Page 24 of Scream (Duchess & Devils #1)

It takes Niko and I six full minutes to walk from the base of the stairs, outside, past the seated guests, and to my place at the altar, also impeccably decorated with an archway.

The priest waits patiently and then Raven comes by, taking her seat by the pianist. She looks like a little grim reaper cosplaying as a Barbie today, and when she inclines her head at me in a nod, I look at all the faces staring back at me.

I smile at Tildy and Derek, then find my father in the front seat on my side beside the rest of the heads and their wives.

There's an empty seat beside him, with a picture frame holding my mother's photo.

My father crosses himself, kisses his fingers, and gently places them on her photograph.

It all points to Sabrina.

Of course she would do something small and thoughtful like that.

I swallow down my emotions before I can even start to wonder if my mother would have loved my wife-to-be… I don’t have to wonder. I feel like I already know the answer.

I feel Niko get a little closer. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I mutter.

Raven begins to play something slow and mournful on her cello, the pianist with her as our flower girls - Franny's granddaughters, whose names I can't remember, (though I’m sure Sabrina does) - begin to pace themselves like they were taught during rehearsals this morning.

A soft breeze picks up the petals, and they dance along the aisle before settling on the ground again, just as the melody Raven is playing switches to Can't Help Falling in Love, and Father Ricci tells everyone to rise.

Sabrina's hidden by trees at first, as she rounds the bend, over a small bridge above a babbling brook, and then... she's there, heading straight to me. Even though her father is beside her, and the veil hides her face, all I see is her.

As they reach the aisle, I watch her shoulders square back, and I assume her chin lifts defiantly.

There's a tiara of some sort on her head.

the sleeves go off her shoulder into a sweetheart neckline, the glittering corset holds her breasts up and tapers down her waist. The ballgown skirt shimmers in the rays of sunlight peeking through the overcast. Little gloves hold a delicate but large bouquet.

Women in the audience gasp as she begins her descent... my heart thumps with each step she takes. Slow and maddening. Thump… thump… thump…

Her father hands her to me... and I lift her veil.

Th-thump. Th-thump. Th-thump.

That slow beat of my heart becomes an erratic jolt, blood pumping to every part of me so quickly I feel lightheaded.

Ruby red lips. Winged cat eyes, and her usual brown lashes are black and sooty. Every frown line she usually has when she's with me is gone. Her lips spread into a nervous smile, and her nose does one single twitch. If I didn't know how much she hates me, I'd think she was actually… happy .

“If you fall for her, or you don't, be prepared to lose her..."

I silently vow, here and now, that only over my dead body will anyone ever harm her... I look up to see Parker, standing in the back where he thinks he's unseen, face twisted and full of agony. Where I should feel good... feel pride... I don't.I give him a small nod… and he leaves .

I take her by the elbow, and we're in our respective places before my family's priest. And so it goes.

Too soon, she's slipping off her gloves. Her hands are so tiny in mine. So soft. Elegant fingers. Manicured nails. Dainty, breakable wrists, and I'm pleased to see the burn is gone. It didn't mar her skin that looks so fair compared to the tan of my complexion.

"I, Maksim Romeo Giordano, take you, Sabrina Melanie Winters, as my lawfully wedded wife.

I vow to love and honor you, cherish and respect you, in sickness and in health.

I vow from this day forward to protect you, be devoted to you, accept you as you are, support you, and eat your cupcakes until death do us part. "

I slide the ring on her finger, now soldered with a matching wedding band that accentuates the large pink diamond in the center.

The crowd laughs and she smiles brilliantly at me, but it's anything but funny.

It's real.

To me.

"I, Sabrina Melanie Winters, take you, Maksim Romeo Giordano, as my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to love, to cherish and respect, in sickness and in health.

I vow from this day forward, to tolerate your grunts…

and be with you in your silence," my heart seizes "to support you and feed you cupcakes, until death do us part. "

She slips the black titanium ring on my finger.

Though there are still chuckles, more sniffles are coming from the crowd.

"By the power vested in me by God and the state of New York, I now pronounce you, man and wife. Maksim, you may kiss your bride."

I tug her to me, wrap one arm around her middle, which feels and looks smaller than when we first met, and pull her up as I bend forward and press my lips to hers, eagerly, as the chorus for Love Me Like You Do plays from the speakers.

This time, she doesn't fight me. She relaxes into my hold and opens her mouth when I desperately lick the seam of her lips, granting me access.

I almost fall to my knees, a shiver skittering between my shoulder blades and down my spine, delivering what feels like tiny explosions to every nerve ending imaginable.

I am undone.

Sabrina Melanie Giordano, my bride, tastes like everything and nothing.

Of mint and berries and the first frost of the year.

She tastes of thunder and snowstorms, of falling stars, and New Year’s Eve fireworks in the night sky, and my heart can't comprehend exactly what's happening as our tongues twist and collide.

Sparks run through my system, and I know my soul doesn't know whether to jump ship or stay here, to be consumed by her.

But most of all, out of all the mint, and the nothing, and the everything… Sabrina Winters tastes like mine .

I pull away, but not before delivering another small peck to her lips, committing the way she tastes and feels in my arms, along with the way her cheeks have blushed away, to the darkest recess of my mind - branding my brain with this very sight of her.

My wife, my blushing bride.

Mine .

And that terrifies me.

But not enough to ever let her go.

"Boss?" Niko says to me as we watch my bride take pictures with her family. The photographer is an artsy thing, bohemian or whatever hipsters are called these days.

"Hmm?"

I can't take my eyes off of my wife. She glitters and shimmers every time she moves, the ring on her finger sparkles, catching my eye along with her smile. I'm not the only one watching her. Parker stands by, back stiff, but he looks crushed.

"You know how you had me dig into Sabrina's father?"

"Yeah?"

He clears his throat while he lowers his voice and faces me. "The Winters family is uh, low in the brotherhood."

I deadpan away from Sabrina's glittering form to look at my consigliere, feeling my lip curl up in disgust. "What do you mean?"

"They have... royalty kind of levels. At the top," he makes a motion with his hand, "you got… the Prescott’s, the Monroes, the An dersons.

" He puts his other hand beneath the other. "Then you have the Mikaelsons, Moretti’s, Hamilton’s, Nguyens and Hoovers" he places his top hand beneath.

"The Winters, Chens, Cleary's, Jacobsons and Rathborne's. Actually, scratch that. The Jacobson kid died three years ago. Car accident. And the only Rathborne left was the daughter, Paris. Died in the same car accident.”

He stays quiet for another second and then, “Boss?”

“Yeah?”

“That’s only the Northeast American chapter.”

“You notice a lot of deaths in Massachusetts, lately?” I ask him.

He eyes me up and down then blinks. “I heard a rumor there was a killer at the RMU campus last year.

Never caught. Because the MOs were inconsistent.

But there hasn't been a death on that campus since the Riordan kid died in December.

Suicide. But I looked at the autopsy report.

Time of death doesn't correlate with the time his body dropped from the bell tower.”

I make eye contact with my bride over Niko's shoulder as she lifts a hand and summons me over, the ire rising. "I did this for fucking nothing, didn't I?" I growl.

"I wouldn't say 'nothing,' but you will have to push a little harder to be in those meetings and meet the ones you're trying to. Also, from what I'm hearing, the last Prescott alive, Jackson, Stephen Prescott’s brother, mostly just mooched off of Stephen. He has no idea how to run the company."

That had been a freak turn of events, Stephen Prescott was found dead in a hotel with drugs in his system.

Turns out the old geezer like to party pretty fucking hard.

Although every time I look at the little creepy creature my wife calls her 'best friend,' and her trio of misfit toys, I can't help but think there's so much more to the story, given Raven’s stepbrother went missing the same night her stepfather was found dead with multiple stab wounds to the face, neck, chest, and abdominal cavities in their home.

No murder weapon. No surveillance. Just a body.

Huh.

I peer over at Raven, her men looming over her like a pack of rabid dogs, waiting to tear that dress off her. Sure, they look pleasant. All dressed up in rich garbs, speaking to everyone who stops to talk to them, but the girl?

She looks like a killer.

It's in the eyes.

There's a darkness in them that reminds me of Sabrina's.

Suddenly I'm met with profound curiosity if my wife knows any of what happened ?

What secrets do you keep, mia Sposa?

I pat Niko on the shoulder with a grim 'thanks' and make my way to where my bride and my in-laws are waiting for me to take pictures together on the happiest day of our lives.

"At last...."

Sabrina puts her hand in mine, and the warmth of her skin seeps through the material of her glove, as I tug her to me to dance the first dance at our wedding as husband and wife.She seems to be in good spirits, calm, and not at all timid – like she’s been preparing herself for this day for years.

I can’t wait to fuck this up.

"My love... has come along..."

My hand lands on the flare of her hip as I hold her close, her ample chest flush against my ribcage, and her free hand goes to my bicep. God she smells so fucking good. I could breathe her in for a millennia.

"My lonely days... are over..."

Her head tilts to the side and I watch the goosebumps rise on her flawless skin. "I learned something new today, Princess."

"And life is like a song..."

I spin her and when she twirls back to me, I clutch her tighter, and a little gasp catches in her throat. "Your father... has failed to make a name for himself within the brotherhood, hasn't he, princess?"

"At last, the skies above are blue..."

Verdant eyes like sea glass stare up at me, and when my heart begs to beat erratically, I let out a growl, unwilling to let myself feel anything, only let us sidestep to the next few words of the song. "No. Not a princess. Less than. A Dutchess ."

"I found a dream... that I could speak to..."

I almost want to laugh at the words of this fucking song. How fucking ridiculous.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She breathes, struggling a little in my hold but I don't let her escape.

"A dream that I... can call my own..."

"No? Tell me why no one in the Syndicate bothered to look twice in your direction, nor made negotiations for your hand, hmm? Why can't your father pay back his debt, having to arrange for you to pay it off for him? You should be dripping in gold, little wife. So why aren’t you?”

"I found a thrill... to rest my cheek to..."

Another spin, and I wish her skirt wasn't so fucking big, so she could feel my grip through it.

Another small struggle, she only trembles in my hold, fumbling through the dance, and I use that as an excuse to keep her close, lowering my head so she can hear me better, just as Etta James sings, " A thrill that I have never known. "

"Not only are you weak , my gorgeous bride... but it seems you're also as useless as your father." I lay a kiss beneath her ear, and our guests swoon, cheering us on as I feel her throat bob against my lips. A soft whimper escapes her, and the sound goes straight to my cock.

" Oh... you smile... you smile..."

I watch as that stupid fucking smile, which I now know is nothing but a goddamn mask, slips back onto her face. All for them, never for me. It's all a fucking show for this woman.This world is nothing but a stage to her.

"And then the spell was cast..."

"Seems we finally agreed on something, Mr. Giordano," and though that smile is plastered on so tightly, though she looks up at me like a bride adoring her new husband, it doesn't reach her eyes.

It never reaches her eyes. I may as well be holding a corpse bride being held together by nothing but pink twine and diamonds.

"And here we are... in heaven... for you are mine..."

The words she said to her father the day in his office when he told her she would be marrying me ring loudly in my head . “If you are to go destitute, it’ll be my husband you ask for cash. After all, I’ll no longer be your puppet.”

Does this make me my pretty new bride’s master?

I spin her one last time and then dip her, and when Etta James sings the final, " At last..

." I kiss my bride, who tastes of nothing and everything, of mint and berries and beautiful, sultry lies, brutally, so she can taste my disdain for her.

She's breathless and pink when we part, the flush of her skin does something to me I don't like.

Goddamn this woman.

I stand straight and hold her for a second longer before twirling her straight into her good-for-nothing father's arms for their beloved dance. Because my wife, as good as she is at lying, she's perfect at maintaining her image.

She may hate me, but she hates that man more for giving her to me.