Page 130 of Brutal Devil

“Iamlucky that I’m your brother,” Saint says, getting all serious on me as he claps me on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you,frattore mio. You deserve to be happy. You both do.”

“I hate to interrupt this moment because you two look like you’re about to start braiding hair and painting toenails,” Scorpion interjects, plucking at his white linen shirt. “But if this show doesn’t get on the road soon, I’m going to have to take this fucking thing off. I’m sweating to death.”

“Yeah, what the hell is this thing made of anyway?” Lucky wants to know.

“Linen.” I give my brothers a look. “Luna chose them.”

They both know better than to say a fucking thing about the shirts after that.

The wedding planner heads our way then. She’s wearing sandals and a tropical-looking dress, and she radiates grandma-who-bakes-you-cookies-for-breakfast vibes.

She gives us a beaming, toothy smile. “It’s time to get into position, gentlemen. The guests are all seated, and the ceremony is about to start.”

We dutifully follow her to the archway on the beach. It’s been lined with Luna’s favorite flowers—white roses and hydrangeas. I take up my position at the makeshift altar, Saint next to me, and face our guests. I catchZiaMaria sniffling into a tissue and have to blink really hard against a rush of emotion.

“You crying?” Saint asks, keeping his voice low.

“Sand in my eyes,” I lie.

A sudden wave of nerves hits me. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, the moment that doesn’t erase the past and its ugliness, but the moment that atones for it. Luna and I may already be technically married, but this is the wedding day we’ll look back on and celebrate.

“How do I look?” I mutter to my brother.

“You don’t look bad,” Saint tells me. “For an ugly fucker.”

I shake my head. “Asshole.”

We don’t have any more time to exchange insults, because the violinist begins playing and Luna’s bridesmaids start down the aisle, one by one. I barely even notice any of them. It’s my wife I’m waiting to see.

But when the maid of honor, Luna’s best friend Isla, starts walking toward us in a flowing light-blue dress, I hear Saint curse at my side.

I glance at him, curious.

His eyes are glued to her, an intensity in his expression that I’ve never seen on him before.

“Who the fuck is that?” he growls in a hushed voice.

“That’s Luna’s best friend,” I murmur. “Isla.”

“Fuck.”

As he curses, Isla’s attention slips to Saint. Her eyes go wide, and she stumbles in the sand. For a second, I’m afraid she’s going to pitch face first onto the beach. I take a step forward, intending to catch her. But Isla rights herself, pink tingeing her high cheekbones. Clutching her bouquet like it’s a weapon, she goes to her place at the altar, pointedly averting her gaze from my brother.

Saint is also glancing in the opposite direction, his reaction to seeing Luna’s friend equally as odd. Since we arrived on the island, Luna’s been entertaining the bridal party, while I’ve been taking care of the groomsmen. It’s been nice to unwind and catch up in this gorgeous, sun-drenched location. Isla arrived a bit later than the others because of a work commitment. As far as I was aware, Saint and the rest of my brothers hadn’t met her yet, which I intended to rectify during the reception.

But from the looks of things, my brother and Isla are already acquainted.

And neither of them looks too happy about it.

Interesting.

Before I can think too much more about this development, the violinist begins to play “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” and Luna is walking down the aisle to me. She’s fucking beautiful, her long hair down in loose, beachy waves, her white silk gown molded to her sexy body in a way that makes me want to scoop her up in my arms and carry her off so no one else can see her in it.

She has one white rose in her hair and the diamond necklace I gave her for her birthday around her throat, the matching earrings sparkling from her ears. She’s carrying a bouquet of white hydrangeas, and as she catches my eye, she smiles.

This woman.

She’s changed me.