Page 4 of Falling for the Enemy

Las Vegas makes you think you can do anything. That was the night it got the best of me. "The owners bumped elbows and started pulling out their dicks, but Isabella stepped forward and said fuck that. She pulled a taser out of her bag and asked them who wanted to take it up the ass. She got us out of there without anyone having to do anything."

Isabella is a wild card, I wasn't kidding. "On one of the scariest nights of my life, she was there to save my ass. She's never asked for a thank you, she's never asked me to pay her back, she's never even brought it up again. Isabella is the kind of girl who gets shit done. Maybe she goes crazy from time to time, but I think it's because she's seen some crazy stuff. It's her way of coping. She should probably go to therapy, but right now this is what she can handle."

Matteo's fingers never stop massaging my foot. His eyes never leave mine. The concern on his face deepens throughout parts of the story, but he never opens his mouth to say anything. It isn't until I'm finished that he pulls out from under my legs and works his way around the booth. His arm brushes against mine and he looks me in the eye. "You're a good friend, Autumn, and so is Isabella."

He smells like cedar and mandarin. Up close, I can see his five o'clock shadow growing back in. I reach up to scrape my fingers against it, a compulsion that I can't hold back.

Matteo's hand reaches up to grasp mine. He closes his eyes in restrained passion and holds my fingers against his face. "Autumn, you're a beautiful woman and you make me feel things that I shouldn't. I want to touch you so badly. I want you."

All of the fantasies I've had about this man come rushing to the forefront of my mind. I want him to strip me bare right here in the dark booth of Cloak & Dagger. I want him to fuck me on this table. But in the back of my mind is the disapproving glare of my father. I can hear my mother's words. I remember my good Catholic upbringing. "Matteo, I can't," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I—I have to wait for marriage." The words nearly break me.

I thought that it wouldn't matter. I thought that if the right man came along, I could forget the silly traditions my parents tried to foist upon me. But parental and religious guilt cut me to the core.

"Then marry me, Autumn Gallagher," Matteo leans forward and presses his forehead to mine. "Not just for tonight, but forever."

Every dispassionate talk about my future betrothal swims through my memories. My father discussing my marriage to an O'Sullivan. My brother shrugging off the significant age difference. My mother happily knitting doilies with our names on them. Autumn O'Sullivan or Autumn Vitale.

"Say yes, Autumn," Matteo groans, "please. You don't know how long I've wanted this."

My family said for years that I would learn to love my betrothed. First comes marriage, then comes affection later on down the line. But deep in my loins I already feel lust for Matteo. While marriage would still come first, love and affection would come sooner than if I married an O'Sullivan. "Yes," I decide in the heat of the moment. It's the only answer; it's the right answer. "I'll marry you, Matteo."

His lips brush against mine and I swear that I see heaven. "You've made me the happiest man alive."

MATTEO

When Lorenzo was married, the family spent thousands of dollars on his wedding. Partially because he is going to be the next head of the family, but also because that's the nature of Italian weddings. We celebrate our own getting married.

Tonight isn't the same.

Autumn wears a borrowed veil from the chapel. It doesn't match her red slip, but she still looks beautiful. She called Isabella and though her friend was upset that we ditched her, she shows up at the chapel ready and willing to be a witness.

"You think you're ready to marry my best friend?" Isabella grills me before the ceremony. "You're going to have a pack of rabid dogs on your hand, my friend. Irish rabid dogs," she insists. "Ginger Irish rabid dogs."

I look past her at Autumn, the only redhead who matters. She's talking to Salvatore, one of my cousins, and another Vitale. He's the witness that I called and the only person I trusted. He makes her laugh and soothes her jitters. "I'll walk through fire for that girl, Isabella."

At midnight, Vegas has plenty of wedding chapels open. Getting married in Vegas is a joke. Getting an annulment from your Vegas wedding is a rite of passage. But tonight I'm just getting married, period.

"Her brother is going to kill you," Isabella reminds me. "And it will be a pleasure to watch him get mad at someone who isn't me for once."

I'm beginning to rethink this friendship with Isabella. "You're very reassuring, thank you."

With a shrug and a pop of her blonde locks, she gives me a bland smile. "I'm always here to help. Anyway, did you get a ring?"

It is uniquely hard to find a jewelry store open this late at night, but calls were made. While Autumn was coercing Isabella into leaving the club and going to the chapel, I was getting Salvatore to open his dad's shop for me. One three-stone princess diamond engagement ring and French pavé wedding band later—and $5,000—we were set. "Yes. It's a wedding, Isabella."

She rolls her eyes at me and adjusts her bandage dress. Strategic parts of her body are covered and she's attracted a lot of attention from the men working at the chapel tonight. "I'm just making sure. Men aren't shit, Mattie."

"It's Matteo," I correct.

"Whatever. They'll say anything to get a woman into bed. If all you want is to fuck Autumn and be done with it, I get it. She's a hot piece of ass and I bet deflowering her is going to be super fun for you. But if I find out that you annul this marriage in a couple of weeks and never speak to her again, I will burn your house down." Isabella gives me a look that shakes me to the core. In no uncertain terms do I think she's joking. "Do I make myself clear, Mattie?"

I don't bother to correct her this time. "Crystal."

Thank God the preacher is ready to start the ceremony. I ran a hand along Autumn's waist as I pass by her as a gesture of comfort. She flashes me a small smile and heads to the end of the small aisle to convene with Isabella.

Salvatore claps me on the shoulder as I make my way onto the altar. "She's a nice girl," he says with a grin. "The family is gonna fuck you up though."

Hers? Mine? Both of ours? The possibilities are endless. But as I stand up there and smile, I forget all about the politics of it all. Autumn walks down the aisle wearing her borrowed veil, looking as beautiful as I've ever seen her. Of all the ways I thought our union would happen, this was never one of them. Somehow though, it's the one that stirs the most emotion.

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