Page 53 of His to Honor

CHAPTER 17

Giulia

For the second time in a year, I’m about to exchange vows when I really don’t want to. My marriage to Johnny was arranged by my father and stepmother for reasons they never fully explained to me. Knowing the importance of doing my duty, I didn’t object to their plans. But I assumed if I was ever to marry again, I would have some say in it. Being widowed is supposed to grant a woman some measure of freedom in our fucked-up world. I guess none of that matters to the Volantes, who expect everyone to bend to their will.

It’s not that I don’t want to be with Matteo. Under different circumstances, I’d be bursting with happiness at the thought of marrying him. It’s not because he’s rich and powerful, though those are certainly incentives. His incredible hotness isn’t the reason either. It’s because Matteo is one of the best friends I’ve ever had. I’m comfortable with him. It doesn’t hurt that he’s incredible in bed, not that we’ve made much use of one so far. We’ve mostly bypassed the comfort of a soft mattress in favor of other settings.

There’s little to complain about in terms of the arrangements Damiano made for us. The church is pretty much my dream venue. Tucked away beside a quiet park in the center of Florence, it was built during the Renaissance as a private chapel for some wealthy family. Despite the short notice, it’s been decorated with gorgeous arrangements of blush pink roses and peonies, my favorite flower.

My dress is stunning. Livvy picked it out for me, but it’s exactly what I’d have chosen. She found me an amazing white silk dress with a corseted bodice and a floaty skirt that fans out when I walk. Miraculously, it’s a perfect fit for my small boobs and wider hips. I feel like a princess in it. I’m not so enamored of the shoes she bought. They’re an inch higher than I’m used to, and the heel is so delicate, I’m afraid it’ll snap and I’ll twist my ankle.

Livvy helped me to apply some makeup, which has given me a rosy-cheeked maiden look, and she found me a sparkly silver headband that suits my cropped lilac-colored hair. I kind of regret rebelliously changing my hair now, but there’s not much I can do about that. It’s not as if I can make my hair grow on command.

Everything is close to perfect, but as I stare at myself in the mirror, I still can’t summon any enthusiasm for what’s about to happen. I never imagined Matteo would strong-arm me into marriage like this. I don’t know why he believes I’m in need of protection or that this is the best way to ensure my safety, but it’s turned him into a raging asshole.

“Are you ready?” Livvy’s concerned tone tells me she isn’t oblivious to my reluctance.

“Nope.”

She rakes her teeth over her bottom lip. “Do you want me to talk to Matteo?”

I turn to face her. “What good would that do?”

Livvy shrugs. “I’m his favorite sister. He might listen to me.”

It’s impossible not to roll my eyes at that. “You’re his only sister and right now he isn’t listening to anyone.”

I know because when we arrived, Damiano took one look at my face and the tight grip Matteo had on my arm and dragged him aside to ask him what the hell was going on. Predictably, Matteo told him to mind his own business. His cousin backed off, but I can’t help wondering if he would put a stop to this if I asked him to. Matteo needs a serious time out to reconsider what he’s doing.

The only reason I won’t appeal to Damiano is that I don’t want to be the cause of a family rift. The Italian and American Volantes help to keep each other in power. Without their tight bonds, it would be harder for them to maintain control. If they lose their grip, everyone in the organization suffers, and that includes my dad and my brother. Perhaps I should quit being so selfless, but I can’t do anything to jeopardize everyone’s future.

“Anyway,” I soften my tone because Livvy has issues of her own, “you’ve also got an overbearing asshole to deal with.”

Livvy rolls her eyes, immediately knowing I’m referring to the ice-cold Russian who turned up at the church at the same time we did. Apparently he was scheduled to meet with Damiano this afternoon. When he heard about the wedding, he invited himself along. Livvy is playing it cool, but occasionally I glimpse anxiety in her expression.

“I could ask Piotr to help you,” she suggests.

“And what would that cost you?” I can only imagine what she’d have to promise to persuade Reznov to go against the Volantes. “Just leave it alone. I’ll be okay.”

Livvy looks set to dispute that, but is interrupted when the door opens and Lorenzo strolls into the room. Brimming with confidence, he inhabits every space like he owns it.

“You two look nice,” he says with a grin.

“Nice?” Livvy bristles. “We look fucking incredible.”

Lorenzo shrugs. “She does,” he nods toward me, “but you need some color in your cheeks, cousin. Wouldn’t want the big bad Russian to think you’re afraid of him, would you?”

I don’t like the way he teases Olivia. Everyone acts as if she’s some spoiled princess who’s devoid of feelings, but I suspect she’s hurt by the way the men in her family mess with her.

“What do you want, Lorenzo?” I demand.

“Came to see if you want me to walk you down the aisle.”

More likely he’s been sent to ensure I’m delivered to Matteo without fuss. Perhaps my earlier comment about him holding the gun to my head wasn’t so wide of the mark.

“I’d rather you walked me back to New York.”

Lorenzo laughs. “Sorry,dolcezza, but Matteo would have my balls and the ladies like them where they are.”

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