“Axel, you can’t be serious. That’s my mother.”
Leaning back, Axel crosses his arms, eyebrow raised and a wicked smirk on his full lips. “So? That’s my father.”
Kian leans over and nips my earlobe. He takes my coke and pours it into the glass. “Better, Sweet Girl? Now she won’t have a clue what you’re drinking.”
His hand travels up my legs, and he slides a finger into my center before dipping it into the glass and mixing the cum with the coke. He winks as he sucks the finger. “Tastes good.”
My mother walks back to the table with Anthony’s hand on her lower back as if he’s guiding her. I was a little worried about their fast union, but my mother is happier than I’ve ever seen her, and the way Anthony looks at her rivals the way his son stares at me. The Moretti men have a way of making their woman the center of their universe. If Anthony loves my mom a fraction of the way Axel loves me, then she’s genuinely happy.
“So what’s this talk about weddings,” Anthony asks as he follows my mother into the booth.
“The four of us are getting married,” Axel says. “Take a sip of your drink, Stella.”
I kick him under the table, and all he does is smile, the arrogant ass. He raises one eyebrow, cocking his head when I don’t move quickly enough. I smile and sit there with my hands on my lap, and he bursts out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” my mother asks, confusion fluttering on her face.
Axel leans his head on his elbow, his eyes never leaving my face. “Oh, I was wondering if Stella would enjoy drinking from the source more than her glass. I think it might be interesting watching her try to catch her breath as she takes it that way.”
The asshole. He’s going to sit here and tell our parents everything if I don’t do what he wants. I choke on my saliva as I take the glass, tilting it to my lips.
“That’s a good girl. Remember, big brother knows best.”
My mother sputters as she grabs her chest at Axel claiming to be the big brother of the girl he’s banging. I glare a warning at him.
Anthony ignores the exchange. “It’s illegal to marry more than one person.” He’s probably used to his son’s insanity and has learned to ignore it instead of confronting it, which is smart since confrontation fuels Axel. “Maybe we hold the ceremony with one of you.”
“Yes, no one is getting married legally. It’s more spiritual,” Kian injects. “It’s the four of us. Our way.”
ChapterEight
KIAN
Morettibetter not pull this shit. Stella is ours, all of ours. Not one of us gets to have his name on here while the other two get scraps.
Moretti isn’t stupid enough to go against me. Sure, he’s the boss, but I’m the unhinged one. I’m the one he sends in when he needs someone or something eliminated. He’s not dumb enough to think he could replace me so quickly. Enforcers like me are a needle in a haystack. Anyone can kill on demand, but only a few can kill on demand, erase all evidence, and be loyal as fuck. My loyalty comes with a price, and that’s my queen. Don’t fuck with Stella, and you’ll come up smelling like roses. Mess with her, and I’ll end you. It doesn’t matter if he’s Axel’s daddy.
Before I can say anything else, we’re saved by two servers placing food on the table.
Stella stabs her salad with her fork as she tucks strands of her long brown hair behind her ear. All this is freaking her out. As much as she wanted a wedding, she thought it wasn’t possible. But if Stella wants something, we’ll make it possible. No matter what.
“Dad, we want to commit to each other. The four of us. It’s not just about Stella. It’s about all of us as a family. A unit.”
“How are you going to address the invites?” Laura asks.
Stella looks her mother directly in the eyes. She doesn’t flinch, and her voice is steady and clear. “We’re only inviting twenty-five people. Tops. We only want people there we care about and care about us.”
Laura places her hand on Stella’s. She takes a moment while she stares at her daughter. Worry flashes over her face as she squints her eyes, searching Stella’s face for something. “Is that what you want, Stella? You always wanted a big, elaborate wedding.”
Anger creeps up my veins like venom, ready to control my entire being. I don’t like when people question Stella or us. It’s insulting how most assume that we control her thoughts, feelings, and desires. We don’t. What Stella wants is of her free will. Contrary to what most believe, we aren’t holding her captive against her will.
I shovel food in my mouth to avoid saying anything I might regret later. Out of the three of us, I’m not the one known for controlling my temper.
Sensing my unease, Ronan interjects. “What someone wants when they’re six years old changes in their twenties. The things we plan as children are rarely things we attain in adulthood.”
That seems to appease Laura. She nods and continues eating her salmon.
Anthony stares at her. As long as his wife is satisfied, so is he. “Well, we won’t stand in your way if this is what you all want.”