Page 17 of Enzo (Legacy of Heathens #3)

ENZO

H er deep blue eyes met mine, her smile cold and her glare even more so.

She was fucking breathtaking and wore defiance like that crimson dress.

Like she was born to wear it. The lace in front barely reached her mid-thighs while the back featured a two-foot train, which she dragged begrudgingly across the church floor.

The tastefully risqué dress was unorthodox, but it didn’t piss me off in the least. Rather, it made me want to bend her over this altar and take her in front of God and all the saints.

How in the fuck was I supposed to make it through this ceremony and reception when she was wearing that ?

She might have been over a decade younger than me, but she kept her head high, appearing confident and strong. Wiser than her years might suggest. Her clammy, trembling hands were the only thing betraying her.

You’re not getting a virgin bride. I’ve given that to a better man.

Her words rang in my mind as the priest blabbed on, and the corner of my lips lifted. Penelope thought she was smug, but she was playing a losing game. I would own all her firsts and lasts, no matter how hard she resisted me.

“Did you prepare your vows?” the priest asked, his eyes darting between the two of us.

“Yes.”

“No,” my bride answered at the same time. She flashed me a sickly sweet smile and continued. “We’ll do our vows away from prying eyes and curious ears. Enzo stutters when he’s nervous.”

That little minx.

“My bride is shy,” I hissed. “But don’t you worry, Father, she’ll be screaming her vows tonight.”

The priest’s eyes widened and his mouth moved like that of a fish out of water. It took him several tries to finally get himself together and continue the ceremony, finally asking the most important question.

“Do you, Enzo Marchetti, take Penelope DiMauro to be your wedded wife? To love and to cherish until death do you part?”

I answered without hesitation. “I do.”

“Do you, Penelope DiMauro, take Enzo Marchetti to be your wedded husband? To love and to cherish until death do you part?”

Silence stretched while everyone held their breath like a bomb was ticking down until someone cleared their throat and her ocean-blue eyes lifted to mine.

“Till death do us part, I do.”

It was a strange response, but I didn’t ponder on it, because “You may kiss the bride” was swiftly uttered by the priest.

Penelope stiffened, her eyes going wide as the weight of every gaze in the room pressed down on us. But the crowd didn’t matter, only she did. I cradled the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair, and leaned in, capturing her soft lips with mine.

She gasped, and I drank in the sound, sealing our promise with something deeper than words.

Above us, the wedding bell tolled, announcing not only our marriage but our official beginning.

Her sweet scent was intoxicating and desire kindled inside me. And then pain pierced through my bottom lip and I pulled back in shock.

She bit me!

“I don’t feel much like kissing,” she hissed, holding my gaze. Her eyes shone with rebellion and defiance while a blush blotched her creamy neck and crept up her cheeks.

“I fucking love when you show your claws,” I said, watching her expression turn into one of shock. Then I straightened before I led her down the aisle and out of the church.

Her papà was the first to show up to “congratulate” us.

“Better treat my princess well,” was his warning, his gaze darting to where his princess had bitten me. “Or you’ll have me to deal with.”

“Don’t worry about your princess, Luca,” I retorted dryly. “She’s my queen now.”

My father-in-law took a menacing step forward, but before he could act, his wife was by his side.

“The ceremony was beautiful,” she said with a strained smile, pulling her daughter into an embrace. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”

My wife’s smile was stiff, but then her papà stepped up to her again and hugged her. A part of me was jealous that Penelope sank into him with trust. Would she ever let me in enough to feel that sense of ease?

“We’ll wait for you at the house for the reception,” her mama offered, her eyes darting to me with a look that was a little too close to pity.

Penelope kissed her father’s cheek, and he reluctantly took a step back, gesturing with his fingers to show he was watching me.

I bit back the urge to roll my eyes and gave a tight-lipped smile instead. “Watch all you want, but she’s mine now.”

Her siblings were next, and they greeted her one by one as their mother dragged Luca away.

It would be a miracle if nobody died at this reception.