My father sits in the front row in that damn three-piece suit with his glinting gold pocket watch. His presence wasn’t desired or required but here he is to support us on the day. Or perhaps just to see what kind of mess my life will turn into now that I’ve chosen, in his words, “the most inappropriate woman for a bride.” Someone I’ll be sick of within a few months, he assured me.
“You sure you want to do this, buddy?” My cousin Elijah claps me on the shoulder with his blue eyes lit with mischief.
“Surer than I am of anything else in my wretched life.”
His lips go round. “Never thought I’d see you willingly accept the bit in your mouth.”
“Why the hell not?” I snap. “A man has to settle down at some point. When you find a queen, you don't let her go.”
Elijah scoffs at the word. “Lifelong bachelor.”
The words die at the swell of the first violin. Classy, understated, a sweetly gripping melody of strings.
Then Nicola rounds the garden path with Louisa escorting her down the aisle and I go mute.
I consider her the type of female who enjoys tasteful things. A cohesive design. Her dress is no expectation, and to say she looks beautiful is an understatement. The lace bodice emphasizes the smallness of her waist, while the full skirt conjures memories of what is hidden underneath.
Off the shoulders, the fabric drapes down to her mid-arm, her collarbone almost gilded by the afternoon light.
Christ, I’m a lucky bastard.
I’ve never done anything to deserve her, and as a warm, invisible hand wraps around my throat, I know I never will.
She’s high-spirited, and she knows how to get what she wants out of men, how to make them bow to her.
Her smile grows wider.
“This life is always going to be exciting, isn’t it?” I ask in an undertone once she’s reached me.
She’s not only a vision in white but glowing from within. A powerhouse, a supernova, ready to be unleashed on our enemies. Together.
Nicola nods emphatically, and a stray curl, as soft as a piece of velvet, brushes her blushed cheek. “As long as you learn to play nice with me. And keep those nasty little habits of yours in check.”
We step in front of the priest with her hand in mine. “Little fox, you know better. I’m not the kind who plays nice. But the rest? We’ll see.”
She squeezes my finger in a silent reprimand before the officiant launches into his speech.
The ceremony is nothing but a blur of words and meaning and feeling. My stomach muscles tighten when she slides the ring on my left ring finger in a binding more real than anything else in my life.
A tether to rock and stone and flesh and blood. Family. Nicola is my family, and I'll do whatever it takes to protect her from the rest of the monsters going bump in the night.
Then her lips are on mine and the people gathered to bear witness erupt in a dull roar.
Finally, the world narrows, sharpens, and there is only her with her sweet fucking mouth and her perfume. Flowers. It’s appropriate, especially the spicy undertone, speaking of black velvet and thorns.
“Congratulations, Mr. Balestra,” she whispers before nipping my lower lip.
Lust automatically zips right down to my cock. “And to you as well, Mrs. Balestra.”
I grip her hand hard enough to make her gasp.
I didn’t want to want her this way, to have her come into my world and fuck everything up. Flip the script on what my life was supposed to be. Yet here we stand as man and wife, and Nicola is all around me, inside of me, so clear when everything else turns to fog.
It didn’t matter what happened. If we lost our business or our home because my home is with her. And for the first time in my life, I feel like I actually belong somewhere.
To someone.
My best men and her bridesmaids hustle us into the waiting limo. The moment the door closes, Nicola is on my lap. She grinds against me, her arms loose on my shoulders as she leans forward to nip my chin.