Page 111 of Dark Desires

A hush falls over the room as a procession of bridesmaids appears, followed by Isabella. She’s framed by the glow of the afternoon light, her belly round with our child.

Mario escorts Isabella down the aisle. His chest puffed out like he’s guarding royalty.

And he is. He’s guarding my queen, my future.

When they reach me, Mario nods and releases her hand.

I clasp her fingers, feeling the warmth, the life, the love that radiates from her. She smirks up at me, that mischievous tilt to her lips that’s always driven me wild.

The priest’s words wash over me, but all I hear is the steady beat of my heart and the whisper of her breath.

When it’s time, I say, “I do.”

Her “I do” is soft, but strong, her eyes never leaving mine.

When I kiss her, it’s gentle at first. Then she deepens it, her hands in my hair, reminding me that this is real, that we’re in this together. Forever.

Cheers rise from the assembled guests, the room filled with love.

An hour later, we’re at the reception. There’s dancing and music and celebration, everyone there putting aside the war that almost took place and focusing on the joining of not just two people, but two families.

I stay by her side, watching her charm everyone, from seasoned mobsters to young lieutenants. She’s a natural. The perfect blend of strength, grace, and wit. And I can see the respect in their eyes. The Mancini Family is in good hands.

I lean close to her ear. “You were made for this.”

She rolls her eyes, but she smiles. “Don’t remind me. I still plan to hand this off one day.”

“Not too soon, I hope.” I wink. “You’re damn good at it.”

Her laughter rings out, and I soak it in.

The music softens as the double doors open, and a hush falls over the room. An older man in a sharp suit steps inside, flanked by two bodyguards. The small group approaches me and Isabella.

For a moment, I worry that this is a hit.

Mario and some of the other guards quickly move into action, forming a wall between us and the new arrivals. Tension hangs in the air.

“Señor and Señora Plushenko,” the man says, his tone respectful. “My name is Jose Vaquez. I’m a representative of the former De la Rosa cartel.”

“Is that right?” I ask. “And is there a reason you’re barging into my wedding reception?”

“Not the best time or place,” Isa adds. There’s a sharpness to her voice.

“I want to apologize for my interruption. This is a happy day, and I have no intention of changing that. In fact, I may have more reason for celebration.”

“The point,” I say. “Get to it.”

He nods. “I’m here with a message from the acting leadership of the cartel. With Christian out of the picture?—"

Isa narrows her eyes. “Don’t even say his name in front of us.”

“I understand your anger,” he replies. “May that be the last time you hear his name. Anyway, I bring an offering of peace.”

Isabella’s fingers tighten around mine. I glance at her, and we share a look.

“We’re listening,” Isabella says.

I gesture to a nearby table after giving a wave to the guests to let them know that there’s nothing to be worried about. My brothers and Elena join us.