Standing beside me on the steps leading up to the altar, Declan glances at me so many times from the corner of his eye, I’m getting annoyed.
I try to keep my voice as low as possible because there are four hundred bloody people staring at me. “Stop that, for fuck’s sake. I’m solid.”
He smooths a hand down the front of his tux and smiles at our audience. A woman on the bride’s side of the aisle near the front smiles back coyly and starts to fan herself with the wedding program.
Barely moving his lips, he murmurs, “Aye? As solid as you were last night during dinner when you were acting like a mute gorilla? Or as solid as you’ve been all morning, wearing a face like you’ve got a date with a firing squad?”
Through gritted teeth, I say, “Stop worrying about me.”
“It’s not you I’m worried about. It’s your blood pressure. You’re wired to the moon, and your head’s about to explode. I don’t want brains all over my tux.”
From Declan’s other side, Kieran leans in and whispers, “Ye do look a wee bit frightful, lad. Like maybe there’s ants in yer pants, nibblin’ on yer willy.”
“Thank you. Arsehole.”
The organ music sounds tinny and grating in my ears. The smell of flowers and women’s perfume is overpowering. I’m sweating in my tux, there’s a metallic taste on my tongue, and I could really use a stiff nip of scotch to settle my stomach.
I just have to get through the ceremony. Then I’ll be better. Then I can stop regretting the fuck out of this god-awful decision and get on with my bloody life.
Like every other man who gets married.
Except Declan. He doesn’t regret it for a second. He’d marry Sloane every day if he could, the mad bastard. She’s sitting in the front row on the groom’s side, beautiful and beaming like one of Raphael’s Madonnas, making all the other women around her look like dowdy pensioners.
Only Reyna could eclipse her.
Reyna with her scarlet lips and acid tongue and body that men and gods would gladly die for. Reyna with her tender heart and easy lies.
Reyna who I’m not fucking thinking about.
Again.
Forcing the thought of her from my mind, I concentrate on the row of stained glass windows lining one side of the sanctuary. It immediately makes me think of the stained glass windows at Reyna’s house, so I change my focus to the restless crowd.
My gaze lands on an unfamiliar woman sitting on the aisle about half a dozen rows back. She’s wearing a navy-blue dress with a pattern of pretty flowers that are the exact pale greenish-gray shade of Reyna’s mermaid eyes.
I’m so fucked.
When the music changes to the bride’s processional, I’m relieved at the distraction.
My relief lasts about two seconds, until Declan says, “Why are they playing this? It’s the wrong music. The matron of honor is supposed to come down before the bride.”
He’s right. That’s how we rehearsed it last night. Reyna should walk down the aisle before Lili and Gianni and take her place opposite the groom and groomsmen on the steps of the altar. Then “Here Comes the Bride” starts, which is everyone’s signal to stand. Then the bride comes down the aisle, arm in arm with her father.
But there’s no Reyna. And there’s no Gianni.
Instead, walking slowly out alone from the narthex, is Lili. Wearing a lovely white gown and holding a bouquet of white flowers. A long lace veil obscures her face.
My first thought is that something bad has happened to Reyna. I know bloody well she’d never disappoint Lili by not showing up for the wedding, so whatever’s happened, it’s major.
My blooming panic stalls when Kieran whispers in confusion, “Is it just me, or did the wee lass grow a whopping pair of melons overnight?”
I peer more closely at the slowly approaching figure.
He’s right.
Those aren’t Lili’s tits.
That’s not her nipped waist, either, or her generous hips.
Lili has a girl’s figure. The person walking down the aisle has the full, dangerous curves of a woman.
My heart makes one final, painful squeeze inside my chest, then drops dead.
Declan says, “Sweet Mother Mary. Looks like there’s been a change of plans.”
Murmurs arise from the Italian side of the aisle. People are starting to whisper, rustling in their finery as they crane their necks and gawk at the bride passing by who they can obviously tell is the wrong one.
Everybody on the Irish side has confused looks, trying to figure out what’s happening.
“Spider? You want to tell me how we’re going to handle this?”
I’d answer Declan’s question, but I’m unable to speak. I’m blank with shock. My brain’s in a jumble, my ears are ringing, and my central nervous system can’t decide if it’s about to shut down altogether or burn through a lifetime of adrenaline reserves in the next ten seconds.
The only thing that’s working—big surprise—is my dick.
Watching Reyna walk toward me down the aisle in a wedding gown has me sprung so hard and so fast, it’s got to be some kind of goddamn erection record.
She gracefully passes the first row of pews, walks up onto the altar steps, and faces me. Behind the veil, she’s tense, unsmiling, and very beautiful.
The only thing that manages to make it past my lips is a hoarse “What the fuck?”
She says quietly, “You wanted a wife, Quinn. You got one.”
The murmurs from the guests grow louder. I sense things are about to get even more banjaxed than they already are.
So I turn to Declan and say, “Don’t let anyone move. I’ll be back in two minutes.”
I grab Reyna by the arm and pull her away.
She allows it without fighting me or saying a word. I stalk past the startled priest and across the chancel, headed toward the sacristy at the back. I yank open the door, pull Reyna through it, and slam the door shut behind me.
She backs up several steps until she hits the wall and can’t go any farther.
Surrounded by racks of priest’s vestments in the small, office-like room, we stare at each other in blistering silence.
I growl, “Start talking, viper. And whatever comes out of that mouth of yours better be the bloody truth.”
She licks her lips nervously. She inhales and briefly closes her eyes. Then she opens her eyes and looks straight into mine.
“Lili’s in love with a boy named Juan Pablo. He came here to stop the wedding. Gianni found them together in the dressing room and was going to kill them both.”
I try to unfuck my brain long enough to piece a sentence together. “How does that end up with you in a wedding dress?”
She knits her brows. “Because of the deal you made with Gianni. What other Caruso female did you think would take Lili’s place? My mother?”
When I don’t say anything, she begs softly, “Please, Quinn. Please don’t hurt them. They’re good kids. They’re just in love.”
I huff out a laugh that’s part surprise and part anger. “Why the fuck do you think I’d hurt her for being in love?”
Caught off guard by that, she blinks.
Now I’m really insulted.
I demand, “Do you really think so bloody little of me?”
“I…I didn’t know what to think. Everything happened so fast. All I knew was that Gianni was about to start firing his gun, so I proposed an alternative.”
We’re staring at each other again. Both of us are breathing hard. She’s got anxiety written all over her, I’m about to choke in my bloody bow tie, and my dick is painfully straining the zipper of my trousers, throbbing with need just from looking at her.
Looking at her and thinking Fuck me, how bad I want to be balls-deep in that.
I lick my lips and step closer.
“So you thought I’d just accept this little switch of yours? You thought I’d have no problem substituting you for Lili?”
She gazes at me for a moment, then pulls the veil back over her head, exposing her face.
And her chest. And her cleavage. And her shoulders. And her lovely long neck, on the side of which a vein erratically pulses.
Christ, she’s fucking magnificent. I almost groan out loud with desire.
Examining the expression on my face, she says, “Yes.”
Because I’m no longer in complete control of my body, I step closer until we’re only inches apart and I’m staring down into her wide, beautiful eyes, watching her fight not to give in to the urge to run.
“You told me last night not even the threat of your own death could make you walk down the aisle again.”
“It was the threat of Lili’s death that changed my mind.”
“So this is about Lili? That’s all it’s about?”
When she glances away, I take her chin in my hand and force her to look at me. “It’s truth-telling time, remember?”
She nibbles on her lower lip for a moment, hesitating. “I’m not comfortable answering that.”
“And I’m not comfortable taking a wife who thinks she’s not going to have to sleep with me.”
She closes her eyes and mutters, “Jesus Christ, Quinn, you’re killing me.”
Leaning close to her ear, my heart pounding like mad and my dick aching, I murmur, “If I marry you, Reyna, I get to fuck you as hard and as often as I want.”
“Oh my God.”
“That’s the deal, or there’s no deal.”
She says sarcastically, “Should we add it to the contract?”
I pull away and gaze down at her. “I’ve wanted you since the first second I saw you, stabbing me to death with those eyes from the bedroom window at your house. This fake marriage includes sex, or it doesn’t happen.”
She glares at me. “Your charm could sweep a girl right off her feet, you know that?”
“Wait till you see my cock. Then you’ll really be swooning.”
Her whole face turns red, from her neck to her hairline. She presses her lips together into a thin line.
I know that isn’t a rejection. She’s not saying no, which means she’s saying yes.
But she has to say it out loud.
“So? Do you agree?”
Sounding as if she’d like to shove her bouquet down my throat, she says, “Yes, Quinn. I agree.”
“Good. Then go ahead and ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
“To marry you.”
Her mouth drops open. She stares at me in shock for a moment, then says flatly, “You’re joking.”
I point at my face. “This isn’t my joking face. Ask me. And do it nicely, or I might say no, because I’ll be taking my own life into my hands.”
“How so?”
I smirk at her. “Any man who marries a Black Widow has to sleep with one eye open.”
Oh, how she hates it when I smirk. Her eyes glitter with anger. She says through stiff lips, “That’s a very smart idea.”
Then she draws herself up to her full height, looks at me with withering disdain, and grits out, “Mr. Quinn…will you marry me?”
I reach out and stroke my fingertips over her cheek. “Aye, viper,” I murmur, feeling my blood pump fast and hot through my veins. “I’ll marry you. But if you decide to kill me, wait until tomorrow.”
She arches a brow. “Because?”
“Because I need to feel those sharp claws of yours dig into my back at least once before I die.”
I grab her hand and lead her out of the room and back to the altar.
