Page 3 of Iron Bride

“Does anyone actually say po-tah-toe. I mean—”

The air left my lungs the instant she came into view. It was those crystal eyes that sparkled brighter than the diamond studs on her ears that did me in.

Ihatedmy cold, treacherous bride with a passion–but thoseeyesdid something to me. She had no business having such stunning windows into her perfidious soul.

It had been seven years since I’d seen her. It was at our ‘engagement party’ when we formally announced this travesty. I had placed the obnoxious ten carat diamond on her skinny hand.

She was a frizzy-haired, zit-covered thing.

Well, ugly ducklings, and swans and all that…

She glided toward me, her arm linked with her weeping mum, Cosima Durante. The witch was dressed from head to toe in the black of mourning. Like she was attending her daughter’s funeral, instead of her wedding.

I could make the change in program if she wanted…

With their steps in time with the melancholy rendition of “In the Bleak Midwinter”, there was a thawing in my bride’s exterior. It was slight. But I had never seen it before. The closer she got the clearer it was. It was a single unshed tear that lined the lower lashes of her left eye.

Like the Madonna weeping.

“Doesn’t she look lovely?” Randa nudged me with her shoulder. “Your mouth is open, Cill.”

“If you say so,” I grumbled, shutting my lips.

Randa was right. But I would never admit it.

It didn’t matter how great the prize was if it wasn’t my choice.

I could never call off this joke of a wedding. My parents would never allow it, since it kept the peace between us and the Mafia rebels who groused and moped underfoot, promising to overthrow their Irish masters. My father should have crushed them all instead of granting leniency during the great war.

When Giovanna Durante stood before me, her mother kissed her cheek. The two gazed at each other as if she was about to set sail on a transport ship to Australia.A bit dramatic, if you ask me.

The bride raised her chin, clenched her jaw, and turned to me with great disdain. “Cillian.”

The tear in her eye disappeared, and she was the regal frigid flower once again. A marble statue, covered with icicles.

My name was a curse on her pretty lips.So why hadn’t she called this wedding off?

My parents would have granted her that. They were protective of her. They loved her. They doted on her and spoiled her far more than their own children, and I didn’t know why. Even my father looked at her with a level of gentleness he didn’t have for his own spawn.

“You came,” I whispered, as I took her hand in mine and bowed, pressing my lips to the back of her knuckles.

If we were in a medieval arrangement, then I would play the part.

She lifted an irritated brow.

“The Green family called.” She stepped away from me for a moment, then quietly mumbled, “Like your dogs, the Durantes must obey.”

I smiled, despite myself.

“I should place a collar on this pretty throat.” I reached out and grazed the back of my index finger along her pretty pulse point.

Her skin flushed at my insult. She might be a marble bitch, but I did delight in her annoyance. It showed me that there was a beating heart somewhere under that cold exterior.

“It’s been seven years, little Gia. You’ve been far away in Boston.” I looped my arm around hers, tugging her closer to me. “I’ve missed you.”

I said it to annoy her, and to punish myself.

How easily these words of lovers slipped from my mouth. How I desired them to be true.

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