Page 31 of My Solemn Vow
I can’t take my eyes off her. Somehow, I’ve become transfixed on the human I’m being forced to accept.
I step slightly to the side to keep my eyes on her as Gregorio D’Medici and his consigliere leave her to navigate on her own.
Her head is bowed, watching where she walks rather than owning the space around her.
Antonella is accompanied, not escorted, up the three smallsteps of the church, raising the hem of her dress in one hand to allow herself to step up each of the stairs.
Neither man holds the door open for her.
Maybe it’s that I’m already angry, but that lack of action heats like coals stoked to a roaring fire of hatred.
Antonella D’Medici may be the niece of my sworn enemy... but she’s also my daughter’s savior. That counts for some loyalty.Enough for her to be treated better than that.
She takes us in with her brown eyes, flecked with the gold of autumn leaves, clear and bright but wary. I hadn’t put much thought into what she’d look like, but my father wasn’t lying. She is beautiful. Heart-stoppingly so. A calm washes over me when we lock eyes.
I shake my head and shoulders, trying to brush the feeling off. She could be a wolf in sheep’s clothing for all I know.
“Are you ready to take custody of the disgrace?” Gregorio D’Medici asks me. His disgusted half snarl reflects his perpetually ill state. “I’m sure you’re not very happy that Toni has ruined your personal vendetta. It’s not too late to kill her and call off the truce.”
Toni?I hate this asshole. I hate him more than I hate having to adjust how I’ll kill him and his filthy son. This truce won’t change the fact that, if they’re guilty, I’ll find a way to kill the two of them. It just means I’ll no longer be putting their heads on a spike in their own front lawns after I do it.
Ignoring his taunts, I extend my hand to Antonella, not as if to shake, but flat for her to rest her hand within mine.
Gregorio wants to make a show of being a dick to her, then I’ll make a show of possessing her like she’s a prize. This may be a truce, but nothing says she can’t be the spoils of war. I’ll just have to tread carefully to ensure she’s not a Trojan horse.
My heart flutters, and we lock eyes again. She doesn’t wear a long veil. Rather it’s one of those small hats with tulle or something that’s customary for mourners. A suit is a suit, but somewomen dream of the day they get married. The dress and dancing, food, cake. But there’ll be none of that because our wedding will be celebrated graveside. There’s a curiosity to it.
Did Antonella mourn having to wear black on her wedding day? Better yet, why do I care?
Antonella puts her hand in mine. It’s cold, and I resist the urge to shrug out of my jacket to offer her warmth.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
With her proximity, I inhale a bright citrus scent layered with something lightly sweet and floral.
I clear my throat and lead her two steps closer to Father Michael.
He nods and leads us up the stairs into the main portion of the church, down the central aisle, and to the altar, where he stops before God.
“Formalities’ sake.” Father Michael looks between me and my new bride but focuses on her. “You are here of your own free will?”
“Yes.” She gives one single nod.
Her voice is strong in volume but hollow in quality, like a well-loved tavern after the bar closes.
Antonella’s eyes are constantly moving, assessing her uncles and the Cavanaghs around her. If I couldn’t hear her deliberately slow, steady breaths, I’d think she was poised, but they’re there, their shallowness helping her steel herself.
My wolf catches the scent of fear and looks for the cause. But I’m not concerned. I’d worry if she was oblivious to the threats in the room.
Father Michael sweeps his gaze to me, and I debate the truth, but there’s no way I’m letting the D’Medicis see that I wasn’t involved in this.
“Yes.”
Back on Antonella, Father Michael asks, “Do you, Antonella D’Medici, take Valor Cavanagh to be your husband?”
I don’t take my eyes off her, holding eye contact. Neither of us wants to be here, but it’s born of necessity. Our fates are intertwined now. Would either of us be willing to risk the truce for the sake of bloodshed?
Antonella doesn’t answer right away. It’s as if she’s giving me a calculated once-over. There isn’t fear or sadness in her eyes. She’s almost too calm to be marrying the heir to a bloody empire. Whatever she sees in me, it’s enough.
