Page 143 of Matteo
“Please read them out loud.”
I looked back at the paper and sighed, my hand twitching with the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose.
“In the presence of God, I take this man to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, until death do us part.” I shook my head. “Matteo, this is?—”
“I take this woman to be my wife, promising to care for her, love her, and protect her until the end of time.”
I blinked up at him. “Seriously, Matteo. Maybe you should see a psychiatrist, because this is getting out of hand.”
He completely ignored me and looked over his shoulder, just as a man wearing a cassock stepped into my line of vision.
“Does that work, Father?” Matteo asked, tension rolling off his body in waves.
“It does.” The man smiled as his gaze flitted to me, full of guilt or pity, I wasn’t sure, and as he turned, disappearing from view, I heard his words. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Vitale.”
Did he just?—
No, it couldn’t be.
In stunned silence, my heart smashed into pieces all around me. Yet, a part of me still refused to believe the boy I’d known almost my whole life would do something like this.
“What did you do?” I breathed.
Matteo didn’t give me a chance to ask again before he crashed his lips against mine, devouring me while his hand around my neck kept me in place. Not that I fought him.
Time paused. The universe stopped turning. Every thought dispersed as Matteo’s mouth ravaged mine. He thrust his tongue inside, his grip on my neck tightening, and soon, I was kissing him with the same desperation.
Clash of teeth. Twist of tongues. Moans and groans.
He was claiming me, reminding me I’d always belonged to him. And I just couldn’t fight him. He kissed me hard, feasting on me like a starved man.
My hips rolled against his hard muscles, my pussy aching. I needed to touch his skin and feel his warmth under myfingertips. I reached for his tie, my hands fumbling with it and tugging on it desperately.
“You and I… We were always meant to be,” he growled, breathing heavily. “There’s nobody else for me.”
It was exactly the reminder I needed.
Planting both palms on his chest, I pushed him away, his hand falling down the side of his body.
“No. This—whatever that was”—I waved my hand in the direction of the long-gone priest—“is not legal. It’s not real.”
He smiled harshly. “I assure you. It’s very real, wife.”
My mouth opened, closed, and opened again, yet I couldn’t find the words.
“Our marriage will be announced in every paper and website around the world,” he finally said. His eyes found mine as he fixed the tie I had so shamelessly tugged on mere moments ago. “Now, it’s time for our honeymoon.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
MATTEO
Arianna and I were at a standstill.
She’d shut me down completely since I forced our marriage—hadn’t said a word to me or even acknowledged my presence since we got to this snow-covered island with only a few hours of daylight. Which should be our honeymoon paradise, not the cold, lonely prison she insists on making it.
We’d been in this limbo of silence and cold shoulders for weeks. It certainly made for long, lonely nights.
So I resorted to writing her letters. Nikola would laugh his head off if he got wind of all these love letters scattered across my desk.
