Page 42 of Devious Kingpin
I’d seen it enough to recognize it.
The priest spoke wedding vows while she avoided my eyes for the duration of the ceremony. Her bottom lip was raw from her chewing on it, and when it was her turn to say “I do,” I half expected her to say “no.” Not that it would make much difference since we were married already.
Thank God she didn’t and a relieved breath left my lungs.
It was time to slip on the wedding ring and I held her trembling hand firmly, noting her shivers. I wanted to assure her she was safe. Maybe the knowledge of the DiLustros and the fear of the Syndicate was ingrained so deep inside her that she was terrified of us.
Though it made no sense. Her cousin was married to my cousin. They’d had a few hiccups along the road, but they were happy. Couldn’t she see that we could be happy too?
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest announced, interrupting my internal monologue that pretty much resembled rambling. It was what this woman did to me every-fucking-time.
I didn’t hesitate. I cupped Juliette’s face and pressed my lips against hers.
She stiffened but didn’t pull back.
And I… I was done the second her lips touched mine. My fingers gripped her nape, pulling her closer to me. I swept my tongue along the seam of her mouth and her lips parted with a gasp. It made me groan. She tasted better than anything on this fucking planet.
Sugarplums. Christmas. Home.
All fucking wrapped in one. Too sweet. Too perfect.
My heart thundered so hard, it cracked my soul and clung to this woman. I’d lock her inside me and throw away the key. I bit her lower lip, then eased the sting by sweeping my tongue over it.
Then she pulled back. Abruptly.
Her lips were swollen. Her face was pale. My wife met my gaze head-on. It was full of defiance and something else.
Something dark.
* * *
The ballroom of the hotel hosted the reception.
I had no idea who pulled this off or how in such a short time, but they’d done it. Maybe it helped that a lot of the visitors were already here for Emory’s birthday party.
Like the Morrellis. Or Cassio King and his family. The Nikolaevs. And then there were the Ashfords. There were a few that weren’t here. Not that they mattered. The only woman I cared about and the only family I needed were here.
After we’d accepted congratulations from our guests, the buffet opened up. Juliette and I sat down together at the table. Her father, aunt, and my own father sat along with us. Everyone chatted, trying to keep the atmosphere light, but Juliette was tense throughout the meal. She hardly ate anything, her eyes darting longingly to the exit.
“No more running, Juliette,” I said softly into her ear so only she could hear it.
The look she gave me resembled that of a deer in the headlights. She looked terrified. It was the last thing I expected from someone like her.
She stood up, excused herself, and walked over to her friends. My father’s eyes followed her, then returned to me.
“This was rushed,” he said, sounding less than impressed.
“This was two years in the making,” Liam shot back. “Didn’t your son tell you he asked for her hand?”
I didn’t tell my father I’d asked to marry Juliette. It had hardly been the time since Basilio lay in the hospital and Priest was still coming to grips with learning who his real mother was. Besides, Juliette’s message on my antique car was received loud and clear. She’d refused me, therefore there was nothing to talk about.
Killian rolled his eyes. “You Italians,” he hissed. “Always looking for trouble.”
My eyes tightened, but I decided to ignore him. It was my wedding day. No sense in starting my union with bloodshed. With my brother-in-law, nonetheless.
“Very much like the Irish,” I drawled. I got up and buttoned my suit before another smart-ass comment came my way and this wedding turned bloody. “Excuse me.”
I grabbed my scotch, moving toward my cousin and brother standing close to the buffet.
