Page 52 of Marrying the Mobster
I gape at him in silence while wondering if I heard him correctly. “You … want to walkmedown the aisle?”
He laughs and the loud, boisterous sound draws stares from Camila and Marcella. Oleg lowers his voice so they can’t overhear. “I am not a man to hold a grudge,dorogoy. Diego was presented with a choice, and you were what he wanted. Who am I to stand in the way of that? He is like a son to me, you know. His father … well, Diego has been without him since he was a boy. I have been there to watch him grow into a strong man. I am proud to see him taking the first step toward starting a family of his own.”
I get a weird feeling in my stomach at Oleg’s mention of family and the reminder that Diego doesn’t want children. My new birth control is an implant, so I won’t have to worry about pills. Diego seemed relieved to know that.
“While I wish he had done it with my Nataly, I can’t begrudge his happiness,” Oleg continues. “You love each other,da?”
“Yes,” I say, the lie slipping easier off my tongue than usual. I’m getting better at this. “Very much.”
“Then I am happy for you. Now … will you allow me to give you away? It would be my honor.”
I don’t even have to think about my answer. Being a part of this world—even as a prisoner—has taught me that mafia men are a lot like politicians. There’s a lot of ass-kissing and palm-greasing that goes on, and staying in another boss’s good graces can mean the difference between harmony and bloodshed. I don’t need to be told that being Diego’s wife means I have a role in keeping these men happy.
“I’m the one who would be honored,” I tell him with a forced smile. “Thank you for offering.”
Oleg grins, and looks genuinely happy that I accepted his offer. It makes me think that his affection for Diego is deeper than I thought. Maybe he really is happy, thinking that Diego is marrying for love. How long before that illusion crumbles and he is disappointed?
I can’t think of that now, because Camila hands me my bouquet of white and baby blue roses and smooths a non-existent wrinkle in my dress.
It’s time.
23
Diego
Considering I never wanted to get married, my wedding day turns out to be more enjoyable than I expected. While standing at the altar next to Jovan, waiting for Elena to appear, I feel like I’m on display. The church is filled from wall to wall with members of both the Pérez and the Yezhov cartels, along with old friends of my parents, various business contacts, and a handful of Elena’s family and friends. It’s hard to stand still, even though I’m used to being gawked at. Something is different about this. Everything is different. Everything is about to change.
Jovan leans close just as the wedding processional starts to play and the double doors swing open to reveal Marcella walking in on Jaime’s arm. “Nervous,jefe?”
I clench my teeth and keep my eyes on that door, waiting for my bride to appear. “No.”
Nothing could be farther from the truth, but it’s not marriage that scares me. It’s the idea of perpetuating the sins of my parents. It’s Elena being in danger. It’s the realization that I’m starting to care about her, and anything I care about can be used to destroy me. Anything I love can be ripped away.
I push the fear aside and stand tall while Camila walks down the aisle alone, beaming proudly to lead the way for her sister. Fear isn’t new to me. I was forged in it; I learned to adapt and conquer it. I won’t let it take Elena away from me. I can have her and keep my empire, and nothing has to change. Elena will have more freedom, and maybe we can learn to get along. Everything else will go on as before.
The moment Elena appears in the frame of the double doors, my mind goes silent. All my worries, all the things I haven’t figured out yet … it all fades. She’s a fucking goddess, floating toward me all wrapped in lace and silk with flowers in her hands. Her face is serene and naturally made up, and my grandmother’s pearls seem to take their glow from her skin. She reminds me of a bride at a royal wedding, her head held high, her tiara sparkling in the lights, her dignity on full display.
I don’t take a breath until she joins me at the altar, accepting the hand I offer. From there, the ceremony seems to go by in the blink of an eye. Elena is calm and steady, her voice clear when she says her vows, her hands steady as she accepts the ring I slip on her finger. At the sight of the massive, princess-cut solitaire I chose for her, her eyes go wide and she looks at me in disbelief. I give her a little smile while she slips on my plain gold band, then wink. I know she wasn’t expecting such a ring, but I was motivated by a need to give Elena what I can. When I took her, it wasn’t with plans to keep her forever. Life with me wasn’t something she wanted, but I can make sure it’s comfortable for her—maybe even enjoyable.
With a kiss and the resulting communion, the deed is done. Elena is my wife.
We smile while facing our guests, who applaud as if having watched an elaborate stage play. In reality that’s exactly what they’ve witnessed.
Elena and I spend the rest of the day making our encore performance. There’s very little time for a break before we have to greet our guests in the ballroom; no time for me and Elena to be alone. We go on performing through the reception, raising our glasses for toasts, making small talk with our guests, and hitting the dance floor.
During our first dance, I lean in close to her ear. “You’re holding up well,gatita.”
She scoffs a dry laugh. “I’m wearing flats. If I was going to have to spend my day in petticoats, I wasnotgoing to force myself into heels.”
“Smart girl,” I murmur, pressing my lips to the side of her neck. She shivers, her hand tightening on my arm as I twirl her around the floor. “Are you going to let me help you out of those petticoats tonight?”
Tension starts winding through her like a spring, and that familiar heat flares between us. She turns her head to look at me, one eyebrow raised. “Only if, after you’re done, you get down on your knees and kiss my ass.”
With a chuckle, I nuzzle my nose against hers. “I’d do more than kiss it if given half the chance.”
She’s not so full of sarcasm now, her mouth falling open as she stares back at me. I stroke my fingertips down her spine, tracing what seems like an endless row of white buttons.
“You wouldn’t have to let me inside you if you don’t want. I won’t press the issue. But it’s your wedding day, and the bride deserves to be treasured. Let me treasure you,gatita… with my hands … my mouth …”
