Page 98 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

We’re all caught up in the machinations of the underworld’s rules and games. If I want to rule, then I need to look at it all. Not just my own little hurts. And it comes at me again, the Matteo thing. That there’s hope I didn’t have for happiness before. Personal happiness. And that’s special.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” I say.

“You’re safer with him.”

I take a breath. And say what he wants to hear, and what I weirdly think is the truth. “With Matteo by my side, the Mulligan empire will flourish. Me, too.”

He kisses my cheek and leads me into the church, Aunt Maura going first.

“Heaven, come on! We’re a little beyond fashionably late here,” Aunt Maura calls out.

Patrick lets out a low whistle as he walks over, pulling me in for a tight bear hug. “You look gorgeous, Heaven. Villani is a lucky guy.”

Niall holds out a flask of whiskey and I grab it, taking a quick chug, watching Conor out of the corner of my eye. He stands a few feet away from everyone, his arms folded and his face twisted into his signature scowl.

“What the hell is he doing here?” I mutter to Patrick.

“I know he’s a dick, but not so much that he’d miss your sham wedding.”

Or to see me gone. And I really don’t care. With Matteo, we’ll keep Conor in his place.

My father bends his head close to Conor’s ear, murmuring something that makes my brother’s eyes take on a murderous glaze. He pulls away from Dad, muttering something in a low growl that I can’t quite make out. I’m damn curious to know what the hell has his boxers in a twist.

But I can’t worry about that right now. I have a wedding to get through. And afterward, I’ll have the power of the Sicilian mafia on my side.

“Dad,” I say. “It’s time.”

He looks at me, a guilty expression on his face. He quickly clears his throat. “Oh, certainly,a leanbh. Yes, let’s go.”

The sounds of the organ music echo in the space as Aunt Maura pulls my veil over my face and steps back, smiling from ear to ear. “Heaven, your life can be anything you want it to be. We had our little talk in the car. But this is the other one. The wedding one. Always remember that you aren’t defined by whom you marry. You’re defined by who you are and what you decide to do with your gifts. And there are plenty of gifts,a stór.”

I want that, I realize. And I want that with Matteo. I want to look into his eyes and feel the same comfort and security I did after I woke up after the nightmare. I want the sweetness and comfort and warmth, as well as the heat of our passion. I want a chance to have it all. To find love with him.

When Dad and I reach the end of the aisle, he lifts the veil. My pulse rockets, and I can’t stop the smile. I can finally see Matteo clearly, and a tiny pang makes me waver the slightest bit.

I’ve only seen his real smile a couple of times. It’s bright white, and so wide that it makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

I’m much more familiar with the forced one. I’ve seen that plenty. It’s tight, tense, and not in any way etched with happiness.

Today, I wanted the former.

Instead, I have the latter.

A sudden chill slithers down my spine as Dad shakes Matteo’s hand and ushers me toward him.

He doesn’t look at me like we have something, that little nugget of special. He doesn’t tell me I look beautiful. He doesn’t say a damn word.

He just stares at Father O’Malley, going through the motions, not showing a damn shred of affection for his bride.

Just as anyone would expect from the business arrangement this is.

The wedding ceremony is over in a blur. The reality, the truth, that it’s just a business deal slams hard into me. Yes, he chose me, but I’ve gone and read too much into it. I’ve gone and let that little girl with her pink glittery hearts and dreams of white knights that don’t exist get to me.

I’m a fucking fool.

At the very least, I’d hoped for some warmth, at least a friendship, but he’s the cold, ruthless bastard who played me when we met. I guess his transaction is complete, and he no longer needs to pretend there’s anything there.

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