Page 48 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation

She doesn’t want to sign it. She’d like to make amendments. And she’s trying to wriggle out of it to get a better deal even though it looks good enough.

“No changes, nothing,” I say at the looks she gives me. “It’s this or I walk, and you lose everything.”

“It’s not fair.”

I sigh. “It just means you can’t touch a thing of ours and you’ll have no claim when we’re done and you finally have your bratva.”

I’ll have that piece she promised, too. It’s enough that I can force her out of the top position. If I choose.

The wording is careful, and the Volkov Bratva consists of both the aboveboard shipping part and the criminal part, which is stated. The three of us know she has no wiggle room.

And I’m going to be disappointed if she doesn’t spend a great deal of our marriage looking for a way out.

But short of killing me and my family, she’s out of luck.

Try and kill me and I’ll kill her. It’s that simple.

I might, anyway, if I find out she was involved with Siobhan or Paddy.

“My father’s lawyer?—”

“Will get a copy. Sign it or we walk,” I say.

“Give me a pen.” She grips the papers so tight I think she just might tear through them.

Cal hands her one. “I’ll be witness. And then, how about as a gesture of goodwill, I’ll walk the bride down the aisle?”

It’s not an actual question, and as soon as everything’s signed, I go back inside to take my place at the end of the aisle with Dec, who’s delighted to be my best man.

Cal walks her down the aisle a minute later, and Father Luigi clears his throat as Harry scrambles up and hands Ava a bouquet of white orchids.

She offers Ava a brilliant smile, then joins her husband, as Cal sits with his wife, holding her hand.

“Ava, Seamus,” Father Luigi says. “You’ve opted for the short version. A very short version. So I’m here to ask… Ava, do you wish to marry Seamus Dylan Murphy?”

“Yes.” She sounds like she’s about ready for her appointment with Madame Guillotine.

“And Seamus, do you wish to marry Ava Rose Volkov?” Father Luigi asks.

“Absolutely,” I say, offering her a big, shit-eating grin.

The priest looks heavenward for a moment, but says, “I then pronounce you husband and wife, until death do you part.”

Arnold barks.

I send Father Luigi a dark look at that last one and his eyes dance.

Asshole. I didn’t put that in the vows.

But it’s done. The quickest wedding in history and Harry, Lucie, and Dec take photos with their phones.

Afterward, we leave the church where Mikey waits to drive us all home.

Ava’s silent for the ride, but Dec can talk enough for everyone in the limo. It’s not the party limo, but it’ll do.

When we get home, Ava stands in the foyer, unyielding, like she’s a saint sent wrongly into hell. And we’re her hell.

Anyone else, I’d feel sorry for. But she keeps looking at me with that hard-as-fucking nails expression, the disdain and hate tangled in her fiery glare.