Page 142 of Where the Wicked Reign

But there had also been Milo and Julian sneaking looks of support and adoration my way throughout the whole ordeal.

There’d been Nico’s smirk when he’d handed me my wedding ring and he’d seen my reaction to theProperty of NMthing inscribed and him whispering as we’d stood under the flower archway for the ceremony, “No one could own you, they should all know better. And soon they will.”

And then there’d also been Nico keeping a possessive hold on me from the moment we’d walked back down the aisle together from the expansive Leone Estate gardens and into the main house where the reception had then gotten underway.

He hadn’t let go of me since. He was projecting it as a controlling, commanding, and dominant thing to all the onlookers, especially my father and Angelo. But I knew it really to be a gesture of comfort from him—and, sure, possessiveness, too.

I zoned out as Nico talked Marchetti business with several new partners to the revised two-family alliance gathered around us. I’d noticed a couple of them leering at me and Nico had shifted his hold to tuck me into his side in a silent message to them to shut that slimy shit the hell down. It had worked and then the business talk had continued. I didn’t need to listen. I’d already done my due diligence, and they’d be shocked what I knew about each of them and their business. Actually, they’d be terrified.

Thereceptionwas spread between the living room and the large expanse of the dining room. They hadn’t even bothered with any sort of decorations. The place was just as lifeless and cold as ever with its mahogany wood paneling, creepy framed photos of bloodied historical battles, and the ugly beige and yellow carpeting.

The space was crowded with over two hundred people milling about, business associates schmoozing all over each other in none-too-subtle ways.

As they continued to talk, I caught sight of Marco Marchetti approaching with Leo Marchetti.

The business associates scattered, and then it was just the four of us.

Marco congratulated his son and Leo said something about Nico doing his duty better than he’d expected—a backhanded compliment if I’d ever heard one. No wonder Nico had issues with his uncle. He was an underhanded shithead.

Then Marco smiled genuinely and held his hand out to me. “Welcome to the family, Caterina.”

I took it, and we shook. I saw his eyebrow raise as he felt the strength of my grip. I’d meant to tone it down, but I was already working on toning down everything else about myself, as I had been for hours. I guess something was going to slip out.

“Thank you,” I responded smoothly.

“You make a beautiful bride,” Leo told me, although it wasn’t actually in a sleazy way, as I’d experienced from most everyone else.

“She’s more than beauty,” Marco said. “Congratulations on your award. Your achievements are impressive for one so young. You seem to have the Midas touch. All self-made success too.” His gaze strayed to my father, who was thankfully right over on the other side of the massive living room whispering with Angelo. “It’s a shame that some view it as a threat rather than the asset that it truly is.”

I frowned, and I saw Nico looking perturbed, too. What was going on? Marco had allied with my father, he’d agreed to this forced marriage, and what they believed would befall me as a result, yet now he was coming to me as a friend and what sounded like a prospective business associate?

“It is what it is,” I answered casually.

“Yes, well, for now, at least.”

Leo eyed him in surprise, joining our reactions.

But then Marco stepped up close to Nico and lowered his voice to a barely there whisper, as he warned him, “Santino will be watching you tonight. Put on a show, but that is all. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Father.”

More surprises. He was basically telling Nico not to really capitulate to the sick demands of my father and Angelo, actually ordering him not to hurt me.

With that, he smiled at me, then said his goodbyes, with Leo following after him dutifully.

“What was that all about?” I asked Nico.

“No idea, but we need to find out ASAP.”

“I’m on it.”

He beamed out at me. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” He gestured at the patio just a few feet beyond the double archway at the edge of the space. “I need a smoke and you need a bit of a break.”

I really did.

We made our way out onto the patio and settled over at the far end, away from everyone and everything, as Nico fired up a smoke.

“Who was that priest who married us?” I asked him. “He certainly wasn’t Leone-sanctioned, not from the family church.”

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