Page 33 of Tragic Empire
Cassio
Standing at the makeshift altar in our family’s garden, my mind whirls with worries for my bride. Ana has remained strong for most of the day, keeping her head held high and hiding the anguish in her eyes. But less than twenty minutes ago, she confided in me that she was barely hanging on. She was so vulnerable in that moment, and all I wanted to do was scoop her up and shield her from any more possible harm.
The woman has been through enough in the past two days to last a lifetime. Grief is a vicious beast, especially when you’re young and have no family to help you shoulder the burden. I hope my words of encouragement were enough to keep her steady until the end of our wedding—for both of our sakes. I very much doubt she wants a crowd to see her cry, and I certainly don’t want rumors of a forced union to spread.
We’ve been set up for success, at least. My father had an entire team of workers turn the garden into a scenic wedding venue fit for Vogue, and the amount of guards surrounding the property could rival most high-security prisons in the country. We’ll have no outside interference, and the pictures that will come out of this evening will be whispered about for years to come. I can hear the gossiping society murmurs already.
Did you see the secret Moretti wedding?
I was almost invited, you know?
It was so beautiful! A shame they didn’t invite more people…
Positive chatter will help keep heavy suspicion from clouding this arrangement, but it means nothing more than that. Anyone who knows me and Ana well enough to be concerned is already clued in. The rest of the mafia world will have a glimpse, but they’ll never trulysee.
Shaking out of my over-analyzing state, I try to focus on the present.
The stone arch behind me is wrapped with flowers and vines in various shades of blue that permeate the air with a delicate scent. Since the afternoon sun has descended from its peak height, there’s a faint chill in the air. A light breeze dances around the wedding space, touching every guest like a friendly greeting.
Most of the white chairs facing me are filled with family. My brothers, a few of their friends, high ranking Outfit members and their spouses, along with a few extra editions. Gerard is seated on Ana’s side of the aisle, flanked by Dustin and Colton. Armani chooses to sit with his friend as well.
Apollo, on the other hand, is located to my left, standing in as my best man. If I wasn’t going to surprise the family with the blood ceremony, I might have asked Leon to be by my side. Hell, had this been a planned out event, I might have a few more of my brothers up here as well. But for what I need, Apollo is my best option.
He’s also the most fearsome brother I have, and if there are any spies watching us somehow, I want them to remember that Ana isn’t just marrying Cassio Moretti. She’s marrying Apollo Moretti’s brother.
“Look alive,” he mutters under his breath. “Your girl is coming.”
My posture straightens immediately at his warning. My eyes follow the length of the simple aisle—a narrow strip of mowed grass covered with a creamy white cloth.
Instead of the traditional bridal chorus signaling the arrival of the bride, a rendition of Beethoven’sMoonlight Sonatabegins to softly play. Only seconds after the music begins, Ana appears.
I have to school my expression to keep my eyes from flaring open wide. Her dress is molded to her frame like it was custom-made for her, and though there is not a hint of sparkle to the material, she isglowing.
Jade walks arm and arm with her, guiding her down the path to me like a father normally would—yet I barely glance at my sister. My eyes are firmly set on my bride. I shouldn’t find her to be such a fascinating sight. After all, I saw her not long ago, but she didn’t look likethis.
Ana’s eyes meet mine, and her chest rises with an intake of air. A silent message passes between us, an offering of mutual courage. We’re in this together, and she has me to lean on.
In a matter of leisurely seconds, the two women stop walking. Jade presses a light kiss to Ana’s cheek and takes her hand to pass it to me. My future wife’s eyes don’t leave mine the entire time, and she wraps her fingers around my hand tight. I use our connection to help her make her last step, giving her a small supportive smile.
As we face one another, the priest settles behind us.
“Dearly beloved,” he begins, voice clear and practiced. “We are gathered here today under the eyes of God, to join together this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. Marriage is a sacred covenant, which should be entered into reverently. You are here to bear witness to this loving union.”
He looks to Ana and me. “Please, join hands, so we may begin.”
“I’m sorry, Father Benedict,” I tell him, attempting to sound genuine. “I’m afraid that my brother will be stepping in now.”
You could hear a pin drop following my statement. Even the wind seems to halt, bated breaths being held all around us.
“Of course,” he replies. Despite the wide-eyed look of shock on his face, he’d never deny a Moretti’s word. Without another word, he steps away, disappearing into the crowd.
I can feel the gazes of every Moretti in the room, but I do not return them. I’m sure I’ll be fielding their reactions later, but I won’t entertain their collective surprise until my bond is fully forged. My eldest brother slips into the priest’s place, no prompting needed to get him there. He knows there is only one reason I would send Father Benedict away before reciting vows.
“The blade,” I request, holding out a hand.
Apollo lifts a brow as if to ask me if I’m sure, but he doesn’t refuse me. Slipping his hand into his jacket’s inner pocket, he carefully extracts the ceremonial knife. As our family’s heir, he’s required to carry it during any and all Moretti weddings—just in case.
Holding the silver blade by its textured hilt, he keeps the tip pointed toward the ground. Without missing a beat, he opens his mouth to recite his lines.
