Page 6 of Forgive Me, Father (Don #1)

SIX

THE WHITE RABBIT

She had signed the contract after I’d told her that I’d make the amendments. Her mother had trained her well. She was already putting her trust in me, and yet she didn’t know me one bit. I signed too, with a note to amend the assets and include the merger.

“I’ll have an invitation drawn up for your family. Someone has to attend the consummation ceremony.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she nodded.

I loved the way she still blushed, how that quiet shyness only made her more captivating. She was stunning.

Phillip DeCosta was a fucking idiot to ever let her slip through his fingers.

“I’ll send the amended contract to you soon and then we’ll get married.”

She knew Christmas Eve was the only day we could get married.

“Don’t bother to get undressed. It won’t take long to add the amended part.”

She nodded once again.

“Nico!” I yelled, and the door opened. I told him to take Camilla and get someone to refresh her makeup and hair. The wedding would take place soon.

Nico nodded once and instructed Camilla to follow him.

A part of me couldn’t wait for the consummation ceremony, and I considered amending her responsibilities too. I did have my needs.

Imagining that I could mold her into whatever sex slave I needed would be a true fantasy. But I knew it was inevitable. Still, Camilla and I might have something real. Something I never could see with Simi.

I called Mica and instructed him to make the necessary amendments. We’d already discussed the merger, and I knew her father would have no problem aligning with us. I was exactly what he was working toward.

After I got off the call with Mica, I phoned Evangeline, my secretary. Told her to get the invitations ready for my consummation ceremony.

There was a brief period of silence when I told her it was to a Camilla Santore and not Simi Deluca.

“Do we have a problem?”

“No, sir. How do you spell her name?”

I gave her the spelling of all her names—Camilla Elisabeth Katarina Santore, as it was on the contract.

“Who do I send the invitations to?”

“Oh, everyone who is important and needs to be at the ritual, and one to Noah Santore.” I cut the call as Nico entered.

“It’s moving fast.” He brushed his hand through his hair.

“Usually when something is meant to be, that is the only pace, Nico.”

He nodded.

“Thank you. She’s perfect, like you said,” I added.

“I didn’t do much; fate brought her to me. And I knew she was yours.”

I smiled. “Reason I trust you the way I do.”

He smiled and bowed, then asked if I needed anything else.

“Just the priest.”

“He’s on his way. You need a suit.”

“I have plenty in my closet. I’ll find something to match her.”

He laughed as he walked out and closed the door.

My family was not going to like this, but then again, I didn’t give a flying fuck anymore.

* * *

Two hours later, I stood in the foyer with the priest awaiting my bride.

The door creaked open, and she walked in, the vision of her wedding dress stealing the very air from my lungs. Her makeup, freshly redone, enhanced her beauty, and if I had been breathless before, now I felt like my very soul was being pulled from me.

She was perfection, an embodiment of everything I’d ever wanted, and feared.

Her eyes met mine for a fleeting moment, and I saw the hesitation there, the fight to keep her composure.

She swallowed hard, as if trying to choke down the fear threatening to surface.

If she could have turned and fled, I was certain she would’ve done it without a second thought.

But instead, she kept moving, step by slow step, her determination almost palpable.

She came to a standstill beside me, and for a moment, the weight of the room hung heavy between us.

The priest’s voice broke the silence, beginning the ceremony. It was sweet and short.

“Today, you have come together to give each other your hearts, your trust, and your futures. You see each other fully and choose each other fully.’

“May you always find comfort in each other’s arms, strength in each other’s spirit, and peace in each other’s love. And when storms come may your love be the anchor that holds you steady and the fire that brings you home.

“Now, please repeat after me.”

“Alfonso Matteo Henrico Pontisello,” the priest said, and Camilla gasped.

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of my lips, barely contained. There was power in our name. The Pontisello name.

The priest’s voice cut through the tension, steady and formal. “Will you take Camilla Elisabeth Katarina Santore as your legal wife? To love and to hold, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

“I do.”

He asked Camilla the same, and she hesitated for a moment. Silence lingered. I looked at her. She appeared frozen.

“Camilla,” I whispered. She shook herself out of it.

“Of course, I do.”

My lips curved upward once more, and the priest stated that I could kiss my bride.

I turned toward her, and her gaze slowly lifted to meet mine. I had to lean down, her height barely reaching my chest. Camilla was easily more than a foot shorter than me.

Warm breath brushed across my lips as mine hovered just above hers, the proximity making the air between us feel charged with something neither of us could ignore.

I loved the tease, it was my ultimate game, and then, when I couldn’t hold my hunger anymore, my lips crushed onto hers.

My tongue delved into her mouth, stroked her tongue, and in a few strokes hers came alive.

She cupped my neck and mimicked my tongue’s rhythm. She pushed herself closer to me as if her body ached for the connection. Something told me she needed a fuck more than I did.

My mind grew hazy, and the priest cleared his throat. He brought me back out of my thoughts, and the kiss broke apart.

Her breath came in quick, uneven gasps, and her eyes, wide and uncertain, were locked on mine, filled with a wild, untamed energy.

She let go of my neck, and there was a slight strain in my back muscle.

What the fuck was that?

I gave a curt smile to the priest and thanked him for his time.

We signed our marriage certificate as Nico showed the priest out of the room.

“Why didn’t you tell me you are a Pontisello?”

“Would it have made a difference?”

She thought about it before shaking her head.

“Good. There won’t be a consummation ceremony tonight. The earliest I could arrange for one is tomorrow night.”

She swallowed hard as her cheeks flushed once more. But she did not say a word.

“Is there a specific person you would like there?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered.

“I’ll have some clothes brought up to you and have Cartier bring a selection of wedding bands to choose from.” We hadn’t done this with rings. It was a bland ceremony.

Probably the opposite of what she’d wanted. Having her wedding at Hotel de Anna’s told me that much.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t the wedding of your dreams,” I added now that the thought had taken form.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” She looked sad and distant. Betrayal washed over her features. I touched her chin and forced her gently to look at me.

Her eyes glistened.

“If you give me a chance, look beyond my markings, I’ll make you forget his name in due time.”

Her tears vanished immediately as the red shine on her cheeks reappeared.

Her gaze broke with mine, and she swallowed hard.

“But for now, I have plenty of phone calls to make. Order whatever you like from the kitchen and have Nico call me when Cartier arrives.”

She nodded, and I left, walking back to my office. I couldn’t wait for tomorrow night to find out just how sweet she was going to taste.