Page 21 of Tainted Princess
I could see my grandfather standing near the altar, wearing a frown, his thin gray hair combed neatly. Beside him stood my Uncle Silvio, the smug sneer on his face again, as if it ever left.
The otherCapiwere all there as well, and a small number ofSoldati, including Dino, who stared at me like a kid who’d lost his favorite toy.
As if, Dino.
Squaring my shoulders, I lifted my chin and met each of their eyes, refusing to wither under their stares. Refusing to look weak or afraid or even uncomfortable. Not for a second.
As far as these men were concerned, I was a picture of contentment and acceptance.
Not happiness, though. Never that.
When no one seemed to want to speak, I took matters into my own hands, striding down the aisle between the rows of pews, a woman on a mission.
There was no music or decorations. I held no bouquet, and there was no flower girl to lead me down a path of rose petals.
This was strictly business, and I was ready to be done with it.
As I approached the front, I looked to Giuseppe and asked, “Well, where is he, then?”
I hadn’t really given much thought to the man I was set to marry, not that I’d had much time to dwell on it in the last six days anyway. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I had pictured a man like Dino; someone round and greasy and entirely too self-indulgent. I figured if Enzo was so desperate for a wife that he’d accept me, the Tainted Princess, as they said, he must not have many prospects.
I had been prepared to accept that type of man.
I had never in my wildest imaginings expected the man who stepped out of the arched Transept and moved toward me.
He was tall. That was the first thing I noticed. Big all over, with broad shoulders and narrow hips, the kind of shape you’d find on a swimmer or a boxer. His arms, not visible to me except through the sleeves of his jacket, were clearly thick, the muscles rounding as they reached toward his neck.
He wore black dress pants, a black suit jacket, and a white shirt with no tie and the top two buttons undone, giving me a glimpse of his chest and the scrolling tattoos that crawled to his throat.
Raising my gaze to his face, I was struck by the sheer masculinity of his features. He had a strong jaw that appeared freshly shaved, and his mouth was wide and decidedly unhappy looking. His angry eyes were dark, but whether they were blue or brown I couldn’t tell from here, just that they sat beneath a heavy brow and his dark hair was thick and glossy.
Fuck.
Why the hell did he have to be so handsome? I didn't want to appreciate the way he looked, not when I had to hate everything about this arrangement.
Shaking off my surprise, I moved forward, taking my place at the altar and waiting as he casually approached, not seeming in any kind of hurry to get started.
The other men around us shuffled to their seats, barely filling the first row, and once again my heart clenched at the loss of what this moment was supposed to mean to me.
My father was not here to walk me down the aisle. My grandfather, who normally would have been looking on affectionately, now sat in silence, unable to show me that he loved me—if he even did anymore—because to do so would make him look both weak and suspect.
I was well and truly on my own.
Enzo finally reached the altar, his bored gaze roving over me, starting with my face and moving down to my breasts, secure and hidden behind the high-necked bodice of my dress. When he noticed my distinct lack of visible cleavage, he released a soft snort and rolled his eyes.
Oh, really, Mr. Judgy McJudgerson? Well, fuck you very much.
I narrowed my eyes, but Enzo didn’t look at me again, turning instead to watch as the priest approached us.
It was quiet, awkward even, as the old man went through the motions of the ceremony. This should have been a full Catholic mass, with all the rites and prayers and the receiving of the Eucharist. It would have taken at least an hour, start to finish.
Instead, the old man mumbled a few words about the sanctity of holy matrimony before launching into a shortened version of the vows.
“Do you, Francesca De Marco, take Enzo Argenti as your lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, in sickness and health, for richer or poorer, forsaking all others, till death to you part?”
My breathing stuttered in my chest.Till death do we part? Holy shit, that was a long time.
But that was what this was all about. If I didn't agree to this, if I didn't marry this complete stranger with the angry eyes, I’d beparting in deatha whole lot sooner than I would like.
