I stop midway in the aisle, one hand in my pocket and my other hovering over the front of the black suit jacket. “My deepest apologies, Father, to speak before you ask for any objections.” My voice echoes off all the stone columns in front. “This matter could not wait a second longer.”
Father tilts his head to the side right when I reach around my back to pull out my Glock and aim it at Ian.
Ian drops Isabella’s hand and goes to reach for his own gun. Everyone in the pews is ducks down, guns are aimed everywhere from the men seated throughout, screams fill the room, and the Di Marco family stand and shout. They don’t get very far. My men have exited from the shadows along the sides of the aisles.
Isabella is frozen in her place but keeps trying to look at her father, Don Costa, who, is just sitting there like it’s a normal fucking Sunday sermon at church while checking his watch. At least this old bastard is holding his end of the bargain. His sad excuse of a wife screaming, trying to get him to do something.
I pull the trigger, the pop makes a loud sound, Ian crashes down next to Isabella, covering her in his blood and she then lets out a scream from her lips. Her white dress is painted withcrimson red, and she looks fucking stunning. There are little droplets on her face, her chest and her hands. I breathe heavily though my nose at whose blood it is and not mine covering her.
When I look at her horrified, traumatized face, I knew in that moment I fucked up. I was so wrapped up in wanting to get Ian the away from her, I didn’t realize killing him would make her get the fuck away from me. Even now, she’s putting more distance between us. Her bouquet falls out of her hands as she takes several steps back.
I walk up to the alter, nudge Ian with my foot to make sure he is in fact dead.
“You son of a bitch, Ricci. You will fucking pay for this. I will destroy you!” Don Di Marco roars reaching for his gun and aiming at my chest.
I laugh at his eagerness. “Very unlikely, old man.” My mouth turns up into a grin. “Do it and see what happens to your family, Di Marco. I have no problem killing you, your whole family and anyone who dares to cross me. Regardless of being in front of God himself.”
“You killed my son!” he seethes.
I step in front of him, the barrel of his gun pressing into my chest and my hand wraps around his throat. I squeeze cutting off the oxygen from his lungs to his brain. “She’s mine,” I grunt.
“You killed my son over a fucking whore?”
“You speak to my wife like that again, I will make sure there is nothing left of you. Nothing left of your family. I will kill every single person who belongs to your blood line and send every single one of you to hell.” I grunt.
My men and Di Marco’s all aim at each other waiting for the command from one of us to get the permission to start shooting. Angelo meets my gaze, who has his weapon on Di Marco’s second in command. I give him a simple nod to remove the rest of the Di Marco’s.
I return my gaze on to Isabella who is still in the same place. Father is shaking and silently praying to God.
I stride up to her and take her hand in mine. She tries to pull hers out of my grip, but I tighten mine. “Isabella,Amuri miu,if you want to keep your pathetic family alive.” I lean in with my lips grazing her ear, breathing in her lavender sweet scent. “Don’t do something you will regret. Be a good girl and listen to Father.”
She stills when my lips touched her ear. I could see her pulse beating faster in the nook of her neck. I had to push the urge down to drag my tongue over it. She reluctantly nods.
My eyes never leave hers when I cast over my shoulder to father, “As you were. My apologies for causing such a ruckus. Please, let’s continue.”
He opens his bible with shaky hands and begins with a trembling voice, “Do you,” his voice trembles as he looks at me, trying to ask for my name.
“Enzo Fredico Ricci,” I correct him a little irritated.
“Enzo Fredico Ricci, take Isabella Rose Costa to be your wedded wife? To hold, to honor, to protect, to love for all the days of your life?”
My thumb traces the back of her hand feeling her soft skin against my rough callous hands. “I do.”
He turns to Isabella and asks, “Do you, Isabella Rosa Costa, take Enzo Fredico Ricci to be your wedded husband? To hold, to honor, to protect, to love for all the days of your life?”
She says nothing and just stares at me, trying to decide if this is a dream or a nightmare or even real. But it is very real.
After what seems like an eternity, she responds so softly that I would have missed it if I was not watching her lips move. “I do.”
Father Roberto hands shake as he flip the page of the Bible. “The rings?” he asks.
My other hand slides into my pocket to pull out the red velvet box. I flip it open and hand it to Father Roberto.
He passes hers to me and mine to her. I spent weeks looking for the perfect ring. After Costa agreed for me to marry Isabella, I wanted to have the perfect piece of jewelry. It’s gold thin band, with two princess-cut diamonds on the side of the tear drop sapphire diamond in the middle. The matching wedding band has five princess-cut diamonds in the center. Isabella does not want the flashy and gaudy ring on her finger that is going to weigh her down like the one she had. This is a ring fit for a mafia queen.
One of my men drags Ian’s lifeless body toward the back door at the altar, leaving a blood trail with him. Angelo signals another one to lazily wipe up the mess Ian left.
I lift my hand to gently wipe the blood off her face and whisper, “I’m sorry that I messed up your makeup.”
