Page 19 of My Solemn Vow (The Mafia Arrangement #1)

Toni? I hate this asshole. I hate him more than I hate having to adjust how I’ll kill him and his filthy son.

This truce won’t change the fact that, if they’re guilty, I’ll find a way to kill the two of them.

It just means I’ll no longer be putting their heads on a spike in their own front lawns after I do it.

Ignoring his taunts, I extend my hand to Antonella, not as if to shake, but flat for her to rest her hand within mine.

Gregorio wants to make a show of being a dick to her, then I’ll make a show of possessing her like she’s a prize. This may be a truce, but nothing says she can’t be the spoils of war. I’ll just have to tread carefully to ensure she’s not a Trojan horse.

My heart flutters, and we lock eyes again.

She doesn’t wear a long veil. Rather it’s one of those small hats with tulle or something that’s customary for mourners.

A suit is a suit, but some women dream of the day they get married.

The dress and dancing, food, cake. But there’ll be none of that because our wedding will be celebrated graveside. There’s a curiosity to it.

Did Antonella mourn having to wear black on her wedding day? Better yet, why do I care?

Antonella puts her hand in mine. It’s cold, and I resist the urge to shrug out of my jacket to offer her warmth.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

With her proximity, I inhale a bright citrus scent layered with something lightly sweet and floral.

I clear my throat and lead her two steps closer to Father Michael.

He nods and leads us up the stairs into the main portion of the church, down the central aisle, and to the altar, where he stops before God.

“Formalities’ sake.” Father Michael looks between me and my new bride but focuses on her. “You are here of your own free will?”

“Yes.” She gives one single nod.

Her voice is strong in volume but hollow in quality, like a well-loved tavern after the bar closes.

Antonella’s eyes are constantly moving, assessing her uncles and the Cavanaghs around her. If I couldn’t hear her deliberately slow, steady breaths, I’d think she was poised, but they’re there, their shallowness helping her steel herself.

My wolf catches the scent of fear and looks for the cause. But I’m not concerned. I’d worry if she was oblivious to the threats in the room.

Father Michael sweeps his gaze to me, and I debate the truth, but there’s no way I’m letting the D’Medicis see that I wasn’t involved in this.

“Yes.”

Back on Antonella, Father Michael asks, “Do you, Antonella D’Medici, take Valor Cavanagh to be your husband? ”

I don’t take my eyes off her, holding eye contact. Neither of us wants to be here, but it’s born of necessity. Our fates are intertwined now. Would either of us be willing to risk the truce for the sake of bloodshed?

Antonella doesn’t answer right away. It’s as if she’s giving me a calculated once-over. There isn’t fear or sadness in her eyes. She’s almost too calm to be marrying the heir to a bloody empire. Whatever she sees in me, it’s enough.

She turns to Father Michael with a determinate nod. “I do.”

The movement exposes the column of her neck, and it drags my wolf forward. Just one bite.

No. I push him down.

It’s my turn, and Father Michael formally asks me, “Do you, Valor Cavanagh, take Antonella D’Medici to be your wife?”

I clench and unclench my fist before I answer. “I do take Antonella D’Medici to be my wife.”

“You may exchange rings.” The priest smiles, gesturing between us.

Apparently, every detail has been thought through because my father offers an open box to me, and Gregorio D’Medici offers one out to Antonella.

I take a beat to look at the ring. It has a classic look with a single stone set in a flat gold band.

The diamond is nice, but it’s not nearly nice enough for what I would have picked, even for an arranged bride. It screams Dad’s taste.

Not bright enough. My wolf laments.

Slipping a ring on Antonella’s finger tarnishes the memory of the same experience with Holly, the mother of my child and the woman my heart holds steadfastly to.

This ring, a symbol of an unbreakable truce, marks the second time in my life I’ll make a promise until death.

With Holly, I believed it would be when we were old and gray.

Now I know better. How long will it be before death catches one of us this time?

Untraditionally, we step closer to the altar and a pen is passed between us. Five people sign legal documents binding us as one before God and for the government.

No one suggests I kiss my new bride. Which is for the best because tonight, after the bodies are buried and the families are consoled, I’ll have to fuck her and provide the sheets as proof of our union. Consummation, the final ‘step’ in a marriage.

Tender kisses aren’t what our world is built on. Our marriage won’t be built on them either.

Unfortunately for Antonella, the truce and its less-than-savory stipulations won’t be the only change in her life. She unknowingly just married a wolf shifter. If death, by some miracle, evades us, our laws demand that I turn Antonella within the next year.

The requirements of the truce are nothing compared to the bloody ordeal of being gifted a wolf and surviving. It’s not for the faint of heart.

After signing the documents, Antonella links her fingers with mine to walk back down the aisle.

Maybe she’ll have what it takes to be the alpha’s wife. But then again, what choice does she have?