and light blue flowers bloomed along the edges of the pews and a light gauzy fabric hung from the ceiling, casting gentle shadows over the assembled killers. The priest was an old dude decked out in that fancy robe—I wasn’t sure it was called, unfortunately I didn’t pay attention the two or three times I went to Mass when I was growing up—and his hair was a shock of white that stuck out from his skull like he’d been electrocuted.
I shifted from foot to foot and for the first time in a long time, I felt a stab of nerves.
“You’re sweating,” Hedeon whispered, leaning forward so that the priest couldn’t hear. “What’s the matter?”
I turned my head toward him to answer. “What’s this girl look like again?”
Hedeon laughed. “What’s it matter? This is for the crew.”
“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one marrying her.”
He squeezed my arm again and grinned. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t make you do something you didn’t want to do. If she’s not your type, we’ll call it off.”
I gave him a look. “Fat fucking chance with the whole goddamn Leone family ten feet away.”
“What, them? Who gives a fuck about them? You need a pretty wife, that’s important. We’ll just tell them to go fuck themselves.”
I glared at him, but the traditional wedding march began and I turned forward to face my future.
An arranged marriage. I always thought that sort of thing was for people in different cultures, in places far, far away from Philadelphia—but when Hedeon approached me and suggested that I could cement the bond between his new Volkov Crew and the Leone Crime Family, I knew I couldn’t turn my back on him, not when he’d done so much for me.
Which meant I was about to get hitched to a total stranger.
The doors to the chapel opened and the crowd stood. I felt my heart race and I thought I might pass out. Des grinned at me and I saw Owain give me a big smile and a wink while he held the hand of his pretty little girlfriend, Leigh. I looked away from the crowd, unable to face the smirks, the knowing smiles, the laughter in their eyes—and kept my gaze locked on the far end of the room as two people stepped in through the doors.
The man on the left was older, graying hair, dark pin-striped suit, scrubby beard on his fat face. His name was Gael Leone, brother of the main boss of the Leone Family and a minor player. He kept to himself and controlled a small subsection of South Philly like a king, but didn’t do much beyond his few meager blocks.
The girl on his arm was my future wife. Her dress plunged down the front and a diamond sparkled on her throat. My eyes moved along her hips and lingered on her curves as I felt a spike of excitement. Her breasts were full and round, her skin tanned and smooth, and her hair looked dark and hung in curls down to her shoulders. As she got closer, I could see through the white gauzy veil over her face—and couldn’t help the stupid smile that broke out across my face.
She was pretty. Really, really fucking pretty. She had hazel eyes that shone in the light and her cheeks were high above a set of round red lips that drove me absolutely wild. I wasn’t shy about the way I stared as her father glared death at me, walked her up to her spot on the altar, and deposited her there with some whispered words. He walked back down to sit in the front row and crossed his arms like he wanted nothing to do with the whole affair.