Page 24 of Welcome to the Sins of Blackstone
“That this city already answers to you.”
The shipment is done. The deal is settled.
But the real war? It’s only just beginning.
Chapter 11
Maria
The soft hum of the church organ fills the air, but it does nothing to slow my racing heart.
I stand at the grand wooden doors of the same church where generations of my family have married, and today, it’s my turn. My fingers curl tightly around the bouquet in my hands. The scent of fresh roses and my mother’s old perfume lingers in the lace of my dress, the dress that once belonged to her.
It’s my something old. My something borrowed. And now, with the changes I made, it is something new.
I exhale sharply, my stomach twisting, but not with fear. With certainty. With love.
Jo touches my arm gently. “Breathe, Maria.” She smiles, she hasn’t left my side all week, wanting to be part of every step of the wedding.
I nod once, and as the doors swing open, my breath catches in my throat.
Everything slows, and there Massimo stands at the altar, his posture rigid, his black suit perfectly tailored, every inch of him a man carved by power, by control. But the moment our eyes meet something breaks.
A muscle in his jaw twitches. His fingers flex, and in his dark, stormy eyes, I see it.
I see everything.
I see it all in him, how he kissed me like I was his salvation, touched me like I might break, and looks like he’d burn the world to keep me.
My uncle walks beside me, his grip steady on my arm, but I barely feel it. I only feel him.
I reach the altar, my uncle glances between us both before taking my hand and placing it in Massimo’s. His hand is warm, inviting, and when he curls his fingers around mine, I feel safe.
He stands in front and begins. I zone out the words, all while I take in the man I’m about to marry.
“Do you, Maria Rossi, take Massimo Messina to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The question brings me back to the now, and I smile.
I swallow hard, looking up at him. Massimo is watching me. Just me.
“I do.” The moment the words leave my lips, his grip on my hands tightens.
My uncle turns to him. “And do you, Massimo Messina, take Maria Ros?—”
“I do.”
His voice is low. Firm. Unshakable.
A small chuckle slips from me, a ripple of laughter breaks from a few guests, quick, before the silence swallows the room again.
My uncle gives a small nod. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Massimo reaches for me, lifting my veil slowly, his fingers grazing my cheek. His touch burns. His gaze flickers down to my lips, then back to my eyes, asking for permission he doesn’t need, and then, he kisses me.
It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s a claim.
His lips press against mine with possession, with promise. The church disappears. The guests vanish. The only thing that exists is the heat of his mouth, the pressure of his hands pulling me closer. Everything around me vanishes…The only sound I hear is…
Gunfire.
