Page 155 of Brutal Heir
Papàshoots him the finger across the room.
Serena groans. “Of course you did it first. You couldn’t let us have one moment?”
“We’re still engaged,” Antonio whispers, squeezing his fiancée’s hand, “and getting married soon. Relax,amore.”
“They just stole my thunder like absolute heathens.” She tosses me a wicked grin.
“Oh, come on, Sere,” Matteo calls out from across the room. “You’ll still get your six bridal showers and the traditional three-day wedding feast.”
“And you’ll still demand a plus-one or three for every single event,” Serena fires back, eyes twinkling.
Matteo winks across the room at me and raises his glass. “Now it’s just me and the espresso machine, baby.” But his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He and Alessia are the only single ones left from the core cousin crew. Until a second ago, I was certain the life of a bachelor was all Matty wanted, but maybe we’re all finally growing up.
I glance at Rory. She’s glowing. Not with makeup or the diamonds on her finger, but with something quieter. Something that comes from being accepted and part of a real family. Messy, chaotic but real.
“We’re planning a party,” I announce. “Big. Loud. Champagne everywhere. So you can all celebrate it the right way.”
Matteo pumps a fist. “Do I get to DJ?”
“No,” a chorus of voices answer at once.
Laughter erupts again. Glasses are raised. Uncle Nico disappears into the kitchen muttering about popping a bottle of something expensive.
And through it all, Rory’s hand never leaves mine.
Mapushes her way through the crowd and stops in front of Rory, eyes sharp and shining. She eyes me with a warning glint. “You get one surprise wedding, Alessandro. Just one.” Then she turns to Rory, and I hold my breath. “You saved my son,” she murmurs, voice thick. “You gave him something none of us could. His heart. His future. His peace.”
Rory’s breath catches. “I just... I couldn’t let him go down without a fight.”
Macups her face, nodding solemnly. “Then you are ours,bao bèi.Forever.”
My jaw nearly unhinges at my mom’s words.Treasure. It was what her grandfather used to call her. A term of endearment I’ve only ever heard her use for Alessia or me.
Rory’s eyes go glassy. She nods, wordless, and I wrap an arm around her, tucking her into my side. Where she’ll stay forever.
The family explodes into a dozen more conversations, but none of them matter.
Rory is mine. And finally, she’s theirs, too.
Six weeks since that hospital room. Since her blood soaked my hands. Since the moment I nearly lost her and vowed I never would again.
Six weeks since I put that emerald ring on her finger and heard the only word that’s ever mattered spill from her lips:yes.
And tonight, she’s mine in every way.
The echo of laughter fades down the hallway as the front door finally slams shut. Matteo’s voice calls out something crude, probably about us christening our bedroom as newlyweds. I don’t care. I don’t even respond. I turn the deadbolt, twist the lock, and press my forehead to the door, exhaling slowly.
We’re alone. At last.
I turn, and there she is.
Barefoot. Hair wild from dancing. Still in her dress, simple, elegant, the kind of green that sets her eyes aglow. The bodice clings to her curves, and her cheeks are pink from champagne and laughter.
But it’s her eyes that kill me. Soft. Liquid. Full of want and love and the kind of trust I never believed I’d deserve.
“Hiya,” she says, voice quiet.
My throat works. “Hi.”
