Page 27 of The Villain's Beloved (The Villain's Duet 2)

I leaned closer, dragging a finger down her neck before placing a gentle kiss below her ear. “Marry me, Charlotte Moore. Now.”

She trembled, and her warm breath caressed my cheek, the vein in her neck pulsing rapidly. “Okay,” she whispered, and I was sure my heart would explode.

I smiled, taking her hand, bringing it up to my lips, her scent of gentle jasmine intensifying the already potent love I felt for this woman.

Father Gillian stepped up. “Are we ready to start?”

The moment she smiled at me, I nodded. “We are. Oh, and Father,” I glanced at him, “skip to the important parts.”

“Of course.” Draped around his arm was a long velvet ribbon, and he took it in his hand. “As per the groom’s request, we will perform the handfasting ceremony. Now, join your hands, and with your hands, your hearts.”

Charlotte stared at me, confused, and I reached out, crossing hands—taking her right hand with my right, and left hand with my left. Our relationship had been everything but conventional, and I wanted us to be bound and joined in every way possible. And what better way than being bound together before God?

Father Gillian started winding the white ribbon around our hands while we never took our eyes off one another for a single moment.

“These are the hands of the one you love and adore. On this day, you promise to love and honor one another for all your days. Reaching out to the one you love, may you find strength. Standing side by side, may you find partnership. Sharing responsibilities and chores, may you find equality and ease. Helping each other in daily life and works, may you find fulfillment. Loving each other through dark and light times, may you find power. Look deeply into one another’s eyes now, and promise always to see one another through the eyes of love. As you hold hands, may you warmly hold one another’s hearts. Our wish for you is that you build an extraordinary life together. May your marriage be all you two would choose it to be.”

I felt every word, prayed it, even. She was the woman I adored, the one I vowed to love and honor until the day I took my last breath. In her I found my fulfillment, my light, my strength. And there was no other way I’d ever look at her other than as the one I loved with all my goddamn heart.

With the ribbon draped around our hands, binding and unbreakable, I experienced this divine moment where, for the first time in so very long, I believed. I believed in goodness, love. I believed in God, because there was no other way to explain the whirlwind of emotions that crashed against every bone in my body.

The priest took a step back. “Do you, Elijah Mariano, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she smiled as it lapped over her beautiful heart-shaped lips. Her palm squeezed mine beneath the velvet ribbon, and I tightened my hold on hers.

“Do you, Charlotte Moore, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

For some reason, I stopped breathing, waiting for her to say the two words that meant more to me than all the riches in this entire goddamn world. Two words that had the power to break me as easily as they could make me whole.

Her hand trembled in mine, her gaze soft and eyes filled with so much emotion I could practically feel it wrap around me.

“I do.” More tears trickled down her face, and I didn’t wait for the priest to say the words. I fucking kissed her, pressing my desperate lips against hers, tasting her tears on my tongue.

“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

But I was already kissing her as if she held the oxygen I needed to stay alive. With our hands bound and our lips locked, I poured every ounce of love a man like me was capable of feeling into that kiss. If all the words disappeared today, I wanted her to know how much I loved her simply by tasting my lips on hers.

“I love you,” I said against her wet lips, every word stemming from the most vulnerable corner in my heart. “I love you so much it fucking hurts.”

Father Gillian cleared his throat at my use of the f-bomb, and Charlotte snickered.

“Okay, lovers,” Saint intervened. “Let’s not make the priest spill his entire bottle of holy water on the two of you.”

I turned to Father Gillian. “You’ve taken care of the paperwork?”

He nodded. “Everything is taken care of.”

“Thank you, Father.”

We gave each other a knowing look—a debt paid and settled, never to be spoken about again. With that, he turned and left just as Mila, Saint’s wife, started unwinding the ribbon. “Congratulations, you two.”

“Charlotte, this is Milana Russo. Milana,” I smiled, “this is my wife, Charlotte.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Charlotte,” Milana greeted politely.

“Come on, wife,” Saint reached out and snaked an arm around Milana’s waist, “let’s leave the newlyweds. Elijah,” he shot me a pointed stare, “see you two at the hotel for dinner?”

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