In forty minutes, I manage to get a marriage license and wedding rings. I’m sure as fuck not shoving just any ring onto Mariya’s finger and got her the biggest diamond I could find in Vegas.
Back at the chapel, Mariya keeps laughing, finding it hysterically funny that they’re officiating a mob wedding for us – a bratva princess and the head of the fucking Italian mafia.
Wearing a simple white cocktail dress, she looks stunning. Then again, she’ll look gorgeous in anything. A happy smile never leaves her face as she stares up at me, her eyes sparkling like polished stones.
I’ve never seen her like this – carefree. She’s always been overly polite or downright cold. But not tonight. Not with the alcohol rushing through her blood.
If I didn’t know any better, I would’ve mistaken the sparkle for love. Knowing that’s not the case, I need to get this wedding done before she sobers up.
I impatiently gesture for Elvis to hurry the fuck up. He rambles through the practiced lines until I finally get to push my ring onto Mariya’s finger.
It looks perfect on her.
I clear my throat, then lock eyes with Mariya. “You probably won’t remember a word I say, but I’m going to say it anyway.” My hand grips hers, and our fingers intertwine. “You’re the only woman for me, Mariya. I’ve waited patiently while building my empire, and now that I’m the head of –” I catch myself before saying Italian mafia in front of Elvis. “Now that I’m at the top, there’s only one thing missing from my life.” I step closer to her as I admit, “You.” My thumb brushes over the diamond on her finger. “Everything I have, everything I am, is yours, Mariya.”
After I have to help her push the ring on my finger, she places a hand against my jaw and stares up at me again. “Do you feel it, Luca?”
“What?”
She stumbles slightly into my chest, then leans against me, her right hand gripping my shoulder. I wrap one arm around her to keep her standing.
With drunken bravery, she says, “The pull between us?”
My lips curve up. “I definitely feel every spark and sizzle, baby.”
Her smile grows with satisfaction. “Good.” She lets out a chuckle. “It’s not just me.”
Grinning, I ask, “Are those your vows?”
She shakes her head, tears starting to shimmer in her eyes. Her fingers brush over my cheek and jaw, her eyes filling with a look I haven’t seen before.
“I can’t cook or do anything wives are supposed to do, but I love you, and I’m hoping that will be enough.”
The words hit like a Tsunami. Hearing Mariya say she loves me knocks the air from my lungs. I’m so fucking stunned, I can only stare at her.
How the fuck did I not know? How did I miss it?
“It drives me insane,” Mariya continues. “I’ve loved you forever.” Unsteady on her feet, she leans heavier into me. “Plus, I’m good in bed.” A mischievous smile tugs at her lips. “Really good.”
I’m still recovering from the shock of hearing she loves me when she chuckles, ‘I do,’ binding herself to me for life.
Slowly my mouth curves up, intense satisfaction flooding my chest.
Jesus Christ.
It’s done.
Mariya actually went through with marrying me and said she loves me.
Guilt threatens to ruin the moment because I took advantage of her intoxicated state, but I shove that shit deep down.
Lifting my hands, I frame her face, the black wedding band on my ring finger, reminding me we’re bound until death. “You’re mine, Mariya Cotroni.”
Christ, hearing my last name attached to her name is everything.
My eyes drift over her beautiful features, unbelief filling my veins. Every ounce of my love, the possessiveness she makes me feel, and my obsession with her are clear as fucking day in my voice. “My wife.”
She scrunches her nose, looking happier than I’ve ever seen her. “I like that.”
Lowering my head, I tenderly press my mouth to hers. I take a deep breath of the fresh scent always floating around her, and the moment her lips part, my tongue slips inside her heat, savoring her unique taste.
Unlike earlier in the club, I’m overly conscious of every stroke of her velvety tongue against mine. I imprint the kiss deep in my heart, knowing it might have to last me a while before I get to kiss her again.
I have no doubt Uncle Alexei will probably lose his shit, and he might pull a gun on me, but Mariya’s worth facing death for.
That’s if Mariya doesn’t try to kill me herself when she wakes up tomorrow with my ring on her finger.
I tilt my head, deepening the kiss until I’m devouring her.
None of that matters because she’s mine.
All. Fucking. Mine.
The realization hits again, washing over me like a tidal wave.
Mariya’s married to me.
Tomorrow all hell might break loose, but I’ll face whatever comes my way because there’s no way I’m letting her go.