Page 20 of Wedlocked

I couldn’t help but giggle. Nothing ever floored my brother, yet Isabella could have knocked him over with a feather. Then he glowered, his eyes hardened silver. “My sister is marrying a damn monster. I apologize if a smile isn’t plastered over my face.”

Isabella huffed out a breath. “Ethan is not a monster. He’s a product of his environment and his upbringing. He never had any choice in the matter.” She thrust her bouquet into his hands. “Hold these, would you, while I finish fixing your sister’s dress. It is her wedding day after all. Perhaps being happy for her would help settle her nerves.”

I almost snorted. My brother had met his match! A pity his face was stonier than ever.

Isabella fussed over my gown, patting down any imaginary wrinkles in the fabric before she finally straightened. “Right, you look gorgeous and ready to walk down that aisle.” She turned back to my brother and held out her hand like she was a regal princess awaiting her flowers. She cocked a dark brow. “I’ll have my bouquet back now…unless you want to carry them instead?”

“I don’t recall being your lackey,” Salvatore bit out before banging the flowers back into her grasp.

Isabella looked at me. “Is your brother’s ego usually so brittle?”

“No.” I looked between them, smirking at the hostility burning between them. “Salvatore usually charms the ladies with very little effort.”

Isabella snorted. “Now that I’d love to see.”

One of the soldiers from the front door walked toward us, murmuring something into his earpiece before he said, “It’s time.”

Salvatore looked at the man with an icy death stare. But then, as far as my family was concerned, anyone in the Agostino family was sworn enemies. It was kill or be killed.

I knew that now better than anyone.

I sucked in a steadying breath, the sickly-sweet scent of my bouquet filling my lungs and making my hands tremble. “I’m ready,” I lied.

Chapter Twelve

Ethan

I was numb, I had to be just to stand near the altar without feeling like the devil incarnate. The priest who waited patiently for my bride to arrive was probably muttering prayers under his breath just for being in my presence.

I inhaled slowly, my gaze moving over the wedding guests filling up the pews. For fuck’s sake. I’d expected less than half this crowd. No doubt dear old dad had decided this spectacle was needed to further advance the family’s already considerable reputation.

Not one of the other mobster families would dare go against us now, not with the so called alliance I’d created with the Costas by marrying Sabrina. My dad might abhor them but he wasn’t above me using them for our own gain.

I glanced at the front pew, my stare for a moment resting on my father. His eyes glinted with victory, as though he’d read my thoughts. I didn’t react, didn’t give away any of my emotions. I’d learned long ago to not give him ammunition and to school my features into an impassive mask, because if I was the devil incarnate, he was the devil himself. I was only surprised the roof hadn’t fallen in on us all.

Then the organist began to play and the assembly stood, their attention diverted just like mine to the entrance of the cathedral, where the double doors slowly opened. My sister entered first, looking gorgeous in her silver fitted gown and matching heeled shoes befitting the matron of honor. White flowers contrasted beautifully with her upswept black hair.

But my gaze was already moving past her to my bride-to-be. My lungs tightened as my breath caught in my throat. Lord have mercy on my soul, she was exquisite, her beauty captivating. An angel sent to save my wicked soul.

I withheld a grimace. She might look like an angel but she’d been brought up in the same kind of household as my own, her soul no doubt tainted like mine. Her virtue didn’t make her a saint. She might even have used her innocence to enslave me.

That it had worked sent a frisson of dark fury through me. I should have known better. I’d learned the hard way never to trust anyone. That I couldn’t even trust myself was a bitter pill to swallow.

And yet…the way Sabrina held herself, so strong and indomitable, a force to be reckoned with, had my every cell responding to her, each one vibrating with a higher frequency until insidious yearning replaced the rage. No other woman would ever outshine her, just as no other woman would ever be able to replace her. For as long as I had her and kept her alive, she was mine.

I was only vaguely aware of her brother, Salvatore whose features were so very similar to hers, though how I didn’t damn well connect the dots earlier when I’d first seen her, I had no idea! The similarities between them were striking. That they’d probably lived through hell together meant they would be closer than most siblings.

Salvatore stepped next to the priest on the opposite side of the altar to Isabella, who then took Sabrina’s bouquet. The priest greeted everyone and invited them to sing an opening hymn. I ignored the request and instead reached for Sabrina’s hands, my whole body jolting at the contact even before her unique amber and peach scent reached my nostrils as I drew her closer, searching her beautiful eyes.

Was she experiencing the same profound, unshakeable belief in our marriage that I was? So much so I was only vaguely aware of the hymn ending and the priest beginning his opening prayer.

A shiver skated down my spine. The good Lord alone would know we’d need every prayer to be answered and then some if this marriage was to last, and if I could keep my wife alive for the duration.

The priest finished his prayer and the assembly sat on their pews, a sudden, breathless quiet falling through the cathedral as everyone waited for our vows. I was thankful then for my flawless memory, which enabled me to speak my vows in a strong, forceful voice that revealed not an ounce of the emotion that threatened to commandeer me.

That Sabrina’s vows were also spoken in such an unaffected voice shouldn’t have impacted me so…negatively. It was hypocritical to imagine she’d reveal her personal feelings when she’d likely grown up having to stamp down any show of emotion, any weakness, just like I had.

My eyes narrowed. What had she gone through? Had her father been as sadistic to her as what mine had been to me? Was her colorless voice a testament to her ability to endure and adapt in a world few people would survive in?

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