Page 12 of Bellini Bound

Months ago, after a fire at Matteo’s house, when Summer had been rushed to the hospital unconscious, suffering burns on her legs, a nurse approached us in the waiting room. She offered my cousin a pair of scrubs to wear since I’d dragged his ass out of his bedroom in nothing but his underwear. I’d been bare-chested, having literally given the man the shirt off my back, and the nurse and I shared a moment.

She drank in my skin, covered in tattoos, and I made sure to give her some of the signature Enzo Bellini charm. Her shy blush when I introduced myself was still burned into my brain. As was the stern warning from Matteo to forget about her.

That raised alarm bells, and I glared at the man standing by my side. “You knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

A smirk touched his lips. “Look on the bright side. At least you know there’s a spark.”

My jaw clenched. “Fuck your spark.” The priest cleared his throat, and I muttered a “sorry” before continuing to address my cousin. “This makes it so much worse.”

“Why? Because you liked her?” he challenged.

No, because of what the capos are currently setting up in my basement as a “wedding gift.” It was bad enough forcing that on a random woman, but one who’s sworn an oath to do no harm? She’s going to hate me.

Maybe that’s for the best. If she hates you, then you won’t be tempted to make the best of a bad situation and try to become her friend.

New plan: make Allison Logan hate me.

That was the only way I would survive this marriage, where I was actually attracted to my captive bride.

Allison looked like a deer caught in headlights as she reached where I stood, shifting on her feet when she came to a stop at the bottom of the steps to the altar.

The priest spoke. “Who gives this woman away to this man in holy matrimony?”

There was a beat of silence, and I glared at the coward sitting in the front pew who didn’t even have the decency to walk his daughter down the aisle after willingly handing her over in exchange for saving his own life.

With a lift of her chin, Allison replied, “I do.”

My eyes widened a fraction when I caught the fire in hers. She was just as pissed about this arrangement as I was, though where my anger was targeted toward Matteo, hers was directed at her father.

While I might hate that she’d actually shown up today, I could respect that it spoke to her loyalty to her family. Even if it wasn’t reciprocated.

After a discreet shove from Matteo, I stepped down to offer Allison my hand. There was a rush of heat when our palms met, but I ignored it.

Note to self: refrain from touching her at all costs after this.

Facing the priest, I commanded, “Let’s get this over with.”

As promised, we got the short and sweet version of the ceremony. Standard vows were recited before we moved to the exchange of rings.

Mine felt like a noose tightening around my neck as it was slid down the fourth finger of my left hand, and hers . . .

Hers didn’t fucking fit. Which gave me the perfect opportunity to be an asshole and keep her at a distance.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered. “Maybe—”

“Maybe you should lose weight,” I snapped.

Her sharp gasp rang out as she stared up at me with a stricken expression, her green eyes growing glassy.

From behind me, Matteo let out a low sound of disapproval.

He could go fuck himself for all I cared after forcing me into this marriage.

Pocketing her wedding band, I nodded at the priest to proceed.

When it came time for the kiss, I lifted her hand to drop one there. That was the first and last act of affection Mrs. Enzo Bellini would ever get from me.

The organ came to life again, and I practically dragged her up the aisle.