A flash of heat rolls up from my toes.My insides clench.
I may have only locked eyes with him for half a second, but the raw emotion in them reached deep within my lonely heart and animated parts of me I thought long gone.
Warmth dampens my panties.
Oh shit.I knew it.My body chose the worst moment to start bleeding.Romeo gestures for me to enter the row in front of him.His mother glances over her shoulder at me and gives a pointed look to the pew beside her as her husband lowers them both to sit.
“I’m sorry, but I need the restroom.”Romeo turns as though to lead me to the hall.“No, wait, I can go by myself.Sit with your family.I’ll be right back,” I insist.
I slip my arm free of his grip and glide away without looking back, afraid my mortification stains my cheeks so badly my flush shows through my makeup.
The posh bathroom includes wicker baskets of discreet feminine products.I snatch up what I think I need and dart into a stall, but when I gather my skirt around my waist and pull my panties down my legs, there’s no blood on the fabric.Confusion holds me immobile.
Cool air brushes over my sex.My clit pulses.
I blink.Breathe in.Blink again.
The scent of my arousal fills my nostrils.I shake my head in denial and use half a roll of toilet paper wiping the mess off my panties and between my legs.
There’s no way in hell my body reacted so viscerally from the mere memory of bumping into the man who tore my life apart and ruined my happiness.
I swallow as emotions well up into my throat.After pulling my cold, damp panties into place with a grimace of disgust, I fix my dress, exit the stall, and wash my hands in the marble sink.My eyes sparkle in the mirror.
I blank my mind and step out into the hall.
Calloused digits wrap around my upper arm and tug me against a massive frame.I look up—and up—into eyes the color of warm honey and forget how to breathe.Without a single blemish, his golden irises glow in the bright lights.
Time stands still as my uncle pierces my soul with his fury.
The cold, hard barrel of a gun digs into my ribs.
Every thought and emotion drains from my toes.
He smirks and leads me through the crowd as though he has every right.When he pulls me onto a pew beside him, wedging my hips between the armrest on the end and his masculine frame, awareness rushes through me.
I lean forward to stand, but he pushes me back with his elbow, settles his hand on my thigh, and presses the muzzle of his gun harder against my ribs.He dips his head and squeezes my leg, demanding my attention.
I peel my eyes away from the back of Romeo’s head and meet mocking brown orbs.The golden flecks in his irises glint with amusement as he shatters my world with two sentences.
“I told you I’d always be watching you,paperotta.Did you think I’d let you go if you turned your back on me?”
My instincts were right.I was stupid to ignore them.
Every moment of paranoia flashes through me, and I’m so caught up in my own foolishness I miss the first half of the wedding procession.
The scars on my fingertips tingle with phantom itching as Mario’s familiar cologne invades my nostrils.Pain slices through my heart.
Flowers fill my vision.I catch the massive bouquet on instinct and hiss as Mario’s gun bruises my side.
My mind shifts into hyperdrive and my heart pounds in my skull so hard, I fear my eyes will pop out if it doesn’t slow down, but Camilla refuses to take the heavy bundle of flowers back, ratcheting my panic higher.
I did not just catch her bridal bouquet while Mario Luciano, the man my father once trusted above all others, sits in the pew beside me with his hand on my thigh and the muzzle of his pistol digging into my side through his coat.
He was my childhood crush ten years ago, but then he betrayed my father and abandoned me to a fate worse than death.
Now he’s back again, and I don’t know what he wants.
He squeezes my thigh before releasing my leg to push my arms down so the bouquet rests in my lap.I swallow my disappointment as Camilla continues down the aisle with her stepdaughter in her arms.
