Page 81 of His Bride

“I know. We all know that.” For the first time, as I hug her, jealousy claws at me. I don’t want her. I don’t look at her like that. But I want what they have—she and Alexius. Something so profoundly deep and undeniable, a bond that's as reliable as gravity and as fierce as the sun. I long for it with an ache that's bone-deep—but I only want it with one person. New York.

Christ.

I release her, and we head down. I’m doing everything I can to push back this darkness I’m feeling, trying to ignore the emptiness that aches.

How does that even work? How can something that’s empty ache? It’s like goddamn voodoo, and some fucker is just nailing that little Caelian doll with all the sharp needles he can find.

I join in the banter in the car as we head to the glittering private club that’s got a fundraiser tonight to save the orphaned polar bears or something. We always donate, take part, but behind the scenes this is a ‘who’s-who’ shindig. An event for every corrupt asshole to show their faces. And there are deals to be done, palms to grease, and alliances to check on.

For us, it’s so ‘Alexius’ is seen.

There’ll be enough people that it’s not an obvious fanfare moment, but I know it’ll be watched closely. And as far as the world knows, Alexius has had a few in-person meetings and has overseen some shipping concerns with Gabriel.

Overall, he’s been seen enough to kill the rumors, but we’re just being thorough. And judging by all the eyes on us when we walk in, I’d say it’s working. It’s also working on my nerves because I’d rather be home having a heart-to-heart with a very expensive bottle of bourbon to drown my emptiness in.

But instead, I’m stuck here forced to act like my heart isn’t currently hanging on the outside of my chest.

We hit the main room, and after making small talk here and there, I head for the smoking room when my skin lights up like electricity races through it.

Something compels me to look to the bar, and what do you know? The universe has decided to, yet again, penetrate me anally while I’m bent over a barrel ofare-you-fucking-kidding-me?

Aurelio, aka the motherfucker, is standing there with a smug grin on his ugly face, and he’s squeezing a perfect ass of a perfect brunette whose hourglass figure is just…perfect.Jesus.

“Giana,” I murmur, my voice raspier than death on a dry day. I’m already snarling like some animal about to lose his catch to some sneaking interloper. I start to storm toward them when Isaia grabs my arm.

“Calm down, brother.”

“Unless you want your intestines pulled out of your throat, I suggest you let go of me.”

“This is not the time or the place.”

“Isaia, I swear to God.”

“Just…wait,” he grits, and I watch them at the bar.

Frank Corletto, the ugly dude Aurelio’s talking to, a man of quick, dirty schemes and the sort of deals we don’t mess with, points across the room to a bunch of his cronies, and Aurelio leans close to Giana, whispers something, and then leaves.

“It’ll be a no wives, whores, or girlfriends kind of meeting,” Isaia states. “My guess is you’ll have about twenty minutes.” Then he lets go of me, and I make my way to her, not wasting a single second.

The dress she’s wearing is too tight, too short, and I know before she turns it’s too low cut. It’s tacky. Slut-style. It looks spectacular on her in a “for-Caelian’s-eyes-only” kind of way, which is why I’m slipping off my suit jacket as I head to the bar and immediately place it over her shoulders.

“Hey, what the—” She turns. Stills like she’s seen a ghost. “Caelian.”

“Hey, New York.”

Chapter 21

GIANA

Iforget how my lungs work.

All the air’s trapped, and I’m alive for the first time since I last saw him. Every bit of darkness that’s consumed me the last few days fades, and I’m overwhelmed with relief and love, and something starts to glow inside me.

“Caelian,” I whisper.

My skin tingles from his touch as he drapes his jacket over my shoulders. “You don’t listen to me, do you, Giana?”

Swift heat engulfs me, scorching my skin as everything constricts. “I didn’t choose this.”

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