underneath the door, making me stop in my tracks. Instead of knocking, I press my forehead against it and smile, my heart full of her. Over the last month, that girl has managed to fill every inch of my soul, my mind, and my home. Fuck, I find pieces of her in every corner; her long blond curls stuck to the seat of my car, the ghost of her perfume when I walk into a room hours after she does.
I know war is coming, but with her, all I know is peace.
As much as I’d like to stay out here all day, I’ve got shit to get on with. So I knock, smirking as her laugh turns into a squeal. Tayce pokes her head through the crack and scowls.
“You can’t be here! It’s bad luck.”
I cock a brow and wedge my foot between the door and the frame. “Well, is she dressed yet?”
Her gaze narrows, dropping to my shoe. “No. Is it urgent?”
“Wouldn’t be wasting my time talking to you if it wasn’t.”
With a dramatic sigh, she yells over her shoulder, and Rory comes bounding up to the door.
Our eyes clash and my throat tightens. Fuck, I don’t know how I’m going to do this. She’s not even in her wedding dress yet, but just her hair and makeup alone are making me want to put my fist through a wall, because I can’t figure out how else to deal with all the emotion brewing inside my rib cage.
I lick my lips. Shake my head in disbelief. “Sometimes I think I conjured you from a wet dream.”
She laughs, a delicious, throaty noise that I’ve quickly become addicted to. “You know you’re not allowed to see me before the ceremony. It’s not traditional.”
“We’re not exactly a traditional couple, baby.”
Her grin is all-knowing, our own little web of sin and secrets swirling silently around us. She knows I’m right. From stealing her off my uncle to spanking her for her sins, we’ve never been normal. Hell, even the way I proposed wasn’t normal. It was in bed, after a particularly long night of fucking, and the urge to chain this girl to me forever became all-consuming. I didn’t ask her to marry me, I fucking begged, and then let her choose her own ring. All I wanted to do was give her the biggest diamond I could source, a loud-and-proud warning sign that she was mine, but I knew she’d hate that. She wanted simple, something that blended in with her running pants and oversized hoodies.
“Are you going to tell me what you want or are you going to stare at me all day?” she asks, eyes glinting under her false lashes.
I grind my jaw, letting her insolence slide, because I have more important things to give her than a spanking today. “Come. I want to show you something.”
“But—”
“It’ll be quick, I promise.”
With a glance over her shoulder, she steps out of the room and slides her hand in mine, allowing me to lead her across the hall and down the stairs. The house is slowly turning into a home, our home, each corner punctuated with touches of Rory. We reach the back door and I wrap her up in my big parka and lead her out into the mid-December chill.
“Holy crow,” she grunts, wrapping her arms around her body. “I wish I chose a dress with sleeves now. Remind me why we didn’t wait for a summer wedding, again?”
In response, I pick her up, wrap her in my arms and carry her to the back of the garden. “I wasn’t waiting another week to marry you, let alone a whole fucking season. Close your eyes,” I mutter against the crown of her hair. We pass the pond she insisted on building, and the little bird-watching hut that looks over it. When we reach our destination, a small, alcove covered in shrubbery right at the bottom of the garden, I gently lower her to the ground and spin her around.
“Okay, you can open them now.”
She pops her lids. Gasps. Immediately, my heart flutters at the feeling of her back tensing against my chest.
“Is it really…?”
“Yes,” I smirk, rubbing my palms down the length of her arms. “It’s the phone booth from the cliff.”
“But…how?!”
“Don’t worry yourself about the details. Look.” I open the door and pull her inside. Our warm bodies and breath immediately steam up the paneled windows. Without a word, I lift the receiver and put it to her ear, watching her face melt into pure elation as she hears the automated voicemail message on the other end of the line. “It’s not connected to the real hotline, it’s a replica with a private connection, just for you.”
She laughs, choking back emotion. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Makes a change,” I bite back, flicking her perfect button nose.
I know how much she misses confessing her petty little sins, but from now on, that’s all they’ll ever be—petty. Because any real sin she wants to commit, I’ll do it for her. I’ve managed to somewhat fill the void by letting her listen to the sins that come in to the hotline, which she finds fascinating. Once a week, we curl up on the sofa after dinner and press play, with the promise she’ll get to choose the sins I’ll put forward to my brothers on the last Sunday of every month.
She hitches herself on her tip toes and grazes her mouth over mine. I grip the back of her hair and deepen the kiss, stealing all the labored breaths slipping out from her lungs; like everything else about her, they belong to me now. It’s insane how something so simple as a kiss from her makes my cock rock hard. I groan into her mouth and reluctantly push her off.
“I need to get changed.”
She looks up at me, a shy expression on her face. “And I probably need to redo my lipstick. Thank you,” she adds with a quick peck, before slipping out the door. “I’ll see you at the altar!”
An hour later, I’m by the lake at the Devil’s Preserve. We knew immediately that this was the only logical place to get married; not only because the park means so much to Rory, but because her father can walk her down the aisle and actually remember the day. The wedding doesn’t start for another hour, but I’m here to check the security is tight and everything is going to run smoothly.
Gabe’s men are everywhere, barking orders through earpieces and doing constant laps of the perimeter. Gabe himself strides past with a stern expression on his face, an AK-47 slung over his arm. Amusement prickles at my chest. Christ. I don’t know why I ever bothered to be worried about the Cove clan’s retaliation to me killing Alberto. My brother is a true psychopath and completely in his element heading up an army; not even Dante would be stupid enough to go up against him.
I whistle over to him. He scowls and strides over, raking a stern eye over my tuxedo. “We need to call the wedding off.”
My turn to scowl. “Not a chance in hell. What makes you say that?”
His gaze shifts around the rows of white chairs, the rose-covered arbor at the end of the dock, and the dozens of lit candles floating on the lake. “I have a bad feeling about it.”
I suck in a lungful of air and give a shake of my head. “Fucking hell. We haven’t heard a peep out of the Cove clan since I left Alberto dead in his office. I know it isn’t over, but the chances of anything happening today are low.”
His jaw ticks in thought. I clamp a hand on his tense shoulder. “Can you switch out of killer mode for just an hour, and, you know, be my best man?”
A few heavy seconds pass, conflict coasting the planes of his face. Eventually, he nods, bringing his cell to his ear. “One hour, that’s all.”
I watch him leave, in disbelief, before sinking in one of the guest chairs and studying the chaos that goes into creating a perfect wedding. Servers haul in last-minute deliveries, cleaners do a final swipe, and at the far end of the lake, I spot Rafe on the phone, talking animatedly at whoever is on the other side of the line. Despite him agreeing to handle the entire entertainment side of the wedding, I’ve barely seen him over the last month. He’s been too busy making plans to build an exclusive casino and club in the cave network underneath Devil’s Dip. Initially, I’d agreed to give the space to the Hollow clan, but they were more than happy to back out of the deal, once they learned of the feud between us and the Cove brothers. Ever the businessman, Cas was firm and fair with his reasoning: They wanted to be Switzerland—completely neutral—and to stay out of it.
I can respect that.
I sit there until the guests start arriving. No fucking distant cousins from Sicily, just people Rory and I actually give a fuck about. The Hollow clan turn up, Benny and Nico throwing me cheesy thumbs-ups across the rows. They are followed in by the harbormaster, Bill, and some other familiar faces from the port. As Rafe makes a beeline toward me, texting as he walks, I rise to my feet to greet him. Suddenly, he looks up and stops, an unreadable expression on his face. Heart quickening, I turn to follow his gaze.
Tor.
He’s alone, cutting a sharp figure in a navy three-piece suit, that nose ring glinting under the early moonlight. We lock eyes and stare at each other for a few beats.
He nods. I nod back, and when I turn back to Rafe, he has a shark-like grin stretching his face.
“He chose us.”
“Dante might have sent him. Radio Gabe, I want him checked out.”
Rafe’s face flickers with annoyance. “Tor wouldn’t do that to us.”
“Do it.”
With my harsh command hanging heavy in the air, I turn on my heel and storm toward the bar area. I hope to god he’s chosen us, but nothing or nobody is going to ruin this fucking night for Rory. I take a deep breath in the hope it’ll extinguish some of the unease in my lungs. Slowing to a stop, I absentmindedly watch the row of servers loading up champagne flutes onto trays for incoming guests.
The girl at the end of the bar catches my eye, because it’s immediately obvious she’s never poured a glass of champagne in her life. She’s not even tipping the flute, and then she curses loudly when the bubbles spill out over the rim. Gaze darkening, I make a beeline for her. The Cove Clan aren’t going to ruin this wedding, and I sure as hell won’t let a shitty server ruin it, either.
As she shakily picks up the tray, crystal clinking dangerously, I step in front of her. “You’re fired,” I growl. “Put it down and go home.”
The venom in my voice makes her flinch, and the glasses tumble like a house of cards. Another loud curse word escapes her lips, and then she scowls up at me.
“For fuck’s sake, where do you get off scaring people like that?!”
My heart comes to a crashing stop as our eyes lock.
“You.”
She stills. Her gaze thins. “Do I know you?”
Big blue eyes. Wild red hair. Freckles that pool together when she scrunches her nose at me.
I’d recognize this girl anywhere. Under the heavy silence, her expression softens, morphing from annoyance into poorly disguised panic. A beat passes. Then without a word, she drops the tray, turns on her heel, and runs. She doesn’t get very far, because Rafe steps out of the shadows and she crashes into his chest. His hand shoots out, grabs her arm, and he drags her back to me.
“Get off me!” she hisses, trying to wriggle out of his grip.
“Are you scaring my servers, Angelo?” he drawls. “I know it’s your wedding, but gee, try not to make a scene before the ceremony even starts.”
“You hired the chick?” I growl.
He frowns at the rage threading through my tone. I’m barely able to contain it, and if it was a man standing in front of me, my hand would already be around his throat.
“Why? Have you fucked her?”
“No, it’s her. The girl who sold me the fortune cookie in San Francisco,” I bite out, shaking my head in disbelief. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s her. But back then, she was wide-eyed and scared, desperate for whatever dimes she could scrape together by selling broken fortune cookies in China Town. Got into my fucking pockets with a sob story about needing to eat.
Rafe stills, narrowing his gaze on the girl. “Is this true?”
She goes for another fruitless tug to get her arm back, but Rafe’s knuckles only whiten on her sleeve. “I don’t know, I’ve had loads of jobs. Now get off me!”
He yanks her closer, spitting venom in her ear. Around us, guests and servers alike are staring at the scene. “Did you, or did you not, sell fortune cookies in San Fran? Simple question, girl. Don’t make me break your fingers to get an answer.”
“Yes!” she yelps.
“So what the fuck are you doing here?” he grinds out. “Who are you working for?”
“What? I just moved here! Got a job at an events agency and they put me on this wedding! Jesus,” she spits, face flushing red. “You never heard of a coincidence?”
“What’s a coincidence is that I have a lying little brat on my hands and only one bullet left in my chamber.” Rafe looks up and gives me a stern nod. “I’ll handle it.”
“What does that mean?” she breathes, eyes darting between me and my brother. “Please, just let me go, I’ll—”
“Let her go, Rafe.”
He stills. Pins me with a glare that suggests I’m crazy.
I huff out a bitter laugh, my eyes flicking to the navy sky. “Mama always believed in fate. It was a fortune cookie that brought her to the Coast in the first place, and the exact same fucking fortune brought me back here, too. I thought it was to find the cunt that killed her, but now, I realize it wasn’t. It was to lead me to Rory. This is Mama’s way of telling me she’s here today.”
They both stare up at me like I’ve lost the plot. I bite back a smirk, nod to the girl. “Let her go, Rafe.”
Reluctantly, he releases his grip on her arm. She smooths down her uniform and takes a few shaky steps away from my brother. He glares at her, still unconvinced that it’s a coincidence. “Leave the Preserve. Hell, if you had any common sense, girl, you’d leave Devil’s Dip.”
“What, do you like, own it, or something?” she snaps back.
A demonic smile creeps across his lips. “Or something.”
His words make her recoil. With one last cursory glance in my direction, she turns on her heel and takes off running, disappearing into the thickness of the trees.
Rafe turns to me. Shakes his head. “You’ve gone soft, my brother.”
“They’ll be calling you Signora Aurora Visconti soon.”
A delirious laugh escapes my lips, forming a cloud of steam against the dark sky. It’s crazy to think that just a handful of months ago, the thought of being called that made my stomach curdle. Now, it sparks little fireworks of joy in my chest. I slip my arm into my father’s and plant a kiss on his cold cheek.
“I’ll always be a Carter at heart, dad.”
He grins, eyes shimmering. “Always.”
Tayce comes up behind me, adjusting the train of my dress. It’s only a small one, and it’s simple, like the rest of my outfit. A sleek, satin gown that hugs the curves of my body without being too revealing. Of course, I’m also wearing a white padded jacket, because it turns out weddings in December are incredibly cold. As I turn around to thank her, something behind the trees catches my eye.
My breathing shallows. “Amelia?” She steps out from the shadows, eyes darting nervously through the clearing. In front of the dock, guests are beginning to take their seats, and the officiant is under the arbor, going over his speech. “Excuse me for a moment,” I say to my father and Tayce, slipping away to meet her.
She breathes hard and grabs my forearm. “Oh, Aurora, you look beautiful,” she murmurs. I rake a gaze over the length of her; wearing a big puffer jacket and jeans, she’s definitely not dressed for a wedding. Not that she was invited—none of the Cove clan were. In fact, I haven’t seen her since I was wearing a very different wedding dress.
“What are you doing here?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not staying. Here.” She thrusts a beautifully wrapped present into my hands. “From me and Donnie. I just stopped by to say congratulations, and that I’m sorry.”
My jaw works. “For what?” I bite out.
“For turning a blind eye to what was happening to you. Deep down, I knew there’s no way you were marrying Alberto for love. But I’ve seen so many horrors while being a member of that family that I’ll cling onto any sliver of hope I can.” She swallows. Wipes a tear from her cheek. “You deserved better.”
I’m silent for a few moments, weighing my emotions. I come to the conclusion that I don’t hate Amelia, and I never have. She’s just another victim of the Cove clan. In a room full of people who despised me, she was always the beacon of light. I bring her in for a hug. “Thank you. You deserve better too, Amelia.”
As she pulls away, she gives me a firm nod. “You’re right. Donatello thinks so too, and we’ll finally be leaving the Coast!” With a small grin, she rubs her stomach and adds, “Me, Donnie, and the baby. Starting a new life in Colorado!”
“Congratulations!”
“Thanks, Aurora. Oh, and he also wants me to thank Angelo for him.”
“For what?”
Her gaze darkens. “Killing Alberto. He’s never wanted to be a made man, and now this is his out.”
I grin, my heart soaring with happiness. “Now the villain is dead, I hope you get your happy ending.”
Her laugh is drowned out by the sound of the orchestra coming to life in the distance, marking the start of the ceremony. “And you’re about to get yours.” With one last squeeze of my arm, she flashes me a small smile and starts walking back into the woods. “Enjoy it, you’re perfect for each other.”
I watch her disappear and turn back around to the lake.
Yes. Yes, we are.
“Maybe wearing heels on a damp December evening wasn’t the smartest idea,” Angelo mutters, picking me up again to carry me over another muddy patch.
“What else was I going to wear?”
“Your sneakers? Those stupid Wellington boots with the fluffy socks?”
“On our wedding day?”
“Your dress is long enough, nobody would know.”
I laugh as he gently drops me onto firmer ground and slides his large hand over mine. Behind us, the jovial hum of the wedding party grows quieter as we make our way through the forest and back onto the main road.
“Now I’m married to the head of the Devil’s Dip mafia, I suppose I’ll have to wear dresses and heels all the time.”
“Nah. Your sweats and sneakers will do.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Angelo’s lips meet my crown, his voice growing darker. “But if you ever want to wear that leather dress to bed you wore on Halloween,, I wouldn’t complain.”
Hot, spiky lust spreads between my thighs, warming my skin despite the chill in the air. At the road, we cross over to the church and snake through the graveyard, until we’re standing right on the edge of the cliff. Closing my eyes, I rest my head against his chest, and bask in the medley of his heartbeat and the crashing waves below. The wedding reception is great, but having a few stolen moments with my husband, exactly where we first met, is even better.
The sound of a Zippo lighter sparking. The taste of smoke on my tongue. I pop a lid and crane my neck up, just in time to see Angelo slip a lit cigarette between his lips.
“I can’t remember the last time I saw you smoke.”
“For old time’s sake,” he purrs, slipping it between my lips and holding it there. He watches me in fascination as I take a long, slow drag. When I exhale, he captures the smoke in his mouth. My breath and his breath, his heart and mine, they are interchangeable now.
His gaze darts up to the sky. “That’ll be you, soon.”
I follow his eye line to the plane soaring overhead. A grin splits my face in two, excitement buzzing in my veins. A few days ago, Angelo surprised me with a letter. It was from the Northwestern Academy of Aviation, letting me know that my place at the school was still valid, on the condition that I passed the final exam I never got to sit. I don’t know how many people my husband had to bribe or intimidate to wrangle that, but the dark side of me doesn’t care.
Above my head, Angelo takes a final drag and flicks the butt into the sea below.
“You know, that’s not very good for the environment.”
“And you’re not very good for me,” he growls, nipping at my ear. He spins me around and palms my ass, pulling my hips flush against his.
“You’re hard,” I smirk, grinding against his erection.
“See? Not good for me. Ever since I met you I walk around with a permanent hard-on.” He grazes his lips against mine, wrapping me in tobacco, leather, and warm whiskey. “I’ve got a question for you.”
“Another one? I already said yes.”
He chuckles into my mouth, parting my lips with a swipe of his tongue.
“You hoping to fall, or fly?”
I pull away from him and gaze over the edge. His grip tightens on my waist, as if he’s worried a strong gust of wind will blow me over it.
“Fly,” I announce.
I turn back to him, loving how his eyes twinkle under the moonlight. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. I’ve already fallen.” I pause for dramatic effect. “Fallen in love with you.”
He stills, then shakes his head in disbelief. “Fucking hell, I think that’s the cheesiest thing you’ve ever said.”
Laughing, I press my lips against his again, pulling his nape to deepen the kiss. A lustful growl vibrates in his chest, and I press my hand against his ribs to feel it better.
Suddenly, the inside of my eyelids flash white. A deafening explosion follows a split-second later.
Angelo violently tugs me away from the edge of the cliff and steps in front of me.
“What the…?”
But my question trails off as my eyes land on the port below. Angry orange flames lick the harbor, hazy smoke tendrils rising up and melting into the black sky. My heart thumps hard in my throat, the realization of what we’re looking at settling on my skin. “Someone blew up the port,” I whisper.
Angelo’s still and silent, a stark contrast to the screams floating up from the town below. Tension locks his shoulders, and when he slowly turns around, the look on his face steals my breath away.
It’s dark and dangerous. Vicious. The reflection of the flames licks the walls of his irises.
“You ready to go to war, baby?”
A cocktail of lust and adrenaline trickles down my spine.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
