Page 81 of Thorns of Death
“When you’re ready, you may say your vows.” The priest’s voice sliced through my thoughts.
His eyes found Enrico first, who didn’t even hesitate and started to recite his vows in a clear, deep voice, although he kept it surprisingly low.
“I, Enzo Lucian Marchetti, take you, Isla Evans, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I promise to honor you for the rest of my days.”
I inhaled a sharp breath.Enzo? What the hell? Why was he using a different name, and why did it sound familiar? I had heard it before, I was certain of it. But where? My brain refused to cooperate, although that could be from all these words the priest was reciting. Jesus, was this a Catholic mass or Orthodox one? The latter went on and on until you found yourself asleep and snoring in the pew. Although the former one wasn’t exciting either, there was a lot of “sit, stand, kneel,” so dozing off was impossible.
The priest cleared his throat and pulled my attention from the piece of information that continued to bounce around my brain.
I swallowed, then started reciting my own vows.Fake vows, of course. “I, Isla Evans, take you, Enrico—” The priest cleared his throat.
“Enzo Lucian Marchetti,” the priest chimed in to correct me. I didn’t like this. Hearing that name again made my mind tickle with a memory that refused to come forward.
“—to be my husband. I promise to be true and faithful to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. For the rest of my life.”
Shit, I actually said the words. Everything about this moment felt way too real. What was I getting myself into?
The priest smiled and gave his full focus to Enrico. “Do you, Enzo Lucian Marchetti, take Isla Evans to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
“I do.” There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his voice. His eyes flashed with satisfaction, probably thinking he had me trapped. Or counting on me not to call him out on this fraudulent affair. He was even using a fake name. That in itself had to nullify this whole thing. Right?
The priest’s attention moved to me. “Do you, Isla Evans, take Enzo Lucian Marchetti to be your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”
I felt all eyes on me while the wheels in my mind kept turning. It was right there, if only everyone would shut up, back off and let methink.
“Miss Evans?” the priest urged, rushing my answer. I shifted on my feet and felt Enrico’s grip tighten around my fingers.
“I do.” The breathless words escaped my lips without my permission.
Manuel stepped forward with the rings, allowing the priest to bless them before handing me mine. How convenient he had everything—-the dress, the rings, the priest, the church. He was a well-prepared man.
Enrico—Enzo?—I was confused on what to call him now—took my hand and said, “I give this ring as a sign of our union and faithfulness in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
I stared in my dazed state as he placed the beautiful vintage ring with emeralds and diamonds around the band onto my finger, the cold metal sending shivers through me. The ring was a perfect fit.
When it was my turn, my hand shook so badly, it took me several tries to slip the band onto his finger.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Before I could even process the words, Enrico cupped my face in his hands and took my mouth.
Hard. Possessive.
His tongue invaded my mouth. I tried to pull away, but he refused to be deterred. He held my jaw, his mouth working me until I began kissing him back. My body softened, leaning into him, and all my reason went out the church.
It would seem I was unable to resist this man. Fraud or not. Cheater or not.
Much to my dismay.
TWENTY-SEVEN
ENRICO
Imarried her in the church, binding her to me for eternity.
Manuel snapped a few photos of our wedding and would ensure the world of Omertà learned she was mine. Isla looked dazed, following along, oddly complacent. It made me suspicious.
“Are you our stepmom now?” Amadeo blurted out.
