“Just get dressed,” the big guard says, clenching his jaw in irritation. “And don’t skimp on the lingerie. Giovanni is very particular with how he expects his women to dress. Lace is best,” he spits. “Oh, and don’t forget to smile. A DeAngelis wife must always smile.”
“Fuck you.”
“If you weren’t about to become my boss’s bride,” he says, his eyes darkening, “I would have fucked you the moment I walked into this room and found you tied down.”
I scoff, crossing the room and trying to ignore the heated stares coming from him and his asshole friends. “What’s the matter, asshole? Couldn’t get a woman on her knees without the need to rape her? Tough break. Don’t blame them though,” I say, letting my eyes drag up and down his body in disgust. “You’re certainly no treat, and don’t act like I didn’t see your micro cock straining through your pants while I showered. No woman in her right mind would want that. Now, your friend,” I say, glancing at the dude who released me from my binds. “He has something to work with.”
He roars in anger, and as he storms toward me, I step into the closet and wait just a moment before slamming the door so hard it crushes against his face. Sick laughter tears through me as I pull the zipper down on the garment bag and get the first look at the stupid silk wedding gown that Giovanni expects me to wear, only the laughter dies down as the piercing wail of the baby in the next room tears through the walk-in closet.
My heart shatters.
Hang in there, little guy. I’m coming for you, and then I promise, you’ll get to meet all three of your big brothers. You’ll be safe, and loved, and warm. You’ll never want for anything. Just give me a little more time.
After rifling through my underwear drawer, I pick out the most hideous lingerie I can find before taking the dress off the hanger and reluctantly putting it on, hating how it fits me perfectly, and damn it, it’s really fucking beautiful.
A tear streaks down my face.
Today I get married to the wrong DeAngelis.
Letting out a heavy sigh, I quickly wipe my face and pull on a pair of heels that work nicely with the gown. The matching veil slides effortlessly into my hair, and I let it fall over my face before opening the closet door and preparing to face the devil.
The boys told me that I should have run and never turned back, and up until this very moment, I refused to hear them. I wanted nothing more than to come back here and do what I could to save them, but I hear them now. I hear the agony in their voices, the desperation for me to allow myself a better life, even if that meant being on the run forever.
I didn’t hear them until now.
Now, I’ve never wanted to run so fast in my fucking life.
11
The church is massive, and I immediately hate it.
Grandfather DeAngelis sits at the very front, a sick grin resting on his old, decrepit lips as familiar faces fill the pews around me. The whole DeAngelis family—or what’s left of it—must have shown up for Giovanni’s big moment.
He stands at the top of the aisle, watching me like a hawk, his eyes glistening with a million dark secrets, and with each step I take down the long aisle, bile rises higher in my throat.
My heart races, erratically thundering in my chest, and I barely hear the soft music over the loud thumping of my pulse in my ears. People stare at me left and right, and I can only imagine what they’ve been told of the union, of what it could mean for the DeAngelis family to secure the only living heir to the Moretti fortune, plus the added kick in the famous DeAngelis sons’ balls that their father has stolen the one remaining thing that’s important to them—me.
With each step down the aisle, I remind myself that without getting through this, I stand no chance at getting close to the boys again. If I run now, I risk it all. Plus, I have maybe two or three hundred mafia men to deal with in this very room. Running isn’t an option, not unless I want a bullet in the back.
The priest standing in the center of the aisle to Giovanni’s right looks like he’s going to be sick, and I hope to God that this guy is on my side, that he’s maybe written some loophole into the vows, some way for me to get out, but Giovanni is too smart to be played like that. I can guarantee that the whole does anybody object to this union part is probably going to be accidentally forgotten. And hell, where the fuck is Gia? I know she doesn’t give two shits about me, but surely it’s in her best interests to do something about this. On second thought, it’s also in my best interests for her not to be here right now, at least not yet. She’s more than welcome to come and ‘rescue’ me once I have the boys safe and sound.
Stepping up in front of Giovanni, my stomach twists, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing out. A man like this won’t hesitate to put me in my place, especially in front of all these people.
The soft background music begins to fade, and my hands grow clammy with sweat. I swallow hard, my stare locked on Giovanni’s as he watches me, his hard, dark eyes are so similar to Roman’s that it kills something within me. “Don’t play any games,” he warns me, his tone low and private. “Nobody needs to get hurt today.”
My jaw clenches and I resist the need to cry as the priest begins to speak, welcoming the guests to the grandest wedding of the year, uniting two families for the sake of peace. Realizing that this whole thing is going to be a pile of flaming bullshit, I let my mind wander back to the boys and the happy memories we shared. We’ll get back there again. I know we will. There’s just one more hurdle that we need to make it over before we can find our peace.
I don’t hear another fucking word the priest says as I do my part at the front of the church. Giovanni holds my stare hostage the whole time. Minutes pass, or it could be hours, I honestly don’t know. I’m so fucking numb that nothing matters to me right now.
Marcus … that spark in his eye. It was gone.
I whimper.
Giovanni reaches for my hands, gripping them in his own so fucking tight that an agonizing crack fires through my pinky. “Careful,” he warns me as I hold back a ferocious scream. “Don’t force me to break another.”
Tears well in my eyes but I don’t dare let them fall as the priest steps closer between us. “Your vows,” he says, glancing toward Giovanni expectantly before turning to me, a flicker of sadness in his closed off stare.
“Indeed,” Giovanni says, the darkness fading behind his eyes as he puts on a show for his loyal guests. He adjusts his hold on my hand and fire burns through my finger as he fixes me with a soft smile, fakeness tearing across his features. A moment passes before he steps a little bit closer, unable to keep his smile from turning into a sneer. “I, Giovanni Roman DeAngelis, take thee, Shayne Alexandra Moretti, to be my lawful wedded wife, to hold from this day on. Till death do us part.”