Page 22 of Tainted Princess
Keeping my eyes fixed on the tattoo peeking out of Enzo’s shirt, I whispered, “I do,” and the words were like lead in my throat.
I didn’t hear the priest as he repeated the vow, but when Enzo finally spoke, committing his life to me as I had done to him, his voice was like whiskey over broken glass, deep and warm, and it caused a shiver to roll down my spine that I tried desperately to hide.
My heart rate spiked, panic grasping hold when I realized that it was done; I was married, and there was no coming back from it.
It seemed everyone had the same thought, disbelief that it had actually happened, because no one spoke.
A few breaths later, the priest cleared his throat. “Do you have rings?”
Enzo reached into his pocket, digging around for a second before he found what he was looking for—two rings, one bright, the other dark. He held the smaller ring up, the plain white gold band pinched between his thumb and finger, and just waited.
When I finally looked at him, barely lifting my eyes and peeking through my lashes, he was smirking at me, his face giving nothing away except his contempt for the situation
Finally realizing what he wanted, I raised my left hand from where it had been dangling uselessly at my side, and he reached out for it, grasping my wrist and sliding the ring on to my finger. The back of his left hand was adorned with an intricate tattoo of a black lotus, and I marveled that a man who exuded such strength and power would have a tattoo of a delicate flower, but I blinked the thought away as I held out my hand for his ring, intending to put it on his finger for him as he and done for me.
Looking at my open palm, Enzo scoffed as he slid his own ring on and replaced his hands in his pockets.
Jesus, this guy. He was just so cold and callous, his disdain so evident, I could hardly believe he had agreed to this.
Well, I wasn’t about to let some nobody walk all over me. I was done with that. If he was going to be my husband—and according to God and the State of New York he was now—then we were going to establish some ground rules, and the first lesson he needed to learn was that disrespecting me was completely unacceptable.
Gritting my teeth, I raised my chin, facing him head on, and loved the way his eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“Uh,” the priest hesitated, clearly done with the tension in this room, “you may kiss the bride?”
He phrased it as a question, and I laughed inside when Enzo moved, leaning over and aiming to place a kiss on my mouth, but instead I turned my head at the last moment, forcing him to land his lips on my cheek, where their surprising warmth created a tingle of sensation on my skin.
His huff of annoyance had me biting my lip to hide my smile, but I dipped my head and turned back to the Nave, hoping no one noticed my blush.
Why had such a small kiss sent such a shock of electricity thought me?
Shaking it off, I stared at the assembled men, waiting for the next step. No one moved for a moment, likely still in shock from the whole thing, then Don Carlo stood, reaching for my shoulders and placing a kiss on my other cheek, this one with significantly less spark.
He then turned to shake Enzo’s hand, and as if a signal had been given, the other men all moved, congratulating Enzo on his promotion and welcoming him to the Family, all while I stood and watched them walk away, leaving me on my own.
Again.
Sighing once more, wishing for the thousandth time that my father had been here with me today, I gathered my skirts in my hand and started back down the aisle by myself, not at all the joyful bride I dreamed I would be.
I was stopped as I entered the vestibule by a gentle hand on my arm. Turning, I found the kind eyes of Giuseppe, my new father-in-law, smiling down at me.
“Welcome to the family, Francesca.”
“Thank you, SignoreArgenti.”
“Please,cara mia, none of that. We are truly family now, so you call me by my name at least.”
“Of course. Giuseppe. Thank you.”
He continued to stare at me, searching my face for something, and I could tell he found it when he frowned.
My fear.
I didn’t want to be afraid. I had been through so much in these last months, lost everything that had ever mattered to me, and as of today, I had even lost my last name.
There was also the fact that I knew absolutely nothing about my new husband. I wasn’t stupid; I had seen the other wives come to events, some with bruises, some with worse. I knew that as my husband, Enzo could put his hands on me anytime he wanted, and there would be no one to do anything about it.
Except me.
