Page 133 of Hostile Love
It curves over the top of Tomás’ head and matches the flower decoration pinned to his lapel.
A few wooden chairs are set out, occupied by Teresa, her bodyguard, the nanny Lola, Dante, and a woman whose skin is whiter than snow.
She has tiny purple flowers nestled in wild red curls, and a baby boy clambers from her lap onto Dante.
It’s an intimate gathering of the people closest to the couple. A modest venue without the pomp, elaborate bullshit, and media coverage expected of a billionaire cartel boss.
But it doesn't make the ceremony any less meaningful.
This is all they need––their family––and each other.
However, I’m not interested in any of it. Not when I lock eyes with my man.
His chestnut gaze drills into me and a devilish grin dimples his cheek. It’s a seductive, charming smile that makes the engagement ring on my finger tingle and my heart race.
He stands in line beside his brothers and little Leo, all of them in position to officially welcome Carina into their family.
They wear matching beige suits, fresh linen shirts, and tan dress shoes.
At every wedding, the groom stands out from the crowd, however, the only man I see is Matheus.
I’ve long forgotten the pain of my injuries and a decade old vendetta. It’s weird to have something else on my mind.
To have freedom from my nightmares.
After last night, I’m thrilled with the woman I’m becoming. It gives me chills. For the first time ever, I’m looking forward to my future because he’s in it.
Matheus’ presence fills every flower filled corner and his unwavering attention hits me right in the chest.
My cheeks flush and a rush of heat pinks my cleavage, quickly spreading to my throat.
I can’t hide it.
Not even when I purposely drop my gaze to my pumps. Thing is though, he knows exactly what he does to me, too. And right now, I know he’s fingering that sexy dark hair of his to keep his hands off me.
To stop himself from stepping forward and misbehaving. Everyone here appreciates this is Carina’s day.
When I catch his gaze, his clean-shaven jaw ticks the closer I get to him. His irises flame and he takes a deep breath.
I pull my shoulders back and lift my chin, appearing full of confidence. I’m in love with the man. That doesn’t make me a wilting wallflower.
Reaching the bridal party, I take a left, veering away from the aisle.
When Sinéad and India take their seats, leaving space for their husbands, I do the same and save the seat next to me for Matheus.
Sitting here feels both weird and wonderful at the same time. The girl inside of me enjoys having a front-row seat, wearing a fancy dress, whereas the nondescript assassin within me craves to disappear into the background.
“Dani…” India whispers. “Do you want a big wedding or something private like this?”
“Something small,” I mutter, certain of that one thing.
My pulse thrums. I stare over at Matheus as he hunkers to Leo’s level and speaks. Watching the animation on his face and how he plays with the kid––well, it makes my fucking womb ache.
That, however, would have to be a hard no. I’m a contract killer. A cold-blooded murderer.
Babies are not on the horizon.
I take a beat to consider how my blood isn’t exactly as icy as it used to be. Especially when I hear Matheus chuckle, followed by Leo’s cute laughter.
