“I knew it couldn’t be that easy.”
“Did they get chocolate or white cake for the reception?”
“Huh?”
“Well, I like both, but if I had to choose, it would be a type of swirl concoction… ohh… with amaretto. You know, I could have totally been a baker in another life.”
“Who are you?”
“Andi, your soon-to-be wife and future baker.”
Sergio stopped walking and stared at me, his blue eyes blazing a fiery trail all the way up and down my body. “I’m never at a loss for words.”
“Shock.” I winked. “Now hurry up. I want cake.”
We walked in silence the rest of the way to the house. But sometimes you don’t need words. And with Sergio, I was beginning to realize he might say one thing… but his body language said quite another.
Case in point?
His hand never left my back the entire way to the house, and when I took the stairs, he gripped my hand — hard.
His words said he hated me.
His body said he wanted to keep me safe.
I wondered… in that moment… if he was going to be able to keep his promise after all.
Because I was dying.
And the last thing I wanted was to take the remaining pieces of his humanity with me to the grave.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sergio
NUMBERS.
Numbers made sense.
Code.
Computers.
There was a certain kind of beauty about numbers, about their certainty and meaning. Writing code was no different. It was just numbers, letters, mixing together, creating, evolving. It made sense. It was my comfort. It was my life.
Women, however, made no sense at all.
I expected Andi to be pissed. Hell, after seeing how all the wives treated their husbands I fully expected her to pull a semi-automatic out from underneath her dress and point it at my face.
And I honestly wouldn’t have been angry had she pulled the trigger.
I deserved it.
See, that was the thing about anger. It allowed you to act out — to react, even though you knew it was wrong. It was like jumping off a cliff without a parachute, you thought the air would somehow slow you down, but it didn’t, and you eventually went faster and faster until you hit the ground so hard you were almost broken.
But the pain?
The pain of hitting?
For a brief second, it makes everything else go away.
It makes the jump worth it.
So you climb back up the cliff.
And repeat the process.
Yeah, I was an idiot.
I braced my hands against the sink in the bathroom, my knuckles going completely white as I gripped harder and harder, willing the visions of Andi’s face to stop torturing me.
So maybe I did have a heart, because I felt like shit for what I’d said to her.
Two loud knocks sounded at the door. “Dipshit, it’s time to say your vows!”
Leave it to Tex to completely ruin any sort of emotional breakdown I was having in that small bathroom.
I stared at myself in the mirror. “Give me a minute.”
“One minute,” he yelled. “I don’t care if you’re taking a shit, I’m breaking down the door and forcing you at gunpoint down that aisle if I have to.”
“Fine,” I snapped.
“Fine!” He banged the door again.
At this rate, I was going to have to replace it. Damn Sicilians with their uncontrollable tempers.
The mirror revealed too much. Dark circles framed beneath my eyes revealed how tired I really was.
I hadn’t actually slept since I had been confronted by the family. Since they’d told me I had no choice but to marry Andi and figure my shit out.
Sleep only came if it was induced by alcohol. Which sucked because I really hated hangovers, and I’d never been one to drink that much.
Great start to a marriage!
My messy dark brown hair looked like I’d just hung my head out the window while driving top speed through a field.
I tucked the pieces back behind my ears in vain, knowing that in seconds the hair would fall forward, covering part of my face.
I’d cut it off so I looked the part of professor for my short stint at Eagle Elite, and now that it was growing back, I felt like I resembled more of a drunken pirate than teacher.
Luckily, the minute my time in the FBI had ended, my time at the school had as well.
Leaving me… jobless.
Because, if I was really honest with myself, the FBI wouldn’t want any loose ends. They wouldn’t want someone they couldn’t trust, and, in the end, they’d have to find me in order to interrogate me in the first place.
And I was extremely good at not being found.
I’d spent years as a ghost.
I could do it again.
Except… Andi.
I had to wonder if by keeping her alive, I was signing my own death sentence. What was to keep the FBI from silencing me completely?
If I couldn’t disappear… I groaned into my hands. “Focus, Sergio. Marry the girl, say I do, and power through.” I chanted it into the mirror. “Six months. Only six months.”
Damn, I was a callous bastard.
But I had to be, especially when it came to her.
I took a few deep breaths then jerked open the bathroom door just as Tex was starting to knock. He wasn’t looking, so his hand collided with my forehead before I reared back and slammed that same hand against the door, crushing his fingers against the wall.
He let out a howl then scowled. “Was that necessary?”
“Completely,” I said in a cold voice. “Let’s go.”
“Oh, so now you’re in a hurry,” he grumbled behind me. “Damn it, that hurt. What the hell type of karate you been practicing, Serg?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Huh, remember the days you used to threaten me?”
“Are you under the impression they’re over or something?”
“You’re more quiet than you used to be.”
I sighed. “I’m a lot of things now that I never used to be.”
“Guess that’s what happens… when you sell your soul to the government, huh?”
I stopped walking.
Tex grinned menacingly. “The rest of the guys may be on your side… but remember this. We aren’t blood. We’ve never been blood. If you take one misstep… I’ll beat Phoenix to the punch by shooting you myself.”
“So now there’s a line?” I nodded. “Good to know.”
“I’d kill him so I could get first shot.” Tex popped his knuckles.
“Save your aggression for the bedroom, Cappo.” I shoved past him. “I’m clean… no more FBI, unless they kill me, that is, and no more working for the family. Now I just exist.”
I didn’t stay back to listen to whatever bullshit he was going to throw at me; instead I marched into the large banquet room. It was at least two thousand square feet with huge windows lining the entire backside overlooking the rose gardens.
There was a time when my family used to host parties there.
They’d been huge, epic, something my family had done in order to show the world how much money they had — and how many government officials they had in their pockets. That was all before my father was arrested along with a few other family members, who, lucky for me, were also outlaws. They’d been released on probation just last year. None of us had heard from them since. But I knew, he was always lurking, especially since the FBI had forced me to cut off ties with them, freezing their accounts.
I’d danced my first dance with my ma in that ballroom.
I’d also experienced my first kiss there.
Then again, the first time I’d seen someone shot had been in front of the middle window. The bullet had shattered it. I remembered my mom being pissed because it had been unnecessary. My father’s response? War was unnecessary, yet it existed, didn’t it?
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I shook the memory away. And now… now I was saying my vows.
Without my father… thanks to him being an outlaw.
Without my mother… on account of her being dead.
And with my brother who looked at me like a stranger and my cousin who’d all but disowned me a few days ago, along with the rest of the four crime families.
“Hell,” I muttered, making my way slowly down the improvised aisle and standing at the end by Ax.
Everyone was seated.
Tex stomped into the room and pulled out a chair. It made a screeching sound across the marble floor before he plopped into it, pulling Mo nearly into his lap and then kissing her forehead.
I got it. She was his.
Damn, that man irritated me.
Classical music trickled into the room.
I closed my eyes, preparing myself for the worst. For the moment when I’d see Andi and really see her.
When her joy would cloud my better judgment and make me want to reach out to her.
When her smile would be so damn beautiful and inviting that I’d beg her to be my wife and live.
Just live.
It was like fighting two parts of myself.
I didn’t want to be the good guy — not now, not anymore.
The good guy rarely won.
The good guy rarely even got a fighting chance.
The good guy got his heart slaughtered.
The good guy… sacrificed everything for family and still got shit on.
I was no longer good.
I wasn’t bad either.
I was just… existing. Like I’d told Tex.
The music became louder and louder. My hands started to get clammy as the anticipation became more unbearable as the music continued.
And finally… the door opened, and Andi stepped through.
I had prepared myself for her smile. My body stiffened as she walked happily down the aisle with Nicolai escorting her.
She even threw her own damn rose petals.
The girls joined in the soft laughter as she continued tossing them out of a small basket.
When she was at the end of the aisle, Nicolai kissed her on the top of the head and took his seat up front.
She turned.
I glanced at her smiling mouth. I didn’t allow myself to feel anything. I simply stared at it and thought to myself, Wow pretty smile, full of life, marrying, contract, done deal.
“Pssst.” She gripped my hand. “You’re forgetting something.”
“Um…” Was it normal to talk during the ceremony? I leaned forward and whispered. “What?”
”My veil,” she mouthed.
“Oh.” Feeling stupid I quickly pulled the veil back from her face and froze.
Pure joy met my gaze.
Stunned, I continued to stare, my hands trembling.
“You… uh, you can put it down now.” She winked.
I’d prepared myself for her smile.
But I hadn’t prepared myself for her eyes, for their inviting warmth, for the adoration I didn’t deserve.
She looked at me like I was her hero.
And for one brief moment I wanted more than anything to storm the castle, rescue the girl, and ride off into the sunset.
“Shit,” I muttered, releasing the veil and turning toward the minister.
“Romantic.” She elbowed me in the ribs.
I would not smile.
I would not fall.
I would not, could not allow it… I just couldn’t.
I told my body to stay straight; I told my head not to turn to the side; I told myself not to lean in and smell her.
But no matter what I told myself…
I didn’t listen.
She smelled like lilacs; her skin was perfection; her laugh was warmth.
And I was screwed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Andi
THE CEREMONY WASN’T MY DREAM COME true. I’d be lying if I said it was.
But it was… interesting. Especially during that brief half-second when Sergio had actually looked at me like I was pretty — like I was desirable — like he wanted to be there.
The moment quickly dissipated.
Replaced by the word shit and the sinking feeling he was referring to the fact he was about ready to commit his life to me.
I tried to keep the smile on my face during the reception. And to my utter delight, I had two different flavors of cake; meaning, I was going to kiss Mo on the mouth next time I saw her.
But now… everyone was gone.
And I was exhausted.
My body wasn’t what it once was, and I hated acknowledging the fact that I couldn’t just stay up all night and party with my new family.
I couldn’t even keep my eyes open.
One minute I’d been sipping champagne and leaning heavily on the table. The next I’d felt strong arms lift me up and carry me to bed.
I thought it had been Tex or one of the guys. I mean, all of them were basically muscular bad asses in their own right, so it would be easy for me to confuse which chest was which.
But the smell.
The smell of expensive cologne tipped me off.
Sergio, with all his anger issues, always had a tell. He wore Versace and he had a weakness for expensive everything.
I’d never been the type of girl to like cologne. It seemed overpowering and fake. It reminded me of stuffy overweight men in suits, smoking cigars and talking about crime.
But on Sergio?
Well, let’s just say I had a brief fantasy where we starred in our very own cologne commercial, jet-setting across the world in fast cars and yachts.
Oh, and my bathing suit was black and awesome.
And I wasn’t sick.
I was healthy and swimming in the ocean.
Damn. I missed the ocean.
I blinked against the darkness blanketing the room and held tight to Sergio as he slowly lowered me to the mattress.
My teeth chattered, not because I was cold, but because I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would he try anything with me? Or would the idea actually repulse him?
I tucked my knees up or at least tried to, but Sergio jerked my legs back down.
“What?” I tried to get up on my elbows but was too weak.
“Lie down, Andi. Sleep.”
“But you—”
“Sleep,” he said in a gruff voice as he removed my shoes then very slowly turned me on my side and began unzipping my dress.
“Are you—”
“Going to take advantage of a sick tired girl?” He finished. “No, Andi. I’m not that guy.”
“Bummer,” I joked.
I could have sworn I heard him laugh; then again, I was teetering on the edge of passing out from exhaustion. So, in my weakened state, I probably thought Ryan Gosling was taking his place.
The cool air bit at my skin as he slowly pulled it down over my feet. I shivered and reached for the blankets, but was once again lifted into the air.
“Warning, next time a warning,” I gasped as my cold skin met his heat.
For a second his eyes met mine. It felt important, that moment, like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.
I blinked. I had to. I mean, people blinked in real life. But, because I blinked, we broke eye contact. And the moment disappeared like it hadn’t happened in the first place.
He carefully set me in between the satin sheets and pulled the down comforter over me.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Here.” He set a brand new cell phone on the nightstand. “Text me if you need anything…”
“Are you leaving?”
“I’m going to go… downstairs,” he said in a hard voice. “Don’t text me unless you’re dying.”
“Ha ha.” I yawned. “Not yet, Sergio. You’re not that lucky.”
“No…” he said in a low voice. “I’m really not.”
Something told me we weren’t talking about my death anymore
, but I couldn’t stay awake any longer. I succumbed to sleep and dreamed of my faceless knight with dark hair.
At least in my dreams.
He was real.
CHAPTER NINE
Sergio
I SAT AT THE KITCHEN TABLE, tapping my fingers against the tumbler full of whiskey, irritated that my thoughts kept straying to the girl upstairs lying in my bed.
Her white-blond hair had looked like spun silver in the moonlight, and I’d wanted to tangle my hands in it just to see if it felt as soft as it looked, but the minute I’d leaned down, it was like my mind went into shutdown mode, telling me, yet again, that it would be a bad idea.
So I’d jerked back, and nearly pulled her off the bed in my attempt to get her dress off.
Not how I pictured a wedding night going.
I wasn’t tired — I was exhausted. But my eyes refused to give in to sleep; instead, I tilted the tumbler back and drank deeply.
“This how all Sicilians celebrate?” a dark voice echoed in the kitchen.
I bit back a snarl. “Nicolai… I don’t think we’ve formally met.”
“No.” He pulled out a barstool next to me then reached for a glass and poured himself a double. “I don’t believe the honor of my handshake has been bestowed upon you just yet.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Saw that.”
“Wasn’t trying to hide my disdain.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a small sickle tattoo on his left wrist Disgust rolled throughout my body. I knew what it meant. Knew what it represented. The Russian mafia marked its men in plain sight, unlike my family; we marked ourselves where only we could see. It was a humility thing.
There was nothing humble about the Russians.
It was laughable to even think about it. Then again, sitting at the table with a Russian was just as hilarious. Hell, I’d married one. Damn me.
“You’ll protect her…” He licked his lips and turned his dark menacing eyes toward me. “…or I’ll cut you from belly to chin.”
“Doctors and their toys,” I muttered.
“I’m excellent at hiding bodies — even better at causing pain but not allowing you to scream it out. I like my victims to suffer in silence.”
“How…” I arched an eyebrow. “…utterly poetic.”