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He’s the one who demanded I marry him. He’s the one who’s already touched me and tasted me. He’s the one who stole my panties as a prize. And he thinks he has the power to make me weak? He has that backwards.

I’m the one he’s weak for, and he’s going to realize just how much today.

Chapter 8

Santino

“Hey, brother.” Emilio slaps my back and grins at me in the mirror. “Nervous?”

“No.” I adjust my cufflinks, making sure the Antonucci crest is straight and not upside down. They were a gift from my grandfather when he passed the title of Boss over to me. He told me to always remember why we do what we do and who we do it for. The family. Family always comes first, and every decision I make will be for the Antonucci legacy, not myself.

What he doesn’t know, and what no one else in my family knows, is that I made Mia my own personal requirement. I could’ve brokered a deal with Leo for our trucks that would’ve been lucrative for my family without involving Mia or marriage, but if I’m allowed one selfish choice in this life I was born into, then I want it to be making Mia Carfano my wife. If she ever came to realize what a weakness she already is for me, then she’d know it’d be me on my knees for her, begging for another taste, and not the other way around.

I pat my chest over the spot where her ripped panties from the club are tucked away in a pocket. Her scent still clings to the fabric and has been keeping me company while away from her.

“If you change your mind, I can always step in and marry her,” my other brother, Alberto, offers, stepping up and slapping my shoulder from the other side.

“Not a fucking chance in hell,” I all but growl like a caveman.

His knowing grin has me wishing I could knock it off his face, but I don’t think Mia wants a groomsman with a busted and bloody lip in our wedding photos.

I don’t give a shit, but I want her to have everything she wants today. I’ve been in contact with the wedding planner, making sure she was giving Mia everything she wanted, including this venue. The Swan Club is on Long Island, and the property has a lake and small waterways with gardens woven all around. The planner told me Mia fell in love with it when she showed her a book of venues, but it’s always booked out years in advance.

I, of course, took that as a personal challenge, and with a single phone call and a wire transfer of an amount the couple that was booked for today couldn’t refuse, I got my girl what she wanted. I made sure the planner told Mia that the previous booking simply fell through, though.

I know today is more important than she’ll ever know or admit, because she’s only getting one wedding in her life, and it’s today, to me. The only way she’ll get rid of me is if I’m dead and buried, because I sure as fuck am never letting her go willingly once I slip my ring on her finger.

“You actually like her?” Emilio asks. “I thought this was just a business deal?”

“It is.” I don’t know why, but I don’t want my brothers knowing how much I want Mia. I don’t want them to see me as anything but their reliable older brother who’s always done what’s needed for them. They don’t know the shit I put up with so they didn’t have to, and they never will.

“Could’ve fooled me with that reaction,” he says smugly.

“Besides, why else would she marry your old ass if not because she had to?” Albie asks, the little shit.

I raise my eyebrows. “Old?”

“She’s what? 20? She can’t even drink yet and you’ve been able to drink for thirteen years.”

“And?”

“And that means you’re fourteen years older than her, Santino. I’m only five years older than her, so I should take your place. You wouldn’t understand how to treat a pretty little thing like her. You haven’t had to win over an innocent woman in a long, long time.”

“If either of you offer to marry her instead of me one more time, I’m going to knock you the fuck out.”

“Damn, brother, we’re just messing with you.” Emilio shakes his head and grips my shoulder. “Lighten up.”

“He can’t,” Albie says. “He’s about to hand his balls over to a girl who can’t even legally drink yet. Which is a shame, since I’m guessing drinking is the only way she’s going to get through today.”

“Shut the fuck up, please.”

“I think you need a drink. Time for a toast.” Albie walks over to the wet bar that’s in my groom’s suite here at The Swan Club, and pours out three glasses of whiskey. “To Santino.” He passes Emilio and me our glasses and raises his. “May your marriage turn out to be more than business because you deserve to be happy.”

“I second that,” Emilio adds, raising his glass.

We’re not the sentimental or sappy kind, but I love my brothers and I know they love me, too. I raise my glass and we clink them together.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

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