Page 32 of Vicious Heir

Kennedy gives me a quick smile as I walk toward her, the traditional wedding march playing. Pierre’s by my side, walking me down the aisle. I’m shaking and breathing fast, trying to stay calm, but the weight of all these fake freaking smiles is like an anchor trying to drag me down to hell.

And then there’s him.

Standing at the altar before the priest.

A devil in a black suit. A sinner and a beast. It honestly surprises me that he can be on holy ground without turning to ash.

My future husband, Adriano Marino.

He’s beauty and death. I’ve never seen a man so terrifying and attractive in all my life. He’s looking at me like he wants to grab me by the hair and force me down to my knees for him, like he thinks I should be praying at his feet instead of in front of the holy cross.

This is all wrong.

But my feet keep moving until Pierre deposits me in my position. Kennedy touches my hand, giving it a brief squeeze.

Then Adriano’s stare grabs me and won’t let go as the priest begins to speak.

I have no clue what the old man’s saying.

All I can hear is my hammering heart, and all I can see are Adriano’s lips, his eyes, that deadly, cold gaze, that beautiful hair.

This man tied my hands behind my back and fucked me into submission.

And I don’t know a thing about him.

Panic threatens to overwhelm me. If I weren’t up in front of the people I hate most in this world, I’d break down in tears. But I can’t let them see me tremble. This crowd would leap on me at the first sign of any weakness and tear me to shreds.

Grandmother would be the first one in line to drink my blood.

“Easy, little wife,” Adriano whispers when we finally exchange rings. He leans forward. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine.” I hold his hands, per the priest’s instructions. They’re warm and callused. He’s got little scars around his knuckles like they’ve been broken open a thousand different times. Those are the hands of a fighter and a killer.

Adriano says the vows first. He pins me as he does it, not looking away, speaking loudly and confidently. There’s a strange possessive yearning in him, something I’ve never seen before. It makes a thrill run down my spine.

And then it’s my turn. “I, Lucille Willing-Morris, take you, Adriano Marino, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful,supportive, and loyal, and to give you my love and friendship through all the years to come, ‘til death do us part.”

The priest spreads his arms wide. “It’s my great pleasure to present for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Adriano Marino. You may kiss the bride.”

Adriano slowly lifts my veil. I look at him, my mouth hanging open. The church is empty, and the whole world goes still. There’s nothing but him, my dark prince. My evil sinner. My shadow and death. He’s too damn sweet and stained with everything wrong and good.

When he leans down, I meet him halfway, eager to lose myself in him.

The kiss is lightning. It’s electric and it burns. I sizzle and bend and give myself over. It’s everything a church kiss shouldn’t be. It’s filled with promise, wet and horrible promise.

Then it breaks apart, and everyone’s standing and clapping, and Kennedy leads me back into the waves of grinning bastards as the wedding churns over into the lavish reception.

Adriano

Fuckingmarried.

I sit at the bar with Lev and Luca, drinking while the two of them trade war stories. Carmie’s with Bianca; the two of them are probably harassing guests into following some strictly defined entertainment schedule.

I don’t know where my wife is.

I don’t know why I care.

There are fifty hardened mafia men hanging around the Crystal Tea Room, plus a dozen more bodyguards assigned to the high-society bastards. There’s no way a Gray Wolf assassin could get anywhere near her.

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