Crime Boss to Tie the Knot with FBI Agent—Alliance of the Year!
Wedding of the Century: When Two Worlds Collide.
It’s been a media circus. Half the articles can’t even get their facts straight—I’m not even an agent anymore, for crying out loud. My heart does this dull, painful thud at the reminder that I’m essentially unemployed now. No badge, no purpose, no idea what comes next…
Before I can spiral into a depressive state, the door bursts open and Sheily, my wedding coordinator, practically floats in.
“It’s time!” she announces, then stops dead when she sees me. Her hand flies to her chest in a gesture so dramatic it belongs on a soap opera. “Oh my days, you’re hands down the most stunning bride I’ve seen this year.”
Considering it’s December 21st, I’ll take that as the high compliment it is.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
“Are you ready?” She picks up my veil from the bed, and suddenly this is all very, very real.
35
RAFAEL
I stand under the little floral arch in the back garden of my top hotel in the city, Black Diamond, my brothers by my side and my subjects before me as I wait for the woman who’s about to become my wife.
Fifteen years. Fifteen fucking years I’ve been waiting for this moment, and I have not a single doubt in my head that I’m making the right decision.
A slow string quartet starts playing, drawing my attention to the hotel’s back doors that exit into the garden. Katie walks out first, and Christ, if looks could kill, I’d be six feet under right now. Her face is twisted in pure disdain, like she’d rather be getting a root canal than watching her best friend marry me.
Couldn’t talk her out of it, could you?
As she comes to a stop across the arch from me, the quartet shifts into the traditional bridal march. My pulse kicks into overdrive as I fix my gaze on those doors, every nerve ending crackling with anticipation.
This is it.Fifteen years of obsession, fifteen years of wanting, fifteen years of patient hunting—and finally,finally, she’s about to be legally, irrevocablymine.
The doors open again.
And there she is.
Her beautiful honeyed hair is swept up in an intricate masterpiece, secured with the diamond pins I specifically demanded her stylist use. Two perfectly curled strands fall to either side, softening her features and drawing the eye to her pretty face. The gossamer silk veil is held firmly in place by her crown, which glimmers in the evening sun. The light dances across the jewels, casting a soft halo that makes her look almost ethereal. Untouchable. But she’s not—she’s mine. Every glittering thread of that crown, every shimmer of that veil, tells the world exactly who she belongs to.
Look at her. Look at my queen.
Let it blind every bastard watching until they get it drilled deep into their skull that she’s my queen.
My eyes travel down to her dress, and fuck me, she chose perfectly. It’s slightly off-shoulder and looks as if it was crafted from the most delicate material. The bodice clings to her body, the neckline plunging a little but managing to show not a single hint of cleavage. Still, my mouth waters as I follow the line of the dress flowing gracefully out and cascading into an enchanting train behind her.
She’s absolutely stunning.
And then she stops walking.
My hands automatically slip into my pockets as my heart starts hammering against my ribs. She’s frozen just a few steps from the exit, clutching that bouquet of pink roses like a lifeline, her face tight, looking so goddamn forlorn.
No. No, don’t you dare run from me now.
My chest constricts, everything inside me swelling with the need to go to her. I take a small step forward, catching her eyes across the distance.Come to me, beautiful. Trust me.I give her what I hope is an encouraging nod, and I swear I see some of that tension leave her shoulders. Maybe it’s wishful thinking,but I want to believe my presence alone can calm the storm inside her.
But then Romero’s hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing once before he abandons his post beside me and makes his way down the aisle towards my bride. Whatever he says to her makes her smile, and when he offers his arm, she takes it. The sight of her face lighting up makes a warm, possessive pride spread through my veins.
She must be drowning in emotions right now. If Stacey wasn’t such a vindictive bitch, determined to make me her personal enemy, I might have invited her today. She could have walked Emilia down the aisle, given her that family connection she’s missing. Perhaps that would have made Emilia feel less alone. But Stacey made her choice, and now my brother is stepping up to fill that void.
Thank God for Romero and his instincts.
