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My wife already, eh?
I text him back and tell him what happened.
My hand’s fucking shaking. I hate that I have to behave in front of the cameras.
Renata places a calming hand on my arm. "It's okay, he doesn't matter, Ollie. He’s a stupid boy for crying out loud.”
"It does matter. You're going to be my wife in minutes. And they will all show you respect.”
The guard turns to me.
"She betrayed you. She betrayed all of us," the guard says. I swivel and strike. My fists move before I think, bone meeting bone, the sound of breaking flesh music to my fucking ears. I caught him off guard, so he doesn’t get a chance to block my blows. He falls to the ground.
"Get the fuck out of here. If I ever see you again, I'll kill you."
He scrambles to his feet and starts to run away.
"What the hell is going on here?" Mikhail says, coming around the corner.
I fill him in. Mikhail looks at the retreating back of the guard and makes his own call.
"Shake him down at the gate. I need to see him before he goes," he says quietly into the phone. He slides his phone in his pocket and turns to Renata with an apologetic look.
“I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”
Renata shrugs but can’t hide the slight quiver of her jaw. “If I cared what any of you thought about me, I wouldn’t be here.”
I reach for her and cup her jaw, running my thumb along her cheek, leaving a streak of blood in its wake.Shit.I’ll need Harper to fix that. It feels oddly symbolic.
"Are you okay?" I ask her.
She stares me in the eyes, not flinching or pulling away. My hand still vibrates from hitting the bastard. She nods and swallows.
It's going to take some time for her to trust me, for her to know not to fear every touch of mine.
“Are you sure? I’m sorry.”
“I’ve always wanted a hot, jacked bad boy to defend my honor,” she says with a hint of a smile and dripping sarcasm. “Really, Ollie, I’m fine. If something like that is going to ruffle me, I don’t belong in this family.”
She isn’t wrong.
Wait. Did she just call me hot? I can’t help but give her a self-satisfied smirk.
The ceremony is brief. Utilitarian. I hope for something meaningful when the older orthodox priest Mikhail arrangedto marry us talks about love and marriage and commitment, but truthfully… I don't. All I'm doing is scanning the crowd, looking for any sign of disturbance. I half expect Carlos to come marching in with a machine gun, sending people running everywhere. But he doesn't, and they don't. I'm so distracted, but the ceremony marches on.
Until we get to our vows.
"Take this woman…" The priest's voice is warm, reverent. His bushy gray beard reminds me of a painting of Moses I once saw in Italy.
I swallow hard and meet Renata’s eyes. "I do," I say softly when the time is right. Her eyes widen as if surprised. I can’t help it. I feel it, too, as if the brief vow in the end is more than words but an incantation that stirs something magical.
"Renata," the priest begins. His voice carries the weight of tradition and authority. Our guests fall into a hushed silence. I cup her hands with mine. Her pouty lips part slightly as she draws in a breath.
"Are you coming here of your own free will and accord?" he asks, holding her gaze. What the fuck? Did he add that? I give him a sharp look, and the crowd behind us gives a collective gasp. I can feel Mikhail getting to his feet, and someone racks the slide of their gun. Mom speaks in a hushed, vehement whisper as if that will stop any of my brothers.
But Renata only looks at me, holding my gaze with her chin thrust in the air. "I am," she says.
He continues.
