Page 140 of Ruin

63

Tommy

The music is too soft. The notes drift like smoke from the string quartet at the front of the church, curling into the vaulted ceiling, muffled and uneven, getting under my skin.

Every muscle in my body is wired so tight I can hear my pulse in my teeth, and my foot won’t stop tapping against the stone floor, counting the beats—four-four time, ten bars, twenty bars—then starting again.

It’s irritating, but the repetition is a distraction that keeps me from standing up and tearing this fucking place apart.

I sit in the back, the wooden chair cutting into my spine, scanning faces like a soldier clocking enemies. Black suit, nervous hands, maybe a weapon under the jacket. The older one two rows ahead? No ring, eyes flicking too often to the side door. He’s trained, probably Aurelio’s man. I catalogue every detail, every gesture, a list of threats arranging and rearranging themselves in my brain in order of priority.

The seconds are ticking by, and only one thing matters: getting Giovanna back by my side.

It’s ten minutes past the time the ceremony was supposed to start. I left her 28 minutes ago. My phone is a weight in my hand, blank, nothing from her. How long does it take to have a fucking conversation and say it’s over? Antonio should be far fucking away from her right now, not stealing more of her time and attention from me.

The quartet starts another piece, syrupy and delicate, and bile burns my throat. I can’t fucking stand this waiting.

A shadow moves behind me, and I turn to see Vin slide into the chair behind mine. He leans forward, his gaze down, his voice low. “What the fuck are we doing here? Where is she?”

My jaw ticks. “She’s telling Antonio. She’ll text me when she’s done.”

Vin’s snort is low and vicious. “Bullshit. She’s dipping out with him. You know she is.”

“Shut the fuck up. She’s leaving him,” I bite out.

Vin studies me, his silence heavy. Then he says, “She’s a flight risk, bro, and you know it or you wouldn’t have that look on your face. You need to get out of here.”

I whip my head around, meeting his eyes, and try to keep my voice down. “There’s no way she’s marrying Antonio with my cum still dripping out of her, her dress ripped, mascara and lipstick all over her face. No fucking way.”

Vin ducks his head, laughter bubbling out of him in spite of himself, and I face forward again.

“Jesus Christ. You’re raw, little brother. I fucking love it.” He sobers quickly, tapping my shoulder. “You can tell that this place is about to light up, right? I can feel it. We need to move.”

“No.” My voice is iron. “I need you on standby for whenI commandeer this wedding and marry her. I’m officially making her mine, and you’re going to stand up there with me as my best man.”

Vin stares at me like I’ve gone completely off the rails. He speaks slowly, deliberately, like I’m a child, and I stare back at him.

“We are surrounded by Aurelio’s men. Guns in every row. If you try this, it’ll be a fucking bloodbath.”

“I don’t care.” My voice cracks, feverish. “If I have to marry her in a sea of blood, surrounded by bodies, I’ll do it. She’s my wife. Today.”

Vin scrubs a hand down his face. “Fuck.” He shakes his head, then mutters, “I can’t leave you here alone. I’ll post up my men. Bring in the outside units.”

My chest heaves, and I nod sharply. Relief and panic coil in equal measure. Then the music changes to a different song, and grows louder.

My heart stops when I see Antonio slowly step up to the altar. His gaze cuts through the crowd like a blade until it lands on me. He glares, his eyes molten, daring me to make a move. My skin prickles, the ringing in my ears starting low and growing stronger, as I glance down at my phone and see nothing from her.

When I look back up, he’s still mad dogging me, and I’m about to shove through all these bitches and tackle his ass to the floor when the doors behind me creak open and every stands up and turns to face them.

My stomach plummets. I keep my head down, hands laced over the back of my neck. I can’t watch her marry him. I can’t fucking do it.

But it isn’t Giovanna who walks in. It’s Lorenzo, and he’snot walking, he’s running, wild-eyed and screaming.

“She’s gone! Someone took my daughter! Giovanna’s gone!”

His words rip me to my feet, and I shove my way into the aisle, blocking his path. When he sees me, his eyes bug out with rage, and he hauls back his fist and slams it into my jaw before I can brace myself. I don’t stop him. If she’s gone, I deserve it. I deserve worse.

“What did you do to my daughter?” he roars, spittle flecking his lips. “Where did you take her?”