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But I couldn’t spare a thought for him. I was too busy looking at my new, pretty wife—my gorgeous, very fuckable wife. She stared back at me through the veil and I wasn’t sure what her expression meant; maybe some combination of skeptical, angry, and interested. I felt a surge of relief and confusion wash over me as the priest cleared his throat, and I realized I was supposed to do something.

Hedeon leaned forward. “Lift the veil. She’s pretty enough, right?”

I grinned at him, reached forward, and pulled her veil back.

Goddamn right she was pretty enough.

But she didn’t smile as we locked eyes.

The priest cleared his throat and began, but the rest of the service was a blur. The priest sounded like one of those adults on that Charlie Brown cartoon I used to watch as a kid, all wah wah, womp wah, wah womp. I stood there staring at her pretty, full lips, her deep hazel eyes, her high cheekbones, and tried to remember her name. There’d be plenty of time to figure that out in the coming—well, the rest of my life, really—but I should probably start off on a good foot.

Still, the fact that she was gorgeous made my heart do flips from pure joy. I felt like I dodged a bullet, and the rest would be smooth sailing.

Or probably not. The whole marriage thing was never supposed to be in the cards for me, and this whole thing was supposed to be for show. She glared at me like she wanted to rip off my balls and probably didn’t enjoy the way I stared at her body with undisguised delight—but she couldn’t really be that surprised considering how good she looked in that dress.

I was torn from my thoughts as she glared at me and leaned forward. I realized everyone was staring at me and I did my best to put on a charming smile.

“It’s the good part,” Hedeon whispered. “Kiss the fucking girl.”

“You may kiss the bride,” the priest said and I got the feeling it wasn’t the first time.

I stepped forward and the girl’s jaw clenched. As I leaned closer, it hit me—

Cora, my future wife.

I put a hand on the small of her back, the first time I’d ever touched her. She didn’t pull away but I felt her muscles tense beneath my fingers. I leaned forward, head tilted, and her face relaxed a fraction of an inch as I pressed my lips against hers.

It wasn’t a great kiss. She didn’t open her mouth, didn’t lean into it—but still, her lips were full and soft and I tasted lemons and poppy as I pulled away, letting my hand linger on her body for a moment, our eyes locked in front of the church.

My wife. My Cora.

What the fuck had I just gotten myself into?

“It is my pleasure to present to you all Mr. and Mrs. Reid Marino.”

The church went wild as everyone stood and applauded. Hedeon clapped me on the back and I walked down the center aisle with my new wife. I kept a hand on her lower back and she moved stiffly like I held a gun against her head. I grinned and winked at a few guys, and I thought I saw some jealousy in their stares—everyone thought I’d been given the shit job, but instead I landed a pretty wife. I felt like I was in heaven, and I couldn’t be happier.

Once we left the chapel and stood in a vestibule before stepping outside, she pulled away from my hand, turned to face me, and slapped me hard across the face. I stood there in complete shock for several beats as her jaw clenches and she breathed hard, glaring pure death at me.

“What the fuck?” I touched my cheek and stared at her, eyes wide. It hurt, but the pain was not big deal. It was the abrupt viciousness of the act and the wild, raging hate in her eyes as she stared at me like she wanted to do more than hit me once.

“Let’s get something straight,” she said. “Don’t you ever touch me like that again. And this whole marriage? It’s bullshit.”

I worked my jaw and stared at her for a long moment. All the elation I felt melted away as I took stock of her.

She was barely over five foot four and looked like she wanted to murder me. I could throw her over my shoulder and carry her off to my marriage bed at any second, and there’d be nothing she could do about it. I wanted to show her who had control in this situation—but I knew that was the wrong play.

She was a Leone. I couldn’t use brute strength here.

I dropped my fingers from my face and gave her my best smile.

“You’re damn right it’s bullshit.”


Tags: B.B. Hamel Volkov Crime Family Romance