Page 51 of Thorns of Blood

“As soon as this is through, one of my men will take you back to the mainland,” I told him, biting back the sharp reply sitting on my tongue. “Nobody has cold feet.”

“You could’ve fooled me,” Romeo muttered.

“My feet are freezing,” Liana hissed, her gaze set longingly on the ocean.

“What about the fee you promised?” the priest asked. “I was counting on that.”

A sardonic breath left me. Why was a supposedly pious man so desperate for cash? Something told me I wouldn’t have to dig deep to find the rot, but he wasn’t my concern tonight.

“You’ll have it as soon as you finish the ceremony.”

Seemingly appeased, his eyes flicked to the bride-to-be. “Will you be changing into a wedding dress?”

“No,” she answered at the same time I said, “She will.”

Her expression turned so dark I sensed Romeo wince at my side.

I cleared my throat. “There’s a dress waiting for you in there.”

I waved a hand behind the little bar area that stood next to a closed door.

Liana shot me a look, her golden eyes flashing. “I’m not a blushing bride, and I’m definitely not a virgin. What’s the point of a wedding dress?”

“I wanted you to have something to remember this day by.”

She folded her arms in front of her chest, pushing her boobs up. “Giovanni, I’m being forced into a marriage.Yet again. Why would I want to remember this?”

She stared right at me, stubbornness etched on every line of her face. It was freaking adorable. “Why are you acting like I’m a normal girl? I’m far from it. I’m not sweet or kind.”

“I don’t want a normal girl. I don’t want a sweet girl. I don’t want a perfect girl. I wantyou, Liana Volkov, because to me you are perfect.”

Fuck, I was coming on too strong.

“Why?”

“To protect you.” Our gazes locked, hers shimmering in gold and hazel, likely scheming how to become a widow before we even tied the knot.

“I can protect myself.”

“Put the dress on, darling,” I said, smiling brightly.

“You should know something about me, Giovanni,” she retorted, her tone frigid. “I don’t take orders from anyone, least of all a man.”

“It isn’t an order,” I assured her, ignoring her latter comment. “It’s an ask. The world will need convincing about the wedding, and we’ll give them that. With photos. Of you,in a wedding dress.”

A heartbeat passed before she turned on her heel and made for the door.

“Two minutes,” I drawled after her. “By the way, I don’t take orders either.”

She flipped me a middle finger over her shoulder, then shut the door behind her.

“With the bride’s reluctance, I will need additional compensation,” the priest remarked, smiling feebly. If I didn’t need the motherfucker, I’d throw him overboard. As it may.

“How much?” I asked in a chilled tone.

“A hundred thousand.”

I let out a sardonic breath. “Just to read a few paragraphs from scripture and proclaim us husband and wife?”