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Another mistake.

Luca’s rough hand caresses my face as he tilts my head, looks into my eyes, and asks a question my body answers before my brain.

Then his lips claim mine.

Fierce, ravenous, incandescent.

It’s so shockingly good I gasp into his mouth and my knees weaken.

Holy hell, I hate this.

But a sick little part of me worships it.

Every evil second of bittersweet agony as he steals my breath, my resistance, my last thread of sanity.

I must be insane as my hand drifts to the back of his neck, pulling him in, urging his tongue against mine and wishing he would—

God!

I’m slow to react when he finally rips away and rears back like he’s been hit with a taser.

Luca mutters a “thanks” to the priest, who nods.

With a brief “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Ferrazzo,” and a blessing, he departs swiftly.

Again, I almost forget about the whole mafia thing.

I have to stop doing that.

But my new husband takes me back to the couch and sits me down. It’s like he knows I need it just to screw my head back on.

He calls over our witness.

“Bone, champagne. Spread the good news,” he orders.

“Don’t have to ask me twice, boss. This is an awesome day. Whenever you guys have a real reception, I’ll bring the band on the house.” Bone laughs as he pops the cork on a bottle of Dom Perignon waiting in the bucket.

Real-life fancy champagne I’ve only ever tasted in books and Instagram Reels.

Honestly, I can’t remember having any before, not even a cheap knockoff brand.

“Chicago will never believe this. Guess you’ll find out who gives you more shit, Dom or Cris.” Bone laughs again and raises his glass in a toast, clearly excited. “Our main man, all grown up.”

“All right, that’s enough.” Luca waves him off with a scowl, and Bone quickly makes himself scarce.

Then we’re alone.

My husband and me.

I don’t breathe.

I just sit there, unmoving, trying to get that through my overexcited brain.

How many girls ever go from single to married in one evening with no warning?

Especially when they hate the man they’ve just promised ‘until death do us part.’ And without any alcohol whatsoever.

Weirdly, I feel fine. The imminent death by shock feeling has worn off.