When Villains Rise (Anti-Heroes in Love 2)

“Get dressed and come back into the chapel,” he ordered before taking both my hands in his and kissing each cheek, his countenance so warm, I could feel the heat of his love coming off his skin in waves. “Che la vostra vita insieme sia come il buon vino.”

May your life together be like fine Italian wine.

It was an old, cheesy blessing fathers often imparted at weddings in our country.

I blinked at him as he stepped away and closed the door behind him.

On the small wooden table beside the votive candles lay a box.

Valentino was embossed in gold on the top.

My heart stopped then restarted with an abrupt bang that ached in my ribs.

With trembling fingers, I notched my fingernails under the lid and lifted.

Inside lay snowy white silk carefully folded into tissue paper and a note written on plain card stock.

Wear this tonight.

Xoxo,

Your Capo

Eighteen

Elena

Of course, the dress fit perfectly.

It was vintage Valentino, luxurious and simple silk cut exactly to my proportions so the straight skirt skimmed my waist and hips and the bodice hugged my minimal curves. The sleeves were long, but the material was cut baring my shoulders and upper chest.

It was elegant perfection and I knew without confirmation that Dante had bought it for me himself.

I had ash in my hair from the burning car and my shoes were scuffed from my travels. There was no mirror in the small rectory so I couldn’t check my makeup and I only had a small brush folded in my purse along with a tiny bottle of Chanel Number Five perfume and a dying tube of red lipstick.

I was in a city I’d once condemned for the memories it harbored in a tiny chapel without friends or family or society photogs to capture the moment for page six.

Dante and I had only been together romantically for one month.

One month of car chases and abductions.

Of sex and exploration.

Of romance and tension.

A single month that felt like an entire lifetime.

A lifetime I never wanted to end.

So, I didn’t care.

Not a single fucking bit about any of the reasons I shouldn’t marry Edward Dante Salvatore.

The man who had taught me how to love and life again.

The man who had brought me back to myself.

I loved him before I even knew how to identify the feeling and maybe that was why it happened, because it was done before I could think to stop it.

Loving him had sparked the mass of tinder and kindling I’d stacked in my lonely soul for years, just waiting for someone to come along and ignite it. It had started in my heart and spread like wildfire through my veins, melting the frozen tundra I’d made of myself for too long. Now, it raged within me, eternal and inextinguishable.

Everything that tried to get between us only proved to fuel the flames.

And I knew in my bones that would never change.

What happened when two villains fell in love?

Was there a happily-ever-after for people like us?

I wasn’t sure and, uncharacteristically, I didn’t care.

The only thing I knew for sure was that Dante made me feel so alive I burned and I wanted to spend every single chaotic, beautiful day of the rest of my life smoldering at his side.

I smoothed my hands down the cool silk, took a bracing breath of the stale air, and opened the door.

My sister stood outside it holding a bouquet of pure red roses.

I blinked.

Cosima had changed out of Mirabella Ianni’s singed wedding dress and veil into a simple poppy patterned dress, but there was still grim on her face and a thin cut down one arm. Even though she’d told me she was unharmed, relief coursed through me.

She swept her gaze over me from the base of the slight silk train to the top of my head, a smile blooming across her face that was so beautiful, it took my breath away.

“You are perfect,” she proclaimed softly as she handed me the flowers. “These are from the groom.”

The groom.

I shivered.

“This is too surreal,” I told her honestly. “I feel as if I’m in a dream.”

“Good. It’s about time some of those came true for you.”

“I’m not going to cry,” I warned her firmly, even though my throat was tight and my nose itched with looming tears. “I’ve been doing that way too much lately.”

She laughed, reaching forward to cup my cheek in her slim hand. “Crying is the bodies way of expressing emotion that’s too big for words. It doesn’t make you weak, Lena, and I’m happy to hear you’re just feeling again.”

“I know it doesn’t. This is the first time in my life I’ve ever felt invincible and it’s with enemies all around us actively trying to bring us down.”

“Dante’s enemies,” she amended with a curious glint in her eyes.

I shrugged. “So, they’re my own.”

She grinned again and surged forward like a stray wave to cover me in a fierce hug. “Ti amo. Sono orgogliosa di essere tua sorella.”