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I don’t have to ask what he means as my eyes gaze over the enormous crowd that has gathered to watch this wedding. Every single one of their heads turns to face me as the bridal chorus starts playing. I’m sure whoever was in charge of invites had a pissing contest with the Vitales to see who could invite more people, because I’m sure the royal wedding had about the same amount of people.

The walk down the aisle is antagonising, but as I look to the front, I nearly freeze in my spot. Antonio looks perfect, and I’m sure under very different circumstances, I would’ve sprinted down the aisle towards him, but he looks like everything I’ll never have.

His hair is slicked back, keeping his curls tamed and out of his face, aside from one stray curl that manages to slip onto his forehead. His light green eyes bore into mine as he watches me like a hunter watching its prey, except with what looks like a bit of disgust. He pulls his eyes from me and looks down at the floor.

Great. Even my soon-to-be husband thinks I’m disgusting.

As we arrive at the front, I assume my father is going to remove the veil, as most fathers do with this tradition, but when he doesn’t and just kisses my cheek through the veil, I furrow my brows.

He turns to Antonio and whispers, “You can take it off; it symbolises that she’s officially yours.”

My heart thumps against my ribcage at his words, and even Antonio seems taken aback by his words. He simply nods before shaking my father’s hand.

I feel like I have a million eyes on me as I turn to hand Eleanor my flowers, who gives me her usual bright smile.

It’s a brief warmth that immediately turns to ice when I turn and look up at Antonio. His face is a void of emotion, completely apathetic. If I thought it was difficult to read him before, right now it seems impossible.

The service begins and ends smoothly and quickly. Very generic, no self-written vows, just the usualin sickness and in healthfollowed byI do.

But now it’s the moment everyone looks forward to. Everyone except me.

The kiss.

Sure, Antonio isn’t bad-looking, but I can’t help but have a sickly feeling at just how forced this entire thing is.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest says, and the room falls silent in anticipation.

Antonio’s fingertips brush against my arm as he grabs the edges of the veil and lifts it over my head, revealing my face. His eyes search mine, probably looking for a way out, but I don’t give him one. He and I both know this has to happen. What kind of married couple doesn’t kiss at their own wedding?

His hand comes up to rest on my jaw as he takes a step closer. His skin on mine sears like hot iron, and my ability to breathe leaves as he gets even closer.

“Breathe, Theá,” he whispers, and as if possessed by his command, I do as I’m told.

The air is barely out of my lungs before his lips are on mine.

It’s awkward for a split second until I realise I have to kiss him back for this to be believable, and God, does it make me weak in my knees when I do.

His mouth moulds to mine perfectly, and I can’t help myself from moving closer to him. My hands go to grab the front of his shirt as his other hand grabs hold of my waist.

Cheers and wolf whistles erupt from the crowd, and that’s when Antonio pulls back. An uncontrollable whine leaves my throat when he does, and I chase after his lips briefly before reality comes flying back in. I’m not in love with this man. This is all pretend. It’s business. I have to stay focused.

Focus flies out the window when he caresses my cheek, flashes me a bright smile, and then thanks me for the kiss—he fucking thanks me—before grabbing my hand and turning to the crowd, raising it into the air and smiling like a man who just got to marry the love of his life.

The entire crowd erupts into cheers aside from the front two rows filled with everyone who knows the truth. Well, everyone except Mattia, who is surprisingly Antonio’s best man. He cheers along with the crowd as if he doesn’t know the truth, or he’s just happy to finally see his cousin kiss a girl.

Antonio’s kissing abilities are far from average. They’re perfect.

There aren’t many times where I’ll admit I’m wrong, but right now, I have to admit that Antonio just might be as perfect as he says he is.

Chapter eight

Antonio

Takingonthisstupidultimatum from Gabriel was supposed to be easy. I had no interest in being in a relationship after what happened with Valerie last year. I’ve learnt that protecting my heart and peace is more important, or at least that’s what I thought—because the second I laid eyes on Theresa, I was left dumbfounded.

I nearly sent my jaw into a spasm when I first laid eyes on her during the ceremony, but looking at her right now might send me into cardiac arrest.

She’s slipped into a lace two-piece for the reception, and it’s going to kill me. It’s a full lace top with the tiniest pair of matching lace shorts. Her white garter with purple flowers and yellow ribbons taunts me from her upper thigh, and her white heels allow her to match me in height.