Please don’t hurt me.
His gaze snaps to Dante, then back to me, and as if he can read my thoughts, a soft smile forms around his full lips.
I won’t.
Reaching the front, my father gives my cheek an air kiss, and then he nods at Lucian before he leaves to go sit next to Dante.
Lucian's eyes drift over me and then murmurs, “You look breathtaking.”
I try to smile, but it probably looks like a grimace.
The ceremony begins, and with every word the priest speaks, the shaking in my hands grows. By the time we’re done with candle lighting, my breaths are rushing from my lips.
God, I’m getting married.
This is it.
There’s no running away.
When it’s time for the vows, I feel faint.
I glance at the guests, and again my eyes connect with Dante’s. He looks like he’s going to pull a gun on us at any moment.
It could’ve been Dante standing in front of you.
Lucian reaches for my face, and placing his finger beneath my chin, he nudges me to look at him. When our eyes lock, all the guests disappear, even Dante, and then it’s only the two of us.
And our vows.
Lucian takes hold of my left hand and gives it an encouraging squeeze, then the priest says, “Lucian, repeat after me.”
The priest recites the vows, but all I hear is Lucian’s voice as he promises, “I, Lucian Cotroni, take thee, Elena Lucas, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
“Elena, repeat after me.”
My lips part, and then I hear my own voice, and it sounds much stronger than I feel as I say my vows to Lucian.
Lucian’s fingers tighten around mine when I say, “Till death do us part.”
It will be the only way to escape now that we’ve said our vows and exchanged rings. I only half noticed the ring Lucian wore on his right hand is the one we used as a wedding ring for him.
“Lucian, do you take Elena Lucas as your wife?”
Lucian doesn’t hesitate. “I do.”
This is it.
God.
“Elena, do you take Lucian Cotroni as your husband?”
My mouth dries, and I swallow hard. At least it’s not Dante. Seconds pass before I manage to say, “I do.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
Husband.
Wife.
Marriage.
Lucian lifts a hand to my cheek, and then he leans into me. His lips brush tenderly against mine, and it makes emotions rocket through me. Overwhelmed, I begin to blink to try and keep the tears at bay.
I feel Lucian’s breath on my lips as he pulls back, and then the priest says, “Mr. and Mrs. Cotroni.”
“Elena Cotroni,” Lucian murmurs, a satisfied grin spreading over his face. “My wife.”
Chapter 19
LUCIAN
My wife.
God, she’s beautiful.
I can’t keep my eyes off Elena and only listen with half an ear as Judge Fico rambles on about the new yacht he bought.
She’s a vision in the wedding dress where she’s standing next to Aunt Ursula. They’re talking to a group of wives from the most prominent families in Italy.
“Excuse me,” I say, and then I walk to Elena. Touching her elbow, I get her attention, and then I ask the other women, “May I steal my wife for a dance?”
The women all swoon as I tug Elena away from them. I move my hand down to hers and linking our fingers, I lead her to the dance floor that’s been set up on the other side of the fountain.
A song with a beat is playing, and not caring, I pull Elena into my arms. I ignore the beat and instead focus on the female vocals. My hands brush over her back, and I savor the feel of her smooth skin.
The dress she’s wearing is sexy as fuck, the back exposed all the way to her lower back. The possessive side of me wants to shrug off my jacket and cover her so no other man can see, but I suppress the urge.
Elena places her hands on my shoulders, and her eyes only meet mine for a second before she glances at the fountain.
“Look at me,” I murmur. When her gaze locks with mine, my lips curve up. “That’s better.”
The current song fades away, and then an alternate version of Take Me To Church begins to play.
I pull Elena tightly against me, and moving a hand behind her head, I press my forehead against hers. I feel her exhale on my lips, and my fingers curl into her silky hair.
Slowly, I tilt my head, and I let my mouth brush against the corner of her mouth. We’re breathing the same air as I whisper, “Move your hands behind my neck.”
Elena does as I ask, and feeling her fingers on my skin makes streaks of heat flash through my body.