Page 4 of Risky Vows

3

Massimo

The violinists worktheir instruments as my bride marches to the altar.

I take a deep breath.

Not bad.

Not bad at all.

Amara walks up to me, with her father in tow, wearing a wedding dress that outlines her luscious body. She has a neutral smile, certainly not the look one should display when they're in love. If you care about that shit.

My plan with her is to learn the most I can. Like I would with a business opponent or a newfound illness. Study, learn, then attack. I have to say—she looks hot. So, consummating the marriage won't be a chore. Or maybe it will.

Maybe she sucks in bed. We shall see later.

Her father gestures to me, and I nod. He kisses her forehead and goes to his place. Her father moves slowly but with sure steps. He is of average height and in good shape. He has a dignified demeanor and doesn't show the desperation of hissituation. Dad told me he's got early-stage dementia, one of the reasons they wanted to marry her off.

Enzo Montefiore doesn't want to die and let his legacy go to ruins.

I exchange a look with Amara and try to read the message in her hazel-green eyes. She gives me a frigid smile, and we face the priest, who's been with our family for many years. My father made many donations to his church, and Father Ambrosio has conveniently looked away from some of the damage my family has caused to the community.

He starts his service, and I go through the motions, pretending to listen, ignoring the crowd of two hundred guests in the chapel. This marriage means we're fortifying our turf.

Two strong families bound by this matrimony. We'll leave our biggest competitor, the Santinis, scratching their heads. The Santinis have infiltrated the local mafia scene with their barbaric modus operandi and quickly made many enemies. They aren't as big or resourceful as our family, and not having as much to lose is their main advantage. A few of their members have spent a long time in prison.

When Father Ambrosio says I can kiss the bride, I remove the thin veil covering her face. She looks at me, and I see a flicker of emotion in her eyes. I can't pinpoint its meaning, but I brush my lips against hers and give her a quick kiss for optics. Our mouths don't open, but I doubt Father Ambrosio will complain.

The contact ends faster than it started, and we look at the crowd, cheering us as the Father announces our new titles.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Massimo Gallo."

I reach for her hand as we walk out, and when I touch her skin, I realize it's cold. Clammy.

So, despite her collected exterior, she's uncomfortable with this situation. Good. I don't want her to be too comfortable. I stillwonder if she's marrying me out of familial duty or has a hidden agenda.

What am I going to do with her? Marriage wasn't in my plans.

But as the oldest son, I have to be pragmatic.

Marriage is a business like any other. I usually have the opportunity to wine and dine potential partners, but this time, I'll have to do that after the deal. And unlike the usual people I take to strip clubs and overpriced, hyped-up dinners, I'll have to be different with her because we’ll live together.

We enter the limo awaiting us at the front as we leave the chapel. It will take us to the lavish venue for the wedding reception. I help her in with her dress and close the door.

Once the driver peels off, I lift the partition. I chose to sit across from her so I could see her expressions. "Here we are."

She widens her eyes. "Already? We barely left."

I smile. "I mean, we're married."

She lightly touches her stomach as if to keep from getting sick. "Yes. Absolutely."

I slide to the edge of my seat, leaning closer. "What's your angle, Amara? Why did you marry me?"

She looks out the window. "Because it was the right thing to do. Why did you?"

"Because your dad isn't up for the job, and your mom needs help. This union will benefit our families," I say, and almost laugh at how I began my reply, like I'm some sort of do-gooder. She knows that's not the case.

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