Page 152 of Brutal Heir
Mrs. Rossi.
I can’t quite believe it myself. I’m not even certain our marriage is completely legal given the amount of pain medication I was on when I said ‘I do’ from that hospital bed.
There was no aisle. No music. No bouquet.
But he was there, and I’d never been more sure of anything in my life.
The priest clears his throat gently. “Are you ready?”
I glance up at Alessandro. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days because he hasn’t. But his eyes are clear when they meet mine. Steady. Fierce. The kind of look that makes it impossible to feel anything but safe, even when you’re in a hospital gown with fresh stitches beneath your ribs.
“I’m ready,” I whisper.
He reaches for my hand, careful of the IV. His fingers are rough and warm, anchoring me. He nods to the priest.
“I have my vows,” he says, voice low.
The priest gives a soft nod. “Go ahead, son.”
Alessandro shifts closer, one knee resting on the edge of the mattress. He looks at me like I’m something holy. Something he almost lost.
“I never thought I’d get to do this,” he begins, voice tight. “Not because I didn’t want to, but because I didn’t think I deserved it. I was broken and angry, and bitter as all hell. But then you showed up. Red hair, reckless mouth, no sense of self-preservation.” He huffs a breath, almost a laugh. “You didn’t see a monster. You saw me and you stayed. Even when I was a total fecker. Even when it would’ve been easier to walk away and leave me to my misery.”
His grip tightens slightly around my fingers.
“I vow to love you in the quiet and the chaos. To protect you with everything I have. Even when you’re the one throwing yourself in front of bullets. I vow to choose you. Every day. In every lifetime.” He pauses. “You are my redemption, Rory. And I am so goddamn lucky to be yours.”
I swallow hard. God, I love this man. My throat burns worse than my stitches, and I squeeze his hand back. “Okay,” I rasp, blinking fast. “My turn.”
I take a breath, ignoring the sharp ache in my side.
“I didn’t believe in fate before you,” I begin. “But then I met your cousins, and they steered me to you. You crashed into my life like a wrecking ball made of shadows and scars, and suddenly, everything made sense. You are the storm that shook me awake. The fire that burned away everything else. And I love you, not in spite of your darkness, Ale, but because of it. Because you fight every day to be more than what circumstances made you.”
His eyes shine. He blinks hard.
“I vow to be your peace when the weight is too much. To remind you of who you are when you forget. I vow to fight for us, to stand beside you even when the world tells me to run. And I vow that this love, our love, will never be something you have to earn. You already have it. All of it.”
I exhale shakily. “You are my home. And I will never stop coming back to you.”
The priest waits a moment, respectful of the silence wrapping around us like silk. “Do you, Alessandro Marco Rossi, take Rory Brigid O’Shea to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
His voice doesn’t tremble. “I do.” He says it with such certainty my breath hitches.
“And do you, Rory Brigid O’Shea, take Alessandro Marco Rossi to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
“I do,” I whisper.
“Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss?—”
But Alessandro’s lips are already on mine.
He kisses me like he’s breathing for the first time. Gentle, reverent, a hand cradling my face like I’m breakable and beloved all at once. I feel the heat of him, the strength, the promise.
He pulls back just enough to whisper against my lips. “You’re mine now.”
I smile.
“Wasn’t I always?”
