Page 124 of Unforgiving Queen

“You’re making it difficult to resist you.” I was his. He was mine. Fear and doubt were still there, lodged in my heart, but it was impossible to hold on to it. “This isn’t exactly how I imagined my proposal, you know.”

He took my hands in his and then lowered himself to one knee. The stormy dark skies in his eyes bore into mine as a rare smile curved his lips.

“Reina, my cinnamon girl, will you please be my wife? I love you. I’ve tasted life without you, and I don’t want it. Nothing and nobody makes me burn. Not like you do. I’m nothing without you. If I have to prove myself for the rest of our lives, I’ll do it. Three years ago, you gave me your heart, and I’m not giving it back.”

I swallowed. “You’re wrong.”

His dark gaze filled with anguish as he brought my palm to his lips and kissed it. “There hasn’t been anyone else for me, cinnamon girl,” he vowed. “I couldn’t bear another woman after you. My heart has been yours all along. Please don’t break it.”

My throat closed. I couldn’t move, couldn’t form words.

We stared at each other for what felt like forever when I broke. The sincerity in his expression made that earlier hope blossom to something real. I searched deep into my soul for what I knew to be true, and I made a decision.

“I didn’t give you my heart three years ago,” I murmured. “It was yours way before that.”

Amon’s eyes blazed with a darkness that vowed to sweep me into the abyss. “Just you and me. Together. Against the world.” I nodded, my heart shuddering with each beat. “Will you give me the honor of calling you my wife?”

And just like that, he was forgiven. Three years of pain and suffering erased by such simple words. It was selfish and wrong, but at that very moment, I forgot all about Dante and Phoenix.

Happy tears rolled down my cheeks. “Yes.”

Oh my God. I was marrying Amon. My bitter prince would become my king.

45

REINA

Iwalked down the aisle of the empty church in Venice, oblivious to its beauty. All my focus was on Amon in his black tuxedo, standing in front of a priest in his full Sunday suit.

The astonishment and awe in his eyes were my guiding light as I closed the distance between us.

The moment I was within reach, he slid his hand around my waist and pulled me close, his chest brushing against mine.

“You look so fucking beautiful.” Emotion hung heavy in his voice. “The most beautiful specimen in this world.”

My breath snagged at the base of my throat from so many emotions dancing in my chest.

“The dress is perfect,” I murmured softly, smoothing the soft material with my free palm. “You have good taste.”

“I do,” he confirmed, although the look in his eyes told me he wasn’t talking about the dress.

The wedding dress he’d picked as his favorite—Valentino wedding gown which was my favorite as well—was stunning. I would have preferred to make my own but I couldn’t deny it: Amon’s choice was perfect in every way. The material hugged my waist as it fell to the floor in an abundance of lace and satin. The long train, embellished with pearls, drifted behind me, making me feel like a heroine in one of the fairy tales I used to love so much. Amon even thought of something blue—lacy garter—and something old—an antique bracelet that had belonged to his grandmother.

My hair was pulled up in a pearl-adorned crown with a veil attached.

“You can start,” he ordered the priest, his eyes never leaving my face. The priest started the ceremony and spoke with a heavy Italian accent, but I wouldn’t even dream of complaining.

I was unable to rip my gaze from the carnal possession shining in Amon’s depths. “Skip that,” he demanded.

I suppressed a laugh at his eagerness.

“Do you, Amon Leone, take Reina Romero as your lawfully wedded wife, to be with you always, in wealth and in poverty, in sickness and in health, in happiness and in grief, from this day until death do you part?”

Amon’s attention never wavered from mine. “I do.”

The priest chuckled at his ready response.

“Do you, Reina Romero, take Amon Leone as your lawfully wedded husband, to be with you always, in wealth and in poverty, in sickness and in health, in happiness and in grief, from this day until death do you part?”