Page 151 of Savage Saint
My breath catches. "Butterfly—"
"After," she promises, her thumb tracing my bottom lip. "After, I'm yours completely."
"You already are," I growl.
"Then prove it, husband."
The word 'husband' from her lips sends heat straight through me. Before I can respond, Arrow's voice cuts through the moment.
"Save it for the honeymoon, lovebirds! We have a wedding to conduct!"
We make our way downstairs,where Marco is indeed already emotional, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief.
"Angelo!" He pulls me into a crushing hug. "I can't believe you're getting married! I just can't!"
"Marco, you're going to wrinkle his suit," Mel says, but she's smiling, her own eyes suspiciously bright.
"Let him wrinkle it," I say, surprising myself. "Some things are more important than perfect suits."
Marco pulls back, tears streaming freely now. "This is the most amazing day and—"
"Alright," Arrow interrupts, all business. "Time to head up. Angelo, lead the way to this mysterious rooftop you've been hiding."
I guide them to the narrow staircase hidden between the bookshelves. "Watch your heads."
"Secret passages," Arrow murmurs approvingly. "Very Gothic romance."
The rooftop takes my breath away when we emerge. Someone—Kasia and Alessa, I'm guessing—has transformed it. White roses frame the pool's edge, their petals catching the afternoon light. The pool itself has been covered with a thick glass panel, turning it into a floor, with chairs arranged on either side. At the far end, facing the mountains, stands a simple arch woven with more white flowers.
Candles in hurricane glasses dot every surface, their flames dancing in the gentle breeze. The mountains stretch endlesslybeyond, and below, Blackwood spreads out like a glittering promise covered in white mist. The scent of roses mingles with the faint trace of gunpowder that always clings to my hands. Even here, even now, I am who I am.
"It's perfect," I breathe.
"Of course it is," Arrow says. "We don't do anything halfway."
Dante takes his position at the arch, looking every inch the don even as his eyes soften watching Alessa fuss with the last details.
"Ready?" Luca asks, clapping me on the shoulder.
I think about Kasia downstairs. About the first time I saw her in that container, broken but not beaten. About every moment since, the fear, the trust, the desire, the understanding.
"I've been ready since the moment I found her," I admit.
Marco starts crying harder. "That's so beautiful!"
"Here," Mel hands him a fresh handkerchief. "You're going to need this."
We take our positions. Me at the arch with Dante. Luca and Alessa flanking us. Arrow near the stairs with their phone ready. Marco, Antonio and Mel in the front row, Marco already working through his second handkerchief.
Then I hear footsteps on the stairs.
My heart actually stops.
Kasia emerges onto the rooftop like something out of a dream. The simple silk dress flows around her like water, ivory against her pale skin. No veil, no elaborate styling—just Kasia with her red hair loose around her shoulders, catching fire in the setting sun. The candlelight makes her hair look like a living flame, dangerous and stunning all at once.
She's never looked more beautiful.
Not because of the dress or the setting, but because of the way she looks at me. Like I'm her anchor. Her home. Her choice.
