Chapter Eight

Nikk

One hour later in Palmero, Sicily…

“This Sicily place, it’s not half bad. I could get used to it. It’s going to be excellent taking a tour around the Mancini estate, and to take a hefty bite out of it,” I tell Yegor, whose eyes are shielded by sunglasses. It’s a mild summer’s day, but I’m already perspiring.

“Fuck the Mancini estate. We are about to burn in Mancini hell. Or in this stone church. And here we are about to walk in, a bunch of sinners,” Yegor denotes in a sour tone while I chuckle, thumping the middle of his chest.

“No, every man deserves redemption, and we are here to atone for our sins in the name of the heavenly father,” I tell him, but I don’t plan on doing anything of the sort. I plan to sin all over the place for the next twelve months and beyond. Preferably I hope to sin with the L’vitsa underneath me in our defiled marriage bed, but that may take some time.

“I don’t mind being a sinner, especially if I can take someone pretty with me,” Dimitri growls his sunglasses dropping to the bridge of his nose as one of the curvy Italian women eyeballs him, entering the church.

It’s a special day today. I inhale the Italian air knowing I’m going to be taking over the Cosa Nostra soon enough; it’s only a matter of time. I enter the Mon Palme Cathedral, armed to the teeth with my Bratva family, and a couple of outside parties who are arms dealers’ specialists, and proficient in breaking legs and arms as a resume bonus.

The low thrum of God’s music fills the iconic cathedral and the church full of hushed whispers, hostile glances and an underbelly of silent violence. I keep my eyes peeled, signaling the Catholic Cross on my chest, unmoved by the impressive gothic renaissance architecture. I look up at the stained-glass version of Jesus Christ, the irony not lost on me. Two Mafia families are about to join in union, under the guise of peace—when really at best, it’s a silent takeover.

The wedding music switches as I stare into the eyes of the Mancinis, their mouths smiling, but their eyes harboring deep wells of resentment and mistrust. I shake hands as I move through, and notice my Bratva family doing the same, but there’s no camaraderie behind it. This is purely for show. “Good luck today,” Maxim chimes in as he sits on the Bratva side of the pew and I part, stepping in front of the priest.

Nodding at him, the whispers die down as the music amplifies and Elena walks gracefully down the aisle alone. I wonder what she feels inside, and if she would have wanted Rocco to walk beside her. I drop the thought, clearing my mind, mesmerized, just as everyone else is in the church.

She resembles a swan. Not the wild lioness I encountered on the luxury yacht, mildly baffled, I find myself not being able to drag my eyes away from her, until I return to my senses. Don’t be fooled, Nikk. She is all that of a cunning lioness and more.

Her presence renders me breathless as she comes closer. Her exquisitely detailed dress is perfectly tailored to her petite, athletic body, her scent driving me wild. And it only gets worse because when the veil is lifted, she looks even more beautiful than I imagined.

The vows are quick and painless, lacking emotion, but I’m not immune to the last part of the vows. A flash card of claiming Elena’s mouth rushes through my brain, but I correct it.

“It’s time to kiss the bride,” the priest announces, the church eerily silent. There’s no chemistry between us yet, and I’m not planning on provoking the L’vitsa so soon. I dip to kiss her forehead instead, but there’s no doubt in my mind, I will have her. She doesn’t flinch, but her eyes hold contempt, so it appears my decision was the right one.

Standard wedding protocol continues, but the main part is the signing of the marriage contract afterwards. “It’s done now. Peace treaty intact, and we are now in bed together.”

“On paper we are, and that’s the only place we will be,” Elena corrects with fire in her eyes after the ink has dried and we’re ready to exit the cathedral together.

Grinning, I pretend to go along with her delusion. “Why, yes of course,” I reply, having the impulse to whisk her away and do naughty things to her. It’s to be our wedding night after all.

We take a bunch of perfunctory wedding photos outside, but it feels staged, and I doubt Elena, or I will keep the photos of the day, but we play the little stupid wedding game anyway. What I’m focused on is what’s going to happen later on tonight once we get home….

As we ride together in the luxury town car, I resist the urge to link my finger into hers. There’s something so enticing about her aura that it’s near impossible to hold back. But until I can get closer to her, I’m going to have to.

“Not so bad now we’ve ripped the Band-Aid off, am I right?” I probe as Elena turns her face away from me to look out the window.

“It was okay. I’m sure the reception will be better. Especially as you will get an introduction to Sicilian food.” She offers me a tight smile and I laugh.

“What pasta?”

“It’s more than pasta, you’ll see.”

We make it in good time to the reception, which is an old ancient Sicilian relic of a hall, but inside the entire place is decorated with opulence, the chairs wrapped in champagne silk with bows on the back, and the citrine fairy lights dim enough to create a feeling of romance. They shouldn’t have, but it might serve me well, providing me with the opportunity to get one step closer to Elena. Each long wooden table is christened with crisp white tablecloths, florals, and expensive silverware, except for our wedding table, where the tablecloth is black. Makes sense.

As we move through the night’s proceedings, I find myself having a good time. So far both families are cordial together. Eventually as the sun goes down, the music becomes a highlight of the night, and it’s the first dance for the bride and groom together.

“Shall we?” I rise, holding out my hand to a reluctant Elena, but eventually she puts her hand in mine, and we proceed to the dance floor.

“I guess we should, the music is playing.” Smirking, I draw her to the dance floor where all eyes are on us, my hand gliding over her waist. God, it feels good to touch her, to inhale her scent. A tendril of her hair skims over my forearm, sending sensations up my arm.

Sensing her stiffness as her hand sits in mine, I do my best to break the ice. “How are we feeling?” My eyebrow arches as I stare down at her pouting lips, wanting to taste test.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling if I’m being honest,” she says truthfully, and I nod.

“I have a feeling, we’ll settle into married life just fine, you and I. At least the families are getting along,” I whisper as other couples join us on the dance floor. I might have spoken too soon as out of my peripheral vision I see Matteo’s hand flying to Bogdan’s throat.

“You’ve been a Mancini bitch boy for so long. What, they didn’t want you as the Don? Couldn’t cut it, huh?” Bogdan taunts as I groan with Elena breaking away to approach the two men.

“Shut your fucking mouth. You don’t deserve to be here!”

“Fermare!” Elena calls out to Matteo whose eyes are bulging, and if I don’t get ahold of my drama-fueled cousin, guns could be drawn, even though a peace treaty has already been decided upon.

“L’ha iniziato lui!” Matteo fires back indicating he didn’t start the fight, and this time, he’s right. The crowd begins to mutter, and if we don’t break this up soon, it’s going to end in tears.

“Non mi interessa!” Elena gripes, pointing at Matteo, who pushes Bogdan back while he grins.

“Back off, Bogdan. Stop causing mayhem,” I bellow as he smirks, his eyes darkening.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself.”

“I bet,” I drone, snatching him further away from Matteo.

“Don’t fuck this up, otherwise I will stab you in the eye,” I warn him, but all he does is laugh. So much for a peaceful wedding. I find it interesting she spoke to her little sidekick Matteo in Italian. She didn’t want me to know what she’s saying, but little does she know I can speak basic Italian, and I know exactly what she said.

I keep the knowledge to myself for now.

***

The suite room we’re staying together in is big enough for ten people to fit into if necessary, and the antique poster bed is a nice touch. I let the water run over my body wishing Elena could join me in it. Soon, soon, I reason as I step out of the shower toweling down. Elena’s already showered, and understandably it’s been a long day for her.

My cock stiffens as I think about walking out to find Elena snuggled under the covers in our marriage bed waiting for me. The thought of taking her from behind makes my mouth water, but for tonight, I can settle on spooning with her, even if it is torture. Sucking in a deep breath, I exit the steamed-up shower with no shirt, and only my boxers on.

Disappointment awaits as Elena bursts my fantasy bubble. She’s spread out on the floral chaise lounge in her robe, looking like a sleeping beauty. My cock slowly deflates as I pad over softly to get a closer look at the dark angel. I stand over her, enjoying the view. Does she not know how dangerous it is to marry your enemy? Oh, my sweet little L’vitsa. I could end her life tonight and finish the Italians in the other guest suites in a matter of minutes.

Tempting, but it’s not something I plan to do unless she acts up. After a couple of seconds of gawking, I realize Elena has me mesmerized. It surprises me. It’s not my usual reaction to women. Gingerly, I reach out, my finger trembling as I tuck a tendril of her fallen locks behind her ear.

Elena stirs, her warm brown eyes fluttering open.