Like every little girl I know, I spent most of my childhood imagining the future I would have. I had dolls that I pretended were my children and friends I swore I would have by my side for the rest of my life.
But there was one day I played over and over in my mind, dreaming up everything I could ever hope for, and then some.
My wedding day.
Visually, the church is exactly what I envisioned. My dress is the princess style I always wanted, my hair is curled down my back as I imagined it would be, and my sister is just as radiant in her deep crimson dress as I knew she would be.
On paper, my wedding is exactly what I dreamed of all those years ago. But my reality is something else entirely.
All the nights I spent dreaming of my wedding, I never thought I would have a gun strapped to my thigh, or a knife sewn into the boning of my dress. I never thought I would be marrying a man who my family has always considered to be the enemy. And I certainly never imagined my wedding would be used as a ploy to draw out whoever is fucking with both families.
And yet here we are.
The soft lace and harsh boning digging into my ribs are such a direct contrast it holds my mind in the here and now each time it starts to wander. All the things that could have been. The fact my father isn’t the one walking me down the aisle, and my mother isn’t here to give me last minute pieces of advice. The fact my brothers were almost uninvited altogether and now hover nearby, as if waiting for the penny to drop and Elijah to pull out some nefarious scheme.
Wynter readjusts the back of my dress for the tenth time since we took our place behind the door at the end of the aisle. The veil my mother wore on her wedding day is delicately draped over my face and having something of hers so close to me allows me to feel like she’s here with me.
“Stop fussing over her, Wyn. You’re making her nervous.” Emerson takes one of my hands and squeezes, a gesture of silent support. While she’s only been in the family for a few months, I consider her to be every bit as much a sister as Wynter, and she has each of us so perfectly worked out, I almost can’t believe it some days. “How are you feeling?”
I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath. I could lie to her, but she’d know. It’s her job to know when people are lying or skating around the truth. “Nervous,” I admit.
She nods, sympathy shrouding her emerald eyes. “I was sure I was going to need to stop halfway up the aisle and throw up when Rayne and I got married.” She smiles affectionately at her husband.
“She was basically hyperventilating by the time she made it to me.” He chuckles, taking long strides across the small space and bundling his wife up in his arms.
I meet Storm’s thunderous eyes by the door and offer him a small smile. It’s not much, but it’s all I can give him. We’ve always had a strained relationship. It comes with the territory I suppose but it’s never been more so than it is now. The fact I’m going against his wishes and marrying Elijah is seen as a betrayal, and I don’t entirely disagree with his logic. If you told me six months ago that I would be standing here in my dream wedding dress, about to walk down the aisle and marry Elijah Russo, I would have laughed in your face. Even now, the idea is preposterous, but it feels right.
Even through all the planning and fear, the closer I came to this moment, the more settled in my choice I was. Something inside tells me I was meant to be with Elijah, and I’ve never been one to argue with my gut before.
I take a breath and take another look at my family. Both my sisters, and all three brothers. A family forged through trials and tribulations, and we’re about to gain another member, even if half of them aren’t happy about the choice. “I know you think this is a huge mistake, and you think I’m only doing it as a way to get a rise out of you, but I can assure you that I’m not that big of an idiot. I wouldn’t tie myself to another person for the rest of my life unless I was absolutely sure it was the right choice, especially not someone in a family like ours. I’m well aware that the only escape from a Mafia marriage is death, and I quite enjoy breathing.” I half laugh at my attempt at humor and glance down at my dress again. It truly is a work of art. The designer pulled it together so quickly I’m truly not sure how it was even possible, but I don’t question how they got it done.
Storm sighs, his eyes softening as he follows the same path my own had a moment ago. “I don’t think you’re an idiot, Snow. I think you’re a bright, incredible, beautiful young woman who has their entire life ahead of them, and I don’t want you to make any mistakes you can’t take back.” He pauses, something I don’t recognize crossing his gray eyes. “All I ever wanted for you and Wynter is for you to be happy, and you were… right the other day when you said I shouldn’t judge Elijah based on who his family is because we’ve never done that to Everett. I am still hesitant about this arrangement, but I will no longer interfere.”
I smile and hold my hand out to him. He takes it immediately and tugs me into an embrace that, for once, doesn’t feel foreign. It feels right. “Thank you for being here,” I whisper.
“I wouldn’t miss your big day, Snow.”
Music fills the church on the other side of the door and panic fills my lungs, taking up all the space air would normally occupy. Am I really doing this? Am I really marrying a man I considered to be our enemy a month ago? And am I really going to do it with a threat hanging over our heads?
There’s so much security in this church it seems like the impossible mark, but if I’ve learned anything growing up in a Mafia family, it’s that nothing is impossible. There’s always something, or someone, lurking in the shadows ready to strike.
“You ready?” Wynter flashes me a bright smile, and her excitement settles my nerves enough for me to nod. She gives me a quick hug and rearranges my dress again. “You look so beautiful, Snow. Mom and Dad would be so proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I choke out.
Emerson and Rayne stand by the doors, their arms linked as they listen for their queue. Wynter and Everett are behind them, and Storm links his arm with mine. When I asked him to walk me down the aisle, I wasn’t sure he would say yes. Not with how he feels about the man I’m marrying. But it was one of the rare moments I’ve seen him speechless.
“You’ve got this, little sis,” he whispers to me as the doors push open and all eyes turn to Emerson and Rayne. They take measured steps toward the altar, and I try to get a glimpse of Elijah, but there are people blocking my view.
The church is packed. We invited everyone we both know, making for an interesting assortment of high society and the criminals of the city. There are the most decorated police officers and the most fucked up, deranged men who call Chicago home in the pews, and the irony of it isn’t lost on me.
“We’ve got you, Snow.” Storm gives me a small smile, and then we’re moving.
The moment my eyes lock with Elijah’s at the other end of the aisle, something inside me settles and I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Perhaps it should worry me just how deeply my feelings for him are ingrained, but right now, all I can think about is how sexy he looks in his three-piece suit clinging to every hard muscle. It looks like the thing was made for his body, and considering the price we paid for it, I might actually believe it was stitched right onto his body this morning.
His face is set in impenetrable stone, but there’s a hint of adoration in his eyes only I can recognize, because I’m the only one who has ever been on the receiving end of it. He wears a mask for the rest of the world, but I can see through it to the man he is behind closed doors. The man he is just for me.
When Emerson and Rayne reach the altar, he gives her hand a squeeze and they separate. He stands behind Elijah while she moves to where I’ll stand across from him. He’s hesitant to let her out of his reach, but we planned for every eventuality. If something goes down, Emerson, Wynter and I will make a break for the door behind the altar and we’re to wait there until the coast is clear.
Wynter and Everett follow the same patterns, and then there’s no one between me and my soon-to-be husband.
Storm stops a few feet from Elijah and draws me into his arms for the second time today. His grip on me is tight and certain, and I don’t dare pull away for fear he might never do it again. “I’m proud of you.” He releases me before I can respond, his eyes finding Elijah’s as he steps down toward us, his hand extended to take mine. “Take care of my baby sister,” Storm rumbles.
“With every beat of my heart,” Elijah says, not bothering to drag his eyes away from me. “You are a vision, my Snowflake.”
I wonder if he can see the intricate details I had added to my gown to represent his nickname for me. The individually sewn snowflakes weaved within the lace and tulle. When I asked the designer to add them, I was met with dead silence on the other end of the line and I imagined her rolling her eyes at the request. She probably thought it was some melodramatic nod to my unusual name. But no. It’s a nod to my almost-husband and the way he became obsessed with me.
I take Elijah’s hand and allow him to help me to the altar, his eyes never leaving me.
The pews quieten and silence falls throughout the church. My breaths come in quickly as my eyes scan the crowd. They’re here. I can feel it. There’s something in the air that grips my throat and danger rings through my body.
“Relax,” Elijah murmurs, his fingers moving to my chin and pulling me to face him.
The moment our eyes meet, the worry is replaced with a calm only he can bring me. I allow myself to lean into his warmth, soaking up the comfort he offers. I don’t care if there’s a church full of people staring at us. I don’t care if for this moment the world sees me for who I am, not the person I’ve portrayed all these years. All that matters is Elijah.
“Good girl,” he whispers, and a moment later, the priest’s voice rumbles through the church, but neither of us can drag our eyes away from one another.
The priest’s words barely register as he engages his audience. We chose not to write our own vows, worried it would show our weakness, and on top of that, we haven’t actually spoken about how we feel about one another. It’s clear Elijah is obsessed with me. I knew it the moment our eyes met across the dining room that first morning. But obsession and love aren’t the same thing, and the feelings that have seeped into my heart and make it hard to breathe when he’s not around is much closer to the latter.
It’s not until Elijah quirks an eyebrow at me that I finally tune into the words being said around me. “Do you, Snow Elizabeth Saint James, take Elijah Anthony Russo to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” I reply immediately, the words falling from my lips so quickly I barely register them.
Elijah smirks, the corners of his lips quirking up so slightly no one but me would notice.
“Do you, Elijah Anthony Russo, take Snow Elizabeth Saint James to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto her for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do,” he says evenly.
“By the power vested in me by the state of Illinois, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Elijah and I are embracing before he can finish the words, our kiss feral and driven by need and fear, and all the other emotions running rampant through our bodies. I’ve never needed someone so badly I couldn’t breathe without them, but that’s what it’s like with Elijah, and I’m in no position to argue.
When he finally breaks our kiss, he pays no mind to the crowd of people cheering for us. Instead, he rests his forehead on mine, and we take a moment to allow it all to soak in.
“I lo—” Before Elijah can finish, a loud bang at the front of the church drags our attention from one another, and a moment later, chaos reigns down on us.
