Blinking rapidly to clear the rising tears blurring my vision, I tighten my hand on my father’s arm for support. Each step drags like I’m wading through syrup, and my heart punches loudly in my chest with each step.
I’m getting married. I’m about to become Mrs. Killian Scarano.
Oh, God.Don’t fuck up. Don’t fall…Please, God, don’t let me fall!
We stop in front of a set of large, deep oak double doors, and Kimmy emerges out of nowhere, her eyes bright and her cheeks rosy.
“Cara!” she exclaims, clutching at my forearms as she runs her gaze over me. “You look so beautiful! Oh goodness, look at you! You’re fucking getting married!” Her squeals cause my father to shift beside me and he sharply clears his throat. Sadie grasps Kimmy’s arm and pulls her into place behind me, and my lips twitch again. That burst of normalcy is exactly what I need, and for a split second, the churning in my gut fades into nothing.
Then the organ starts playing and my nerves return with such guttural force that I gasp, but the noise is swallowed by the creak of the double doors swinging wide open. My father starts to walk, tugging my arm.
There’s no turning back now.
My first couple of steps wobbles after him as he starts to stride forward in time to the music. I quickly gather myself and fall in line beside him, then I lift my gaze to scan around the church.
Oh, God.
The pews are heaving with family, a sea of Irish and Italian spilling out before me, and every single pair of eyes are on me. Tears still swim in my eyes, blurring the cream pillars that line the room, making it look like everyone is surrounded by an unearthly glow, stretching up to the balconies that hold more people.Do we know this many people?The circles I’ve met have always seemed so small, yet here they all are, staring down at me like vultures atop clouds waiting for me to slip up so they can pry the meat off my carcass.
Warmth flushes through me and a prickle of heat crawls so sharply up my spine that I have to swallow down a wince. It steals my breath away and I sink my teeth into my lower lip to ensure the nausea in my gut stays there.
I can’t do this.
I glance down at the red carpet we’re walking on, seeking a distraction to try and calm the pounding of my heart but the crimson looks like a scar amidst the sea of people. A threat of what could happen if Killian learns of my lie and decides I’m not worth it. The room spins slightly, and just when I start to float, Sadie’s hand brushes over the back of my arm, grounding me in the moment.
Deep breaths. I’ve got this. It’s just nerves. Nerves twist everything. Just breathe, just breathe—
I just have to make it up there, up to Killian and—
Wait, Killian…
I pull my eyes away from the altar and skim to the right, seeking Killian out in the sea of faces around me. Then I see him. He stands tall and proud at the head of the room, like a steadfast port in the storm around me. The moment we lock eyes, the entire world falls silent, and my body stills its frantic war with itself.
He’s dressed in a dark charcoal suit with an emerald waistcoat that matches the emerald of my bridesmaid’s dresses. A darker emerald ascot sits below his collar, and an emerald handkerchief is tucked into his upper suit pocket. His hair is slicked backward, and his jaw is set so hard I can see the outline of bone cutting across his face. But what strikes me the most is how much his gray eyes pop against the green.
He’s watching me so intently I could benakedwalking up the aisle and I wouldn’t care, as long as he holds me in his gaze. I can’t tear my eyes away from how handsome he looks. So often they talk about the groom being blown away by the bride, but I can barely keep my thoughts together at the sight of him. Just over his shoulder, I glimpse Dante, his best man. Of course, it couldn’t be anyone else. Then, I see Archer looking mildly uncomfortable at being dressed up like a penguin, but as one of the groomsmen, he looks quite handsome too. A far cry from the stoic man that stalks about the safe house ready to murder for us, but it’s nice to see Killian opening up and letting people into his life.
He’d seemed so lonely in the early days.
My mouth turns dry as my father leads me to a stop in front of Killian. I catch the droning tone of his voice, but I don’t hear what he says. I can’t really hear anything over the stumbling patter of my own heart in my ears. Still, I can’t bring myself to care as Killian continues to hold me in his vibrant, stormy eyes.
He takes my hand from my father and my lips part, my breath coming shorter and faster as a jolt of energy bounces through me the moment we touch.
The air around us sparks with charge and if we touch for too long, I’m sure thunder will crack. Killian’s fingers thread with mine, his palm hot and rough against my own and my mind betrays me. I imagine those hands stroking over my skin as he leaned above me and kissed me deeply.
“You lookbeautiful,” Killian whispers to me, pulling me out of my daydream, and my heart skips a beat. Sweat starts to dampen over my skin, causing my dress to stick and pull slightly against my back. As the material constricts, my breathing flutters rapidly as a smothering heat starts to build underneath my veil.
Killian turns to the priest standing before us and the energy around us pulls at me, urging me to move and shift to try and release some of it, but I can’t. I’m rooted to the spot by Killian’s presence and the eyes of the entire church behind us.
This is it.
I finally drag my gaze away from Killian and up to the priest, but I swear he’s talking in a foreign language. I don’t understand a word, but I also don’t care. We’re here, finally securing the union between our families in the eyes of the law, mafia, and otherwise. A duty I loathed and now it fills me with sharp excitement. I’m finally becoming Killian’swife,and it’ll bring an end to any Irish/Italian discourse.
Except the Russians.The Russian problem lands right at the Italian front door, thanks to my father.
There’s a rush of animosity towards my father, one that takes me by such surprise that I wobble faintly. In an instant, Killian releases my hand and slides his hand around my back, his fingers curling warm at my opposite waist to support me. My chestswellswith warm affection as I rest back into his hold, and I swallow hard around a lump that’s forming in my throat.
The priest doesn’t miss a beat, but his words are still lost on me. My focus is locked on Killian’s hand burning against my waist and I’m hyper-aware that everyone can see it. They likely see Killian kindly supporting his over-exerted fiance on her wedding day, but I know the truth. His touch is as possessive as it is supportive.