Chapter 40

St. Andrew's Church is on the Upper East Side, nestled between high-rises. The city streets bustle around it, but inside is another story. Inside, it's like another universe. One where you'd swear Greek Gods were going to smash through the stained glass windows at any moment.

It's a structure worthy of awe. Marble floors meet beautiful stone walls, stained glass windows set deeply into them. The light of the day casts colorful hues across the three rows of pews facing the apse, where the priest will stand and bind me and my bunny.

It had taken a lot to get into St. Andrew's. Palms were greased, and favors exchanged with the priest, not to mention the people we'd bumped out of the space, stealing their wedding day bliss by stepping ahead of them.

But it's the perfect place to wed my bride. It's where I was christened. It's where my parents were married. And it's where I'll watch Brynne walk down the aisle in only an hour.

"You doing alright? You don't have cold feet, do you?" Dante asks, clapping me on the back.

I shake my head, a smirk tugging my lips up. I scratch my face and then scrub my hands around my mouth. My beard has been on the regrow for weeks, and I know Brynne misses it. So, I let it grow wilder for our honeymoon to the cabin.

However, each time the blasted thing grows, it itches. It's going to drive me insane.

More reason to punish her.

I almost forget Dante is beside me and reach to adjust my cock.

He sighs, and I stiffen. "Hopefully we start on time," he says, and my murderous eyes flare toward him.

"What do you mean by that? What's happened?"

"Whoa!" He throws his hands up. "Have you ever heard the phrase, ‘Don't shoot the messenger'?"

"I think it's don't kill the messenger," I retort. "But you've forgotten who you're speaking to."

He swallows. "Well, there was something to do with the dress and some champagne. I didn't get the full story from the Maid of Honor, but from what I got from the meltdown, they were working to fix it."

"Alyssa?" I ask, lifting a brow.

He nods, licking his lips. It's something I've never seen him do. It raises awareness in my brain.

"Alyssa was having a meltdown?" I ask.

"Yes," he says in a huff. "It's fine. I think I took care of it."

I nod, still eyeing him as a blush tinges on his cheeks. "You like her, don't you?"

I'm usually not one to poke fun at someone or give them shit, but it's giving me a high to make the moment about him instead of me. Torture in the absence of a weapon, if you will, even if there are armed men from both families stationed throughout the property for protection.

The reaper is off duty, though.

He brushes his hand through his hair awkwardly. "I don't know. It's been so long, you know? And she's very loud and outspoken. And handsy."

I let the last admittance go, as I don't want to know what Alyssa had attempted to do to my right-hand man, but I soften slightly toward him, as I know what happened to his wife.

It's got to be hard to pick up the bits of you that are broken after you lose a love like that. They'd been inseparable from what everyone's told me over the years, and then to have her ripped away from you like that…

I grit my teeth and push the thought away.

"We don't need to talk about it, though. Today is not the day!" Dante announces, pulling me back from a dark place.

"Today is my day," I agree. "Bunny's day."

Dante snorts, and I pin him with a stare, daring him to say something to the contrary.

He puts his hands up. "Bunny's day!" He steps down the stairs of the apse, where we'd been looking at the gathering guests below, turning backward to smirk at me.

"You still got the ring?" I ask.

He nods, thumping his hand over his inside breast pocket. "I got it, Boss. Don't worry. Go get a drink or something."

"This is a church, Dante."

He laughs. "I'm sure the priest has something you can partake of. A little blood of Christ."

I roll my eyes back at him but head toward the door to the left of the apse that reads church staff only.

* * *

Father Russo isn't ancient,maybe in his mid-forties. He's sitting behind his desk when I knock and he shouts out that I can come inside.

"Ahh, Mr. Ricci, all ready for the big day?" he asks, standing and beckoning me inside.

"As ready as I'll ever be, though I never thought I'd be here. Not just here, but married."

He sits, motioning for me to do the same as he leans over and opens his drawer, pulling out a bottle of Barolo red wine and two glasses from inside. He acts nonchalant as I gape at Dante for his correctness.

"I know what you mean, Mr. Ricci. I mean, I am a man of faith, no doubt. But your reputation precedes you." He glances at me, the lines on the outside of his blue eyes telling a story all their own.

I grab the drink from his hand and sip steadily. "And how does that work for me, exactly? How do I balance the reputation and what I've done, the blood on my hands, and loving this woman so fiercely? I know I'm not good for her, Father."

He sits back, sipping his wine as I watch the cogs turn behind his eyes. "Well, I think you are most yourself in either scenario."

My brows furrow, not taking his meaning. "Explain."

"Well, it was Friedrich Dürrenmatt,I think, who said it best: It is only in love and murder that we remain sincere."

His words settle between us.

"So, even though I'm a killer, I am sincere in that portion of my life, as I am with Brynne. Therefore, it'll work?"

He chuckles, having emptied his glass before I even took another sip. "Something like that. Just remain true to yourself and true to your love, Mr. Ricci, and you'll be alright."

I take another sip, letting the buzzing veil over me. "Thank you, Father. You know, I'm surprised you let a man like me step foot on this hallowed ground."

I'm also surprised Lucifer hasn't stuck his hand through the floorboards and dragged me below.

I keep that particular thought to myself, but I'm certain he's just had the same one.

His face grows darker. "This is a tricky topic for me because I've seen good in this world, Mr. Ricci and I don't like it stamped out. But I've also seen the vitriolic side of society and that side? That side needs your exact brand of checks and balances. If you know what I mean."

I nod once. "I know exactly what you mean."

The sound of the organ meant to seat the guests and start the festivities humming to life has me downing the rest of my wine and handing my glass over to him. "Thank you, Father."

"Most welcome. I'll see you out there."

When I exit his office, I hear the wine bottle clinking against the rim of the glass as he pours himself another.

Seems the reaper unnerves even the most innocent and holy of men.

I get to the apse, where my groomsmen are all lining up and settling. They're laughing about something I'd missed while drinking with the priest.

"Where is Dante?" I ask Lorenzo.

He shrugs, looking around.

"I think I saw him go into the coat closet," Antonio says. He's Brynne's addition to my groomsmen since I have no friends to speak of.

Growling, I stalk down the apse toward the closet nearest the door. There had been an open window and a counter to lay your coat upon, so the person working the interior would tag and put your things away. Now, that window is shuttered.

Grasping the handle and shoving inside, I register what I'm hearing too late. My eyes catch up to the sound, and I freeze in my place.

"My day, huh?" I say, and Dante swings his eyes around from where he's fucking some tart against the wall, behind a rack of coats. His slacks are to his ankles, and his breathing is ragged.

"Sorry, Boss. Had something to handle." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box, throwing it at me.

"Give him hell," I tell the woman he's gone back to drilling into.

"I plan on it," Alyssa's voice sounds, and I laugh as I close the door.

I stop dead in my tracks, the small box in my hand feeling like a block of cement.

Brynne is clad in her wedding gown, peeking through the cracked doors of the church, breathing in panicked breaths.

"Bunny," I say huskily.

She stands pin-straight and doesn't turn. "You're not supposed to see me before I come down the aisle!"

"Who said that?" I ask, stepping toward her.

"I don't know. The infamous they did," she says, still hanging on tightly to the handles on the doors she's now closed.

"Well, I'll murder them. Will that make you feel better?"

Her dress is off the shoulder, her hair in a sinful updo I can't wait to fuck up. I lift my finger and skim it over her shoulder, and her head lolls to the side.

"Slate."

"Wife?"

She finally turns, and I back up to get the full effect of her dress.

Her makeup is done perfectly, and now I forget about her hair because that lipstick smeared down her chin, and her mascara running down her cheeks is all I can think about.

"Fuck, look at you. You're beautiful," I whisper.

She smiles and twirls left to right. But there's sadness in her eyes.

"What's the matter?" I ask, stepping forward into her.

"Nothing. It's stupid…"

"Nothing is stupid. The only stupid thing is leaving something unsaid that would make you feel better to say. So, out with it."

"I have to walk down the aisle alone, and I don't know why, but it makes me sad."

I cup her face, and she shuts her eyes. Gold shimmers on her lids that have been perfectly painted.

"No, you don't." It's as simple as that. I shove the wedding band box into my breast pocket, and move to her side, offering her my arm.

"What… Well, I can't…"

"Why can't we? Fuck the rules and regulations, bunny. They're meant to be broken. And who better to break them than us?"

She smiles as The Wedding March sounds from the other side of the doors, as if the priest had known this was where I was all along. The doors open from the other side, one of each of our men holding it open for us to proceed down the aisle.

"Here goes forever, hmm?" she asks, slipping her arm into mine.

"Here goes forever."

* * *

The lights twirloverhead inside the reception hall. We're on the stage, sat at the head table as people line up to give congratulations, and to drop envelopes of money into the basket Dante had put before our table. In true Italian tradition.

My wife has her legs draped over my lap, and she's sipping wine like she has a better tolerance than she truly does. But it's fine because she's got a husband and protector to get her safely home.

She smirks at me when she catches me staring. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, baby girl. Just taking it all in."

"It's a lot, right? We're married!" she squeaks, leaning over and dropping her legs away to kiss me firmly.

"We are at that," I mumble between kisses, and the crowd below goes wild.

"Something's going on between my right-hand man, and yours," I tell Brynne when I look over the room and find Dante and Alyssa locked in a bickering argument near the refreshment table, even though I walked in on them entangled together like two school children having their first fuck.

"I know. I caught them in the bathroom yesterday fucking," she says nonchalantly.

"What?" I choke on the water I'd been sipping. "I caught them today in the coat closet. Mind you, in a church!"

She giggles. "Maybe they'll be the next wedding we attend."

Alyssa throws her wine over Dante, and a table behind them erupts in shouts and laughs to egg her on. "Maybe not. They seem to have a love/hate thing going on."

I shake my head as I look away. When I find her eyes, they're filled with adoration. "Isn't that how all the great love stories begin?" My smile is full and unburdened for the first time in my life. True happiness radiates through my chest. "At least I know one that did."

"I love you, you overbearing, psychotic, Italian brute!" she says.

"Ce que certains appellent la folie, mais ce qui pour moi, est la seule fa?on d"aimer." I reply. — "I have loved to the point of madness. That which some call madness, but which to me, is the only way to love."