Page 15 of His Playground
“I’m good,” I tell him.
“Suit yourself.” He shrugs.
The organ music starts playing and the doors across from us open. Antonia’s two friends walk in first, and thenshe’scoming down with her father. My eyes stay focused on her face. She looks so fucking beautiful. Then again, she always does. Even without a speck of makeup on her face, she is breathtaking.
Her lips are smiling, but her eyes are sending daggers my way. I smile back at her. I don’t care how much she hates me right now. I’m doing this for her just as much as I’m doing it for myself and Jazzy.
When they reach me, Marciano kisses her cheek and moves to the pew on the other side.
“Glad you could make it.” I pick up Antonia’s hands and hold them in mine.
“I wasn’t aware it was a choice,” she says between gritted teeth.
Her palms are shaking. I want to pull her into me. I want to hold her and tell her that everything is going to be okay. I can’t do that here. Instead, I nod my head at the priest, urging him to begin. The sooner we get this over with, the better. I want Antonia to be my wife.
Would I prefer her to want it too?Of course.She loved me once. She can love me again.
I don’t pay much attention to the ceremony until it’s time for the vows.
“Antonia, repeat after me,” the priest says. “I, Antonia Marciano, take you, Carlo Bianchi, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer. In sickness and health, until death do us part.”
I should be worried about the way her lips tip up at the mention of death. I don’t care. If she really wanted me dead, I’d already be dead.
“Now, Carlo, repeat after me.” The priest looks in my direction. I slip the gold band on to Antonia’s finger. Diamonds sparkle along the surface.
Maintaining eye contact, I repeat the vows to her, meaning every single one—not that she believes them.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the priest announces and cheers erupt from the crowd.
My arm snakes around Antonia’s waist, and I pull her body flush against mine. Well, as flush as I can with the huge-ass dress she’s wearing. “I didn’t tell you, but you look fucking beautiful,” I whisper before slamming my lips down on hers for the first time in years.
When we pull apart, Antonia is breathless and glaring at me. “I hope you enjoyed that, because it’s the last time you will ever touch me.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Mrs. Bianchi.” Taking hold of her hand, I lift both of our arms in the air as we turn to face our guests.
My eyes catch on Jazzy. She’s smiling but looking at my new bride with suspicion.
“Hold on,” I tell Antonia, dropping her hand. I step over to Jazzy, bending down to whisper in her ear. “You’re still my number one girl, remember?” Then I kiss the top of her head. “Charlotte and Emmanuel are going to take you home. Lailani will be there until I get back.”
“Okay, you look really nice, Carlo,” Jazzy says.
“Thanks, sweetheart, so do you.”
I stand up and walk back over to Antonia, who is staring at me with a lot of unspoken questions swimming in her eyes. I grab her hand and lead her down the aisle and out to the waiting limo.
“Who’s the kid?” she asks once we’re closed inside.
“Jazzy.” I draw my phone out of my pocket and pretend to make a call. I know it’s an ass move, but I don’t want to tell Antonia about my daughter before the party.Thatis a conversation for later, when we’re alone and don’t have to put on fake smiles and pleasantries.
“I want separate bedrooms,” Antonia says when the car pulls up to the Royal Flush, where our reception is being hosted.
“I’m sure you do.” I smirk as I pocket my phone again.Not fucking happening.
Chapter Six
Ididn’t have a single thing to do with planning this reception. That said, if I did, it would probably look exactly the same. I don’t know if it was my father or my new husband who told the party planner what to do or if maybe it’s just a coincidence.
I vaguely remember having a conversation with Carlo a long time ago about what my dream wedding would look like. And this room? It’s very similar to what I described. There is no wayhe’d remember that conversation, though. I think my brain is playing tricks on me, wanting me to believe something that just isn’t there.
