Page 86 of A Fine Line

He smiles down at me, his fingers tightening on my hands, and he leans forward and places a soft kiss on my nose. He straightens and clears his throat, his expression serious as he stares into my eyes. “Carolina, you’ve been a giant pain in my ass since the moment I laid eyes on you. Even before we met, when all I knew of you was a passing glance on a red carpet, I was completely obsessed. And then, we had that brief moment in Paris, and even though I was briefly deterred by what I assumed was your great treachery, my initial feelings about you never once faltered, hence why I felt driven to hunt you down and stuff you in Dare’s box.” He laughs at this, and everyone in the room who knows the story laughs with him, and surprisingly, the priest doesn’t appear at all concerned.

“I know you’ve been through a lot,” Tony continues, his serious face back in place. “And you have a lot of healing to do, but I hope you trust me to be there for you every step of the way, regardless of whether you need me to lead, guide, or follow.”

He pauses for a minute, blinks a few times, then clears his throat. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, wherever you need me, whether it be behind you, beside you, or in front of you, I’ll be there. I’ll never waver or cower, and I’ll make you kiss me goodnight every night, even on nights where you’d rather slap me through the mouth than kiss me, deservedly so, I’m sure. I won’t pretend to be capable of perfection, but I will promise to try my damnedest every day of my life to be the man you choose to have by your side.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat, completely choked up and shocked by his words and the heartfelt honesty behind them. I try to speak, but a quiet sob comes out, and I press my hand against my lips to prevent myself from completely embarrassing myself.

I look back up at Tony, and he’s smiling at me, obviously exceedingly proud of himself, and I’m suddenly torn between kissing him on the mouth and slapping him through the mouth—wow, I guess he was right.

But then, he squeezes my hands again, leans in, and says, “Green or red, sweetheart? That’s all I ever need to know.”

I clear my throat and manage a grateful smile as I reply, “Green.”

He smiles and nods, then leans in, and presses his lips against mine, totally breaking wedding protocol by not waiting to be told to kiss his bride.

He pulls back, keeping one of my hands in his, and we turn toward our small beaming audience. Everyone claps, and Antoinette, who appears a bit glassy- eyed, is practically bouncing on her feet, clapping louder than the rest.

Tony looks back at me and winks. “Shall we get out of here?”

I nod, happiness bubbling up inside me, and for a moment, if throws me off from the sheer intensity of such an unfamiliar emotion.

We all walk back down the aisle and then spill out on to the sidewalk, strolling through the gate onto the street before turning down a side street. Everyone’s chatting and laughing, enjoying the odd moment of calm in an otherwise chaotic existence.

I feel the shift in the air before I hear the gunshots, I hear the pedestrians screaming before I see the enemy coming, and then I see them pulling Tony away from me before I can adjust my grip and keep hold of him.

I move toward him, intent on grabbing him, but then I’m knocked backward, pushed to the ground by the force of another body. My ears ring, and I roll to my hands and knees, looking around wildly, but he’s gone.

He’s not there.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Tony

Thatmusthavebeenwhat romantics meant when they said their hearts were full.

That’s all I keep thinking about as I lie here in my current predicament.

I’ve watched enough crime thrillers and epic mobster dramas to know how this shit works. Just as soon as you think everything is going well and everyone’s gonna get a happily ever after, some crazy shit goes down.

Because the old adage that love is blind is true.

That’s the only excuse I can come up with for missing all the signs that something terrible was going to happen.

In my defense, we all missed it. We all sashayed out of that church, all smiles and cheer, completely unprepared for the hellfire about to rain down on us.

Dare tried to yell a warning, but it was too late, and before I could even react, I was being ripped away by more hands than I could reasonably count. When the gunfire started, I couldn’t tell who was hitting the ground for cover and who was falling to the ground, dead.

And as I was being yanked away, dragged, kicking, and fighting—the number of men on me more than I could overcome—Carolina made a move to grab me, only to be knocked back mid-motion, the champagne silk of her dress floating around her.

At that point, I fought harder, unable to look away as I watched everyone I know be cut down, completely unable to save them.

Now, here I am, impotent and immobilized, likely to be tortured and killed in the obscenest fashion, or perhaps their torture is to leave me to die in this box.

But if they’re all truly dead, do I even care?

A trail of warmth slides from the corner of my eyes into my hair, and I curse at myself, taking a deep breath and shoving it back down.

In the meantime, if this box opens and they give me so much as a sliver of opportunity to gain my freedom, I’ll take it.

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