Page 17

I swallow hard, focusing on the officiant. I can't give in to it. I won't.
We say our vows. It's short and crisp. Not the traditional vows. Nothing warm. Nothing promising.To commit and to cherish. To lifelong partnership.His voice is low and steady. It sends an unwanted shiver through me.
“I do,” he says, his eyes locked on mine. The pull tightens, squeezing my chest, forcing the air from my lungs.
The officiant repeats the same words he'd said to Enzo. I hesitate. Am I really binding my life to my enemy?
Am I really doing this? Can I?
My eyes cut to Papa again, and his eyes are twin pools of warning. I force my gaze away from him and I force out my “I do.” My voice is firm, but my insides churn.
The crowd stirs. There are sharp sounds of applause and hoots. Amid the noise, the officiant calls for the kiss. Enzo steps close, his scent—smoke and cedar—wrapping around me, same as that night. My heart pounds, but I hold myself rigid, not betraying my emotions.
He grabs my waist roughly, and pulls me against him, his lips crash into mine. It's like a recall of the kiss we shared before on that night, those days ago, only this time, it's more intense. It’s a fire that sears through me. His mouth is hard and demanding ashe impales me wholly. It's like a branding. He's claiming me. It's him saying I'm his.
I'm his.
His tongue pushes past my lips, unrelenting as it tangles with mine in a way that makes my knees buckle. My hands grip his arms, for support. I feel the hard muscle under his jacket. Like before, I'm well and truly caught. My body is screaming to lean in, to let this storm take me, to let him consume me fully.
I hear the roaring of the crowd, but it’s distant. My world narrowed to this moment, to his lips, his heat, the way he’s owning me.
I fight it. I keep my body stiff, refusing to melt into him. His hand tightens on my waist, his fingers digging into my dress, searing through it to warm my skin. His tongue strokes mine, slow and deliberate, like he’s daring me to break. I won’t.
God, I want to.
I bite his lip. It's not grand, just enough to sting. I taste his blood on my tongue before he pulls back. Through the haze that has clouded my eyes, I see him smirking. His eyes are undoubtedly glinting with amusement.
I step back too, my knees almost giving way. My lips throb, swollen from his kiss. Heart thudding heavily against my chest, I step back, my face a mask of cool indifference. I ignore the heat curling in my belly. The crowd’s still cheering, clueless as to thestorm brewing within me. I turn away from his triumphant gaze, my hands trembling.
God.I hate it. I hate how that kiss sank its claws into me. I hate how I can't shake it—him. I hatehim.
I move as though I'm in a daze through the remainder of the ceremony. We transport ourselves to Enzo's manor where the reception is waiting.
The reception’s a blur, but I manage to immerse myself in the sounds of clinking glasses, the boisterous noises. I cloak myself in the fake smiles and the words of congratulations.
Luckily, both groups are on their best behavior, and no fight whatsoever breaks out, although they regard each other warily. Years of rivalry and steaming bad blood coming to an end on a cursed union. It's maddening. I want to shout it to everyone's hearing that it's nothing but a sham, but I keep it cool and persevere.
I manage to get through the entire thing until it's time for the toasts. Toast to long-lasting peace and harmony. That's when I tune out. Aida comes to find me, still crying. She glues herself to me and I shove her away, annoyed.
I slip away, needing desperately to breathe. The manor’s garden is quiet as I take in the cool and crisp air. I lean against a stone wall, closing my eyes, but the kiss, his presence is imprinted on my mind. He's there, everywhere I turn.
The fact that he's proving unshakable angers me. I’m Serafina Rossi. I'm not some fool swayed by a man, much less a man who’s supposed to be my enemy. But today, at that altar, I'd swayed. It's a hard thing to admit.
An even harder thing to admit is that it’s got me rattled.
7
Enzo
The mansion is quiet tonight, the kind of quiet that feels like a held breath. The reason isn't far-fetched. Serafina’s here in my domain. A Rossi breathing the same air as me. I never thought I'd see the day. Her presence here is like a spark in a powder keg.
The reception had lasted the whole of last night through this afternoon. It was a celebration meant to make a statement, and it had. The unity has been sealed.
Towards evening, my bride and I were seen off by everyone present. And here we are, in my manor. If this was a real thing, we'd be on our way to our honeymoon destination. But as it, there's no honeymoon for us, thank fuck for that. I can’t imaginelosing myself in some tropical haze with her, letting my guard down. That’s not who I am.
We got back from the reception hours ago, her in that ivory dress that has me imagining the different ways I want to get it off her. Me in my tux, both of us playing the part for the crowd.
She'd been herded off to her room the moment we arrived. We won't be sharing the same room. We're not husband and wife in the real and traditional sense of it. I’d fought the primal urge to scoop her up, carry her over the threshold, and fuck her until she’s screaming my name.