Page 62 of Angel of Light (Lords of The Commission: New York #5)

MAX

The jet touched down in New York after what seemed like a damn eternity.

Every mile I’d traveled from Brazil had been torture, knowing I was flying back to watch the woman I love marry my brother, while I stood at that same altar as his best man.

Three days of chasing a feeble thread of hope. Three days wasted for absolutely fucking nothing.

My apartment felt cold and hollow as I stepped inside, water still dripping from my jacket onto the hardwood floor. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of my own breathing and the distant rumble of thunder outside.

This whole place was a mirrored reflection of my soul. Empty, dull, and barren. She was the only light in my bottomless darkness.

My mind was already set on seeing her tonight. After all, this was my last chance to kiss her lips like she belonged to me. But as soon as I saw the damn wedding invitation soiling my pillow, that idea was now a conviction.

There was no rhythm to the beating of my heart as I picked the damn thing up.

The Battaglia and the Massimo families cordially invite you to witness the union of

Alison Battaglia

&

Vincenzo Gabriel Massimo.

Red ink slashed across Vincenzo’s name in angry, violent strokes, and in its place, written in Alison’s unmistakable handwriting, was a single word: Gabriel.

The smile that spread my lips and warmed my heart was all the fuel I needed to get back under the rain and into the storm, marching to my car and frantically driving to her apartment.

There was an ominous look to that red ink, like blood against the pristine paper. Like a wound that would never heal. Alison was trying to change our fate with nothing but a pen and her desperate hope.

She’d used that damn name of mine like it was the most truthful part of me. The innocence of a boy who didn’t survive his upbringing. The name that meant messenger of God, protector, strength. Everything I’d failed to be for her.

The invitation was clutched in my fist as I drove above the limit, cutting through the streets of New York like my life depended on it. As if getting there faster would make this become true.

Illusions of a man who desperately didn’t want to allow forever to belong to another man.

The rain was coming down in sheets, each drop feeling like a tear from heaven. It was like the sky was mourning with us, weeping for what we were about to lose. By tomorrow, she’d be Mrs. Vincenzo Massimo, and I’d be nothing but a ghost, haunting the edges of her new life.

Lurking in the shadows of her manor. Living a life of a predator who would never catch his prey again.

Finally, her apartment building came into view.

I jammed the car in a space where it didn’t fit, the front invading the sidewalk while the back blocked half the street.

Manuel, her usual night super, knew me fairly well by now, allowing me in without a question.

I took the stairs three at a time, not trusting the elevator to get me to her fast enough.

My clothes were soaked through, my hair plastered to my forehead, but I didn’t give a fuck about anything except getting to her.

I’d wasted too much time. Time I didn’t have.

Jimmy sat outside her door, his head leaning against the wall. He gave a small nod, probably knowing that this was my last goodbye. The last night I had to brand her into my soul for eternity.

I was sure he had questions, but he knew better than to take up more of my fleeting time.

“Addy isn’t here. I’ll be leaving, too, as soon as you shut that door behind you.”

“Thank you,” I muttered, placing the key in the lock and pushing the door to Alison’s apartment open.

The apartment was quiet, dimly lit by the glow of the city lights filtering through her windows. I made my way down the hallway, my wet shoes leaving puddles on her expensive hardwood.

If my mind went through all and every scenario of this moment, it definitely hadn’t prepared me for the sight before me now.

Alison’s wedding dress hung on her closet door like a beautiful, torturous symbol of my miserable fate.

The sight of it nearly brought me to my knees.

White silk and delicate lace, designed to make her look like the angel she was. It was perfection, just like she was.

Tomorrow, she’d put it on to marry another man. To promise herself to someone who would never love her. Who would never deserve her. I didn’t deserve her, either, but I’d make up for it with every breath I had.

I stood there, dripping and broken, staring at the dress that would take her away from me forever.

“Max?”

Her voice was soft, heavy with sleep, but I heard the sharp intake of breath when she saw me standing there. I turned to find her sitting up in bed, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, those emerald eyes wide with shock and something that looked dangerously close to relief.

“You came back. You’re safe.”

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t form words past the lump in my throat. All I could do was stand there, staring at the woman who owned every piece of my black soul.

She was out of bed and in my arms before I could blink, her lips crashing onto mine with a desperation that matched my own. I kissed her back like I was drowning and she was air. Like this was the last time I’d ever get to taste her sweetness.

“I’m sorry,” I breathed against her lips, my words finally finding their way out. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You’re here now,” she said, her fingers threading through my wet hair. “You’re here, and you’re safe, and that’s all that matters.”

I pulled back to look at her, memorizing every detail of her face. The way her eyes sparkled, even when they were filled with tears. The soft curve of her lips. How she bit her bottom lip when she was nervous or trying not to cry.

“You’ll be his wife tomorrow. I’m so sorry I couldn’t find a way to spare you.”

“I know.” The words came out barely in a whisper.

“I can’t stop it. I tried, Baby. I tried everything, but I can’t fucking stop it.”

She reached up and cupped my face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away tears I didn’t feel falling.

“We might not have tomorrow, but we have tonight. Be with me. Right now. Before I have to put on that dress and walk down that aisle and pretend my heart isn’t breaking.”

I looked at the dress again, hanging there like the beautiful death sentence it was.

“Put it on,” I said suddenly.

“What?”

“Put the dress on for me.” My voice was rough, desperate. “Walk down the hall to me like it’s the aisle in that goddamn church. Let me see you the way I’ll never get to see you tomorrow.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears, but she nodded anyway. “Okay.”

I waited in the living room, my heart hammering against my ribs as I listened to the rustle of fabric from her bedroom. When she appeared in the doorway, I instantly forgot how to breathe.

She was ethereal.

A vision in white silk and lace, her hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders. The dress fit her perfectly, hugging her curves before flowing out into a train that murmured against the floor as she moved.

She was breathtaking.

My Angel of Light.

She started walking toward me, slow and deliberate, her eyes never leaving mine. Each step was a countdown to the end of everything we could have been. When she reached me, I took her hands in mine, bringing them to my lips.

“You’re beautiful,” I managed to say, my voice barely audible, whispered against her knuckles. “In another life, this is going to be real. In another life, you’ll be walking to me, not away from me.”

“This is real,” she said fiercely. “This moment, right now, this is the realest thing I’ve ever felt.”

I couldn’t hold back anymore. I kissed her with everything I had, pouring three years of love, longing, and regret into that single kiss. Alison responded just as desperately, her fingers fisting in my wet shirt, pulling me closer.

I lifted her into my arms, carrying her back to the bedroom, the wedding dress trailing behind us like a river of silked doom. I set her down gently beside the bed, my hands trembling as I reached for the zipper at the back of her dress.

“Max,” she breathed, and my name on her lips sounded like a prayer and a curse all at once.

“I need to have you like this,” I said, my lips against the curve of her neck, breathing in her scent because it was the last time I’d ever get to. “I need to make love to you in the dress you’ll wear to marry him. I need to claim you one last time before I lose you forever.”

The zipper slid down with ease, and I pushed the dress off her shoulders, letting it pool around her feet. She stood before me in nothing but white lace lingerie that made her look like an angel sent to destroy me. I’d never seen anything more perfectly devastating in my entire life.

I traced the delicate fabric on her collarbone, following it down to the swell of her breasts. Every touch was reverent. Me, worshiping my goddess at her altar.

Only Alison could make me turn to religion as my last resort.

This was my communion, my last rites, my final confession, all wrapped into one moment of love and lust.

“You’re shaking,” she whispered, covering my hands with hers.

“Because I’m about to lose everything that ever mattered,” I said, my voice breaking. “Because tomorrow, these hands will wear a ring that isn’t mine.”

“No,” she said fiercely, pulling my hands to her chest, pressing them against her racing heart. “This will always be yours. Every beat, every breath, every part of me. He may have me trapped, but you will always have my soul.”

I shed my wet clothes with desperate urgency, my hands trembling with need and heartbreak. When I pulled her against me, skin to skin, I thought the sensation was going to kill me. She was warm, smooth, and soft. Everything good in this world that I didn’t deserve, but somehow got to hold.

“I love you,” I said against her lips, the words torn from somewhere deep in my chest.

“I love you,” She whispered back, her fingers threading through my hair again. “I’ll love you until I die.”