Chapter 7

Riccardo

I can’t help the pinch of relief when I finally hear Elena say it out loud. For a moment of silence, I thought she was going to ruin all of our plans for the sake of her own pettiness. That distant look in her eyes makes it so damn clear that she remembers me.

Does Elena remember everything, though?

I raise an eyebrow slightly, looking into her eyes—but she doesn’t show me her thoughts and looks away to the priest who hurries to continue his speech. That momentary pause from Elena really put everyone on their tenterhooks, and I can’t help but smirk a little, thinking what the poor guy would do if she said no. Not that Elena herself would have more than a few minutes to celebrate her own pride.

“...Now, Don Riccardo, hold the bride’s hand and repeat after me.”

Oh, right. I reach out to get her hand, and Elena tenses up as soon as I move toward her—but hey, it’s not like I really want to do it. I ignore the way her fingers refuse to yield to mine and remain curled and frozen even as I wrap my hands around them.

The priest starts the vow then, and I repeat after him without a second thought, but my mind keeps drifting to the touch we share. It doesn’t feel like holding hands with Grandma or Teresa, my niece. Perhaps, because it brings up too many memories from the past.

Elena’s hands aren’t just frozen in one position—they’re actually cold, and I run my thumbs over her skin before I can catch myself. She blinks at that and looks me in the eyes, and I end up with the last words of the vow spoken in the space between us.

“...to love and cherish you till death do us part.”

Elena’s eyes haven’t changed at all since the last time I saw her. They’re as bright blue with a tint of gray steel as I remember them. She always looks so cold and collected—but I know what it’s like to make her cry and break apart in my arms. An unwanted memory makes its way into my mind, and I feel my heart respond to it with a sudden jolt. Damn it. Not the best time.

“Elena Pushkova, now, you repeat every word after me,” the priest keeps talking in the meantime, and I can see Elena swallow and take a deep breath as if she’s getting ready to plunge into something deep and dangerous.

“I, Elena, take you, Riccardo, as my husband.” Her gaze remains on me as she starts repeating the vow, and for some reason, it feels special.

It feels real, as if we are getting married of our own free will— which is stupid, of course, because why would we ever? Yet I can’t help the feeling, not when Elena’s fingers finally move in my hold, grasping my hands—but it’s not a careful hold. It’s not the hold of a woman who loves. It’s the clutch of a woman who hates, and as soon as I think about it, the intense look in her eyes suddenly makes sense.

Of course Elena would be damn livid to spend the rest of her life with someone like me—which brings a smirk to my lips. Oh, I’ve always loved tormenting her for a reason. I can’t wait to see that fiery look Elena has when I finally reach her limits.

The priest and Elena finish her vow, and it’s time to exchange the rings. Paolo brings them forward, and I can see that he’s barely holding back a chuckle when our eyes meet. Yes, of course, this whole ceremony is very funny—but he’s like that sometimes. I don’t blame him. It is a circus.

I have to let go of Elena’s hands to get the rings, and I absentmindedly notice just how quickly she pulls away from me. It makes something old in my chest flare up again. Why the hell is she being so cocky? Acting like she’s better than me. I clench my jaw, sending her a warning glare, and Elena’s eyes widen slightly when she sees it. Good. She should be scared.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and devotion,” I repeat after the priest, keeping my voice low and cool. My gaze is fixed on her hand in mine, pale and elegant, as I speak the words of love and lie. “With all that I have, I promise to support and care for you from this moment until forever.”

I raise my head as I put the ring on her finger, and Elena looks up at me a moment later. I can’t read the expression in her eyes—they hide her heart from me. But I notice the unusually pale tint of her skin and the way she purses her lips and blinks a few times as if forcing herself to stand upright. God, she’s not gonna pass out, is she?

I squeeze her hand a bit tighter, and Elena blinks out of it with a hurried nod. Her eyes focus on the ring Paolo holds up for her, and I can see that she repeats after the priest automatically. Her voice is void of emotions, and the expression on her face is just…empty. Is it so bad to be here with me?

I feel another rush of heated frustration—but I catch myself a moment later. Damn it. Why does it affect me? Why do I care? It’s just a business deal, so I force my emotions under control and keep my gaze on her while Elena herself reaches to take my hand in hers. She’s slow and careful in her movements as if delaying the inevitable.

“...I promise to support and care for you from this moment until forever,” Elena repeats and finally slides the ring onto my finger, confirming that which was decided a few weeks ago. The deal is sealed.

The Messina Clan and Russian Bratva have officially tied the ends of their families together.

The thought itself and the wave of excitement that follows it take over my mind, blurring the noise of the priest’s speech and the applause of the guests around us. I wonder just how many of them wish this moment had never happened. It’s gonna take a long time for us to get used to each other, but what’s important now is—

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Groom, you may kiss the bride.”

Oh. Shit. I forgot about that part.

I focus back on the present moment and the woman in front of me. Judging by the flash of panic in her eyes, Elena didn’t think we would get here either. For a second, we just stare at each other in silence—but hell with it. It’s a tradition, so I push back every feeling in my chest and pull Elena in for a kiss.

As soon as our lips touch, I feel a wave of memories blind me—the intoxicating smell of her perfume, the sighs and moans escaping her mouth as Elena writhed under my hands, pushing closer. Damn it. Warmth spreads through my body, and the memories take over me so quickly that it takes me a moment to realize that Elena has pulled away from me.

She stares at me, tense and heavily breathing, and as soon as I catch her gaze a rush of blood muffles my ears. Who the hell does she think she is? I feel a heated surge of rage, and before anyone has the time to realize what just happened, I grip the back of Elena’s neck and force her into another kiss.

For a moment, Elena doesn’t move, frozen against me like a doe; it’s only when I push harder into her lips that Elena finally gives in. The tension doesn’t leave her body, but she yields to the kiss and even kisses me back. She does it harsher than I expected, and I realize that she’s trying to prove something. What, does it make her feel like she has any power over me?

The thought makes me chuckle into the kiss, and I grasp her neck tighter and bite her lip hard before pulling back. Our gazes meet as soon as I open my eyes, and I see that fiery look I’ve been waiting for. Elena’s eyes turn so dark and blue when she glares at me with this mixture of anger and hatred that I can’t help the desire spreading in me. Damn it. Now I see why I was so addicted to it in college.

The thunder of applause and congratulations pulls me back into reality, and I instinctively turn to the rest of the crowd with a grin on my lips. What a gift to have a Russian princess as a wife—in addition to the power of her whole family. My gaze darts to Yuriy, and I see that he’s laughing and clapping as well, looking pleased with himself. It is a good deal, indeed.

Without looking at Elena, I reach for her hand, grasping it tighter than needed in case she decides to do something stupid again. You’re mine now. I glance at Elena, but even though she doesn’t meet my gaze, I can feel the heat of her anger in the way she digs her nails into my hand. Are you feeling desperate already? I can’t help but smirk as I meet her glare.

No matter how hard Elena tries to hate me, I know just how much desire is hidden behind it. She showed it to me once, and she can’t trick me again.

I remember so clearly just how quickly her shouts of fury turned into whimpers of pleasure, and how easy it was for my hands to leave her pliant and asking for more. For years, Elena had been a gray mouse growing in the shadow of her family. And despite all that, she’d had enough boldness to push me away. But after that college graduation, I was unable to look at her the same way. Her smile, her dress, her confidence, everything about her was just— Wait.

Damn it.

Why am I thinking about this again? I purse my lips, forcing myself to focus on the present, and tug her forward—too sharply, I guess, because Elena stumbles a little in her step. But when I turn to look at her, she only gives me a quick glare and straightens her posture, taking her place next to me. God, she’s so—

I refuse to finish the thought as frustration builds up in my chest. I should keep Elena out of my mind. There are way more important things that need my attention.

Thankfully, I’m not the only one aware of that. As soon as we reach the parking lot, followed by shouts of congratulations and a shower of rice, the crowd gathers around us with a mixture of Russian and Italian. There are too many people demanding my attention, but it is Louis’ grim look that finally pulls me out of the chaos.

“Should I wish you a long and happy marriage?” Louis pats my shoulder in a resemblance of actual wishes, but I only roll my eyes. He’s been my my side for as long as I can remember—he knows just how little this whole marriage means to me. Or at least, I’d like him to think so.

“Better tell me what happened.” I lower my voice and look around, noticing that our men have spread across the perimeter with their attention on the road leading to the coast. They look too tense for a calm wedding night, and I know Louis too well to not see the crease of a frown on his forehead.

He immediately switches off his teasing demeanor and clears his throat. “Someone tried to sneak into the garden from the coast. A Mexican, apparently. We spotted him before he got too close to the hotel, but he escaped before we opened fire.”

Shit. No one outside of the families was supposed to know about the ceremony—least of all, the Escarra gang.

“Our boys are all over the beach, but no one has found him yet,” Louis adds, gesturing in the direction of the ocean, and I automatically follow his gaze.

“I assume none of you recognized him,” I say matter-of-factly as my gaze drifts back to the bustling crowd of guests.

The Russians and Italians have split into groups; some of them have mixed in an attempt to find a common language, but mostly everyone sticks to their family and only glares at the others as if we were still enemies. It doesn’t surprise me—it’s gonna take a long time before they learn not to be wary of each other. What does surprise me, though, is that Elena doesn’t seem to be a part of them either.

Her white dress catches my gaze, and I find her a few feet away from her family in the company of the boy that was carrying the flowers at the ceremony. Right. Sometimes I forget about it, but Elena does have a son. I think Yuriy called him Maxim, and apparently, the boy doesn’t have a father. What a great addition to the family, huh?

My gaze lingers on them as I watch Elena crouch next to the boy and pinch his cheeks, earning a giggle. It makes her smile, too, and I suddenly realize that it’s the first time I’ve seen her smile today. It looks… pretty.

It’s pointless to deny it, really. Elena is a beautiful woman with her long blond hair, round features, plush lips, and slender figure. I can barely recognize the girl who cared about nothing but textbooks and grades. Everything about her used to be so pitiful that I couldn’t just pass her in the hallways, but now—

As if feeling my attention, Elena looks straight at me and immediately stands up, holding my gaze. There’s not a trace of a smile on her lips anymore. She protectively wraps an arm around her son’s shoulder and quirks an eyebrow with a silent question.

Why am I looking at her? Well, it’s a good time for Elena to get used to being my wife. I’m gonna keep an eye on her—but I’m not going to explain that to her now. I only hold her gaze for a second longer before lowering it to her son. God, how old is he?

Maxim is looking at me, too, but I don’t see the same defensive anger that’s oozing off his mother. He looks at me with wide eyes and parted lips. What, am I that amazing? I chuckle, and the boy smiles at me as well before Elena shushes him and tells him to turn away. But I don’t look away, not yet. There’s something about the boy that disturbs something in my mind, but I can’t quite place it. What is—

“Are you done ogling your wife already?” Louis’ voice forces me back to my senses, and I blink and turn back to him only to see a shit-eating grin on his face. Only then does the meaning of his words settle in, and I chuckle.

“At least I have someone to warm my bed tonight.”

But while Louis dramatically complains, I can’t help but steal another glance at Elena and her son. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but something doesn’t feel right.