Page 18 of Heritage of Fire

The priest says some more words, and the whoosh of people sitting back down yanks Luna’s attention from me. She looks toward her family, tears welling, and I don’t miss the woman, who I assume is her mother, raising her chin and shaking her head. Disgust seems to roll down Mrs. Buscetta's nose.

What kind of mother doesn’t offer her daughter a reassuring smile at a time like this?

We repeat some one-line vows and exchange rings. Her family’s ring sits ugly and huge on her left hand and when she peers up at me to put my ring on, I snatch it out of her fingers and put it on myself.

It’s a black band, sleek and simple. If this were a real wedding, I would be proud to wear something like this. But it’s not. And I won’t be wearing it after today.

“By the power vested in me by the State of New York, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

The priest’s declaration interrupts my thoughts, and I freeze. The church is quiet. There is no celebration. The only smiles in the sanctuary sit on Salvatore and his wife’s faces.

I look down at Luna. Her eyes are darting around. I don’t kiss her. I won’t.

The priest sighs and starts to raise his arms in the air to dismiss us.

Movement catches me off guard. Luna steps into my space, a waft of jasmine and a fresh citrusy scent distracting me. She lifts onto her toes and places a small peck on my cheek. Not bothering to look at me, she steps back, taking her captivating scent with her.

The priest smirks at me like I got bested. I shrug.

Luna’s cheeks are bright red—I’ve probably embarrassed her.

We both turn to the silently seated guests. I offer my arm, but when my eyes find hers, I notice fire raging in her irises. She snaps her head to the side, taking her compelling gaze away. I almost growl.

Her small hand hooks onto my arm so lightly I can barely feel her.

Walking out of the room, I’m the most powerless I’ve been in my whole life.

Chapter 9

Luna

Iwanted to leave this reception the moment I walked in.

I glance over to where Nikolai is standing with several of his Bratva brothers; one being the man with the eerie smile I noticed at my house weeks ago. Nikolai’s shoulders shake with laughter, capturing the attention of everyone around him. He’s one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met with his short blond hair and hazel eyes, and a trimmed beard that doesn’t hide his dimple when he smiles. Although, he hasn’t smiled atme.

After the ceremony, and after my mother required me to touch up my makeup since I was sweating so much at the altar, we arrived at the country club venue separately. It was a neutral location selected by both leaders. My mother wasn’t thrilled about it—preferred the private botanical gardens at some other place—but the expansive ballroomisbeautiful. Floor-to-ceiling windows on the farm side display lush greenery, and several doors open up to the gardens, including a charming gazebo as the focal point.

I’ve been seated alone at the two-person wedding table for twenty minutes. Hors d’oeuvres are being served and drinks are flowing from the bar. My eyes wander to the armed men, ten oneach side of the room, then over to where my father is speaking with Luka Morozov.

I slouch, slinking down into my chair as tears threaten to fall. I wrap my arms around my middle, keeping my head down. I don’t need a room full of mafia men to realize I’m about to lose it. Dizziness makes everything spin and I try to signal a waiter for some water. Unfortunately, every time they pass, the words won’t come out. The pit in my stomach grows with each passing minute—I need to get out of here.

A glass of water is placed in front of me, and I glance up to see Luka’s fiancée standing in front of me. Her smile is infectious. I can’t help but offer a small one back.

“Figured you could use this.” She motions to the extra seat at the table, and I nod, effectively giving her permission to sit down. “I’m Kate,” she says, extending her hand.

“Luna,” I croak, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. I snatch the water off the table and drain half, instant relief flooding my mouth. “Thank you, I needed that.”

“Have you talked to him yet?” she asks, her gaze going to Nikolai, who has moved on to talk with several young women, all of whom are fawning over him. I lower my head again, not wanting Kate to see my embarrassment.

“No, I haven’t.”

My hand shakes as I go to lift my glass again, but Kate snags my wrist before I reach it. She offers a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry this happened to you, Luna.”

There’s a soothing quality to her voice, and I appreciate her words. She’s the only person who has offered condolences to me. The only person to see through the cheap distraction of what this truly is.

The ache in my chest grows as I catch Nikolai out of the corner of my eye. His hand runs through his hair, and he takes another drink from his tumbler while handing a flute ofchampagne to a redhead. This guy is something else. Probably never been in a committed relationship in his life.

---