Page 32 of Princes of Carnage

I’m freshly showered, standing in front of the mirror, trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m supposed to be heading to a church for my wedding soon.

My hair is still damp, drying in soft waves around my shoulders. My eyes look almost manic as I gaze at myself in the mirror, the same incredulous feeling that sits in my chest reflected on my face.

The longer I stand here, the more I’m starting to think that this was truly insane, and I should have found some way to back out of it. I mean… what the fuck? Marrying Nico, of all people? Joining our gangs, at least temporarily, is a smart move. But this? It’s nuts.

At the same time though, the pressure has never been higher, and I think of the report I got from Emmett last night. Whoever is trying to take my gang out made another move, and we’ve had to permanently stop using one of the businesses we go through for money laundering because there’s just no safe way to get to it anymore. It’s like whoever is coming after us knows the moves we’re making and is anticipating how we might try to get around them.

That affects our business and our bottom line.

Joining up with the Princes of Carnage is the only way to make things safe for my people again, the only way to make sure we’re not taken out by someone who’s put a target on us and is operating out of the shadows.

So I have to proceed. At least until this threat is no longer an issue. Then hopefully I can go back to being enemies with Nico and his men. The way it should be.

I sigh, dragging my hands through my hair. Being bitter about all of this isn’t going to help, so I march over to my dresser and yank out a drawer so I can start getting dressed.

On top of the dresser is a framed picture of me and my dad, and I let myself stare at it for a moment, grounding myself with memories of him. We look so happy in the picture. Carefree, almost. He’s bent over a pool table, the cue in his hand, but his head is turned to look at me where I’m standing off to the side. We’re both grinning at each other, caught mid-laugh.

My chest aches from the memory of that night and how neither of us ever predicted things would end up like they are now.

“Well, Dad,” I whisper softly. “This is it. The day every father dreams of for their little girls. It’s my wedding day. If you were here, you could walk me down the aisle.” As soon as I say the words, I have to snort at the absurdity of them. “Yeah, right. Don’t get excited, because it’s not real. I’m marrying Nico Morelli, that smug asshole. But… I wish you were here anyway. Even though you’d probably be mad as hell about all this. Maybe because of that. Maybe you could figure out a way to get me out of this.”

I reach out and trace his image in the picture, dragging in a deep breath as tears burn my eyes for a second. Then I blink them back and force myself to get moving, pushing memories and regret away for the time being.

I pull on panties and a bra that will work with the dress I ended up picking out.

I have to admit, the dress is a nice one. It’s lacy without being too princess-y, and with a skirt I’ll be able move in, which is important in case shit goes south. There’s a slit up one side of it that will display a tasteful amount of thigh as well as revealing the tattoo that covers most of my thigh on that side. The pink and red peonies that bloom over my thigh complement the color of the dress, and I wrinkle my nose because I definitely didn’t plan for that.

That would imply that I actually give a shit how I look for this wedding, and I don’t.

The dress will also show off the tattoos that wind up and down my arms, although the capped sleeves will hide the tattoo on my left shoulder blade. That one is my favorite. It was the first tattoo my dad ever gave me, an intricate, delicate design that almost seems to shift when I look at it.

It’s made up of lots of knots and twists and swirls, an image with no real meaning, but one that looks beautiful anyway. Having a design that he created inked near my heart makes me feel closer to him somehow, and I turn in front of the mirror and trace my fingers over it for a second, then sigh and drop my hand.

Although I usually leave my face bare, I throw on some makeup today—nothing over the top, but enough that I won’t look washed out in the dress. I opt to leave my hair down, but I use my curling iron to make the waves in my hair more dramatic, pinning half of them back with a clip studded with pearls.

Then there’s nothing left but to put the dress on.

It fits perfectly, falling over my body to great effect. It hugs my curves and then flares out a bit at the bottom, but it’s a reasonable length, so I can walk in it without tripping all over myself. It has a plunging neckline that shows off a good bit of cleavage, and even though it’s a fairly simple dress compared to some of the ones I tried on, it suits me the best.

I take one last look at myself in the mirror and then turn away, grabbing my phone and texting the members of my crew who will be coming to the wedding to act as witnesses, letting them know to meet me there.

Ten minutes later, I pull up to the church where the ceremony will take place.

Fallon, Emmett, and Carter are waiting for me outside, along with a few other Enigma members who’ve come to have our backs.

Fallon eyes me up and down and wolf whistles, and I glare at him, making him grin and give me a small salute. “No disrespect meant, boss,” he says.

I snort and greet him with a small nod. “You did a perimeter check?” I ask, focused and serious.

“Yeah.” He dips his chin. “No sign of any ambush or threat.”

“Good.” I glance between him and the others. “Remember, stay alert, but don’t start shit unless someone from their side starts it first. Until the vows are over, we’re not technically on the same side yet, so… be ready, just in case.”

They all make low noises of assent, and we head into the church together. I feel less alone with my people at my back, but that’s a small comfort on a day like today.

Nico and his people are already waiting inside, and he looks up as soon as we walk in.

His gaze lands on me, and he goes still. Something flares in his eyes as his gaze slowly tracks up and down my body as I stand in my wedding dress. My stomach flips in response, and I don’t like that. I especially don’t like the heat that rises in me, echoing the look in Nico’s eyes. He looks… good, dressed in a sharp black suit that makes his harshly handsome features seem even more striking.

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