Page 34 of Enzo
Papà looked proud. Enzo not so much.Good.
My papà placed a soft kiss on my cheek before uttering in a serious tone, “I can still kill him, princess.”
“I’d like to see you try,” Enzo retorted dryly, taking my bouquet of roses, shoving them against his chest, and then clasping him on the shoulder. “And don’t worry, she’ll be screamingMarchettisoon enough.”
I gaped at him.
Jesus, the man was crazy, because if Papà had a gun on him, he would have surely pulled it out and shot him. Although, the way he clenched and unclenched his fist might suggest he wasn’t beyond strangling the man.
“It’s okay,” I assured, my voice barely a whisper. “Sit down and I’ll find you after.”
After my life sentence to this fucking devil was sealed. After I had an iron shackle around my finger.
I turned my head and narrowed my eyes on my soon-to-be husband.
“You’ll never own me.” I lifted on my toes and whispered, “And guess what? You’re not getting a virgin bride. I’ve given that to a better man.”
I couldn’t keep the victorious smile off my face as I met his bottomless eyes, but disappointment soon followed. My words didn’t have the impact I hoped for. Instead, his gaze held excitement and a flicker of admiration. Or was it desire?
“Really?” His voice was dangerously low.
“Y-yes.” Maybe bravery was for foolish people, but it was too late to backtrack now. Instead, I squared my shoulders and raised my chin, doing my best to appear nonchalant. “Besides, you’re not a virgin. So it’s only… fair.”
Dumb Ways to Dieplayed on repeat in my mind while I held my breath, waiting for the backlash. None came.
“Let’s get this over with.” Enzo’s arm came around my waist and ushered me up the last few steps to the altar. “Start,” he barked at the priest.
12
ENZO
Her deep blue eyes met mine, her smile cold and her glare even more so. She was fucking breathtaking and wore defiance like that crimson dress. Like she was born to wear it. The lace in front barely reached her mid-thighs while the back featured a two-foot train, which she dragged begrudgingly across the church floor.
The tastefully risqué dress was unorthodox, but it didn’t piss me off in the least. Rather, it made me want to bend her over this altar and take her in front of God and all the saints.
How in the fuck was I supposed to make it through this ceremony and reception when she was wearingthat?
She might have been over a decade younger than me, but she kept her head high, appearing confident and strong. Wiser than her years might suggest. Her clammy, trembling hands were the only thing betraying her.
You’re not getting a virgin bride. I’ve given that to a better man.
Her words rang in my mind as the priest blabbed on, and the corner of my lips lifted. Penelope thought she was smug, but shewas playing a losing game. I would own all her firsts and lasts, no matter how hard she resisted me.
“Did you prepare your vows?” the priest asked, his eyes darting between the two of us.
“Yes.”
“No,” my bride answered at the same time. She flashed me a sickly sweet smile and continued. “We’ll do our vows away from prying eyes and curious ears. Enzo stutters when he’s nervous.”
That little minx.
“My bride is shy,” I hissed. “But don’t you worry, Father, she’ll be screaming her vows tonight.”
The priest’s eyes widened and his mouth moved like that of a fish out of water. It took him several tries to finally get himself together and continue the ceremony, finally asking the most important question.
“Do you, Enzo Marchetti, take Penelope DiMauro to be your wedded wife? To love and to cherish until death do you part?”
I answered without hesitation. “I do.”
