Page 58 of Wicked King

A firm grip clasps around my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin. “Whoa, relax, fratello, it’s just me.” Nico appears at my side, and my manic pulse simmers. “What has you so on edge?”

“Oh, I don’t know, coglione. Maybe it’s the wedding thing, or perhaps it’s the powder keg we’re sitting on.” I tick my head at the horde of attendees. “Did you really have to invite the Russians?”

“What would be the point of this strategic alliance if we didn’t show it off?”

“Right,” I hiss.

“How is your beautiful bride?” He smirks, eyeing row upon row of the who’s who in organized crime.

“Reluctant,” I murmur, and even I can hear the bitterness lacing my tone.

“I don’t believe it… after all this time, the charming Marco Rossi hasn’t been able to win her over?”

“Fuck you, Nico.”

“Hey, boys, play nice.” Maisy materializes from the arched entryway, looking stunning in a deep ruby gown that matches her fiery hair. “It’s Marco’s wedding day, Nico, give him a break. He already looks like he’s about a second from puking.” She throws me that concerned, motherly look. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” I grit out. “I just want to get this over with.”

Maisy presses a quick kiss to my cheek and gives me a reassuring smile. “I’ll go check on Jia and make sure she’s not getting cold feet. Don’t worry, everything is going to work out just great. I know it.”

“I wish I shared your eternal optimism, Mais.”

With a quick squeeze to my hand, she scampers down a candlelit corridor, disappearing into the bowels of the old cathedral. Nico’s gaze trails her retreating form for a long minute, the yearning in his eyes only tightening the constraints around my ribcage.

“Just go with her,” I growl.

“No, no. I’m here for moral support.”

“I was about to say the same thing.” An irritatingly familiar voice echoes across the vestibule.

I slowly turn to find my half-brother Dante with his wife, along with his brother, Luca and his fiancée, Stella.

“You know, you really didn’t have to come,” I grumble.

“And miss the opportunity to revel in your happy day?” Dante’s smirk is begging to be punched right off his face.

“Dante…” Rose, his wife, reprimands. “You promised to be on your best behavior.”

“You both did.” Stella, Luca’s fiancée, waggles a finger, showcasing an enormous engagement ring.

“And we will,” Luca replies. “We’re very happy for you, Marco.” He gives me a tight smile which I barely manage to return.

Dante slaps me across the back and flashes a shit-eating grin. “You’re going to love married life, fratello. You can fuck your wife all day and night, and you have someone to cook and do the laundry.”

Rose smacks him on the arm, and he lets out a dramatic oof. “Behave.”

My half-brother is all talk. He adores his wife and worships the ground she walks on. I’ve never seen him let her do an ounce of dirty work. That’s what the staff is for.

Which reminds me…

“Nico, did you invite Blanca to the wedding?”

He nods. “As we decided. Maisy made quite a show of it, actually.”

“You still think she’s up to something?” Luca asks, the look of boredom lifting.

“The Puerto Ricans definitely are,” Nico replies. “I’m just not certain if Blanca has anything to do with it yet. I spoke to Esmeralda, the head of La Sombra Boricua, and she denies any involvement with the recent attacks to our warehouses.”

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