Oh boy! Quinn might not blame Dante for what he's done, but it definitely didn't do him any favors. What happens if he sees his cousin and his fiancee's bodyguard as a rival for her attention, even if he didn't want it in the first place?
The week is a blur of activity. Between having to supervise packing my stuff and getting it to Dante’s house, preparing for the merger at work, and this damn wedding, I barely have time to think. It’s exhausting. Grayson and Emily really are godsends during this time. Emily is able to handle all the minutiae that goes with planning a wedding. I’m sure that some women find this to be an enjoyable process, but they also have more than a week to figure it out. Em knows my style, having been my best friend since kindergarten. Plus, she has impeccable taste. I trust her to make those decisions while I handle something that I actually care about, like the family business. Grayson hires movers, organizers, style experts, and anything else that I need to get things together for my move to Dante’s home. There is an interior designer sent by Dante’s family to help me design my room and get everything moved over while we are away on our honeymoon. God, that’s the last thing that I w
I stay away from my “bridesmaids” for the rest of the day as much as I possibly can. I’m pretty done with them and they seem to get that energy off of me. It also isn’t my most favorite day in the entire world. Instead, I stay off to the side with Emily for the rest of the day. Emilia, Dante’s mom, comes over and speaks several times, but she keeps getting pulled away for her own treatments and procedures with the aunts and other matriarchs of the family. Honestly, thank God. I just can’t pretend to be nice right now. I’m going to have to pretend to be nice and happy in front of several hundred people for the rest of the day. I can’t fake being nice right now. “Are you sure that there’s nothing that you can do to stop this?” Emily asks me after the second time Emilia comes over. I’m in the middle of getting my hair done and she was kind enough to bring a glass of champagne. She had no idea that Emily hasn’t let me see the bottom of my glass for the past hour. Good t
The ceremony is the longest hour of my entire life. I’m not a particularly religious person and it is hilarious to me that a mafia family that I know for a fact has killed, tortured, and extorted people insists on a mass in the ceremony. We have communion, light a unity candle, and are prayed over while kneeling in front of the priest. It’s the weirdest sensation to complete religious sacraments while having a murderer sitting beside you. As the ceremony starts to come to the end, Dante leans over to me. He actually looks kind of nervous about whatever it is he’s about to say. “So, how do you want to do this kiss thing?” I scoff under my breath. “What, do you need lessons? I thought that you were some kind of playboy. You so busy getting your knob polished that you never kissed a girl?” “You know what? You’re gonna get what you get and have to deal with it,” Dante mutters. I have the feeling that I have him cowed enough that he isn’t going to do anything too dramatic
Anyone who has ever been married or been in a wedding will tell you that the pictures take for freaking ever. Thank God in heaven that Emily had arranged with the caterer beforehand to make sure that some of the food from the cocktail hour to the picture session. I had only had some of the food from the spa today and I was starving. Of course, I made her promise that she would get enough food for everyone. I may hate that this is what’s happening to my life, but I’m not a complete bitch. People need to eat. And I don’t want to have to deal with a whole bunch of drunk assholes at the reception. We do all kinds of photos and combinations. Me plus bridesmaids. Me plus Emily and Grayson. Me plus the groomsmen. Me plus my family. Just me. Shit a lot of just me. And then it’s pictures of me with the Lucianos. His whole family. Just his parents. Only his siblings. That one was weird. I was literally just introduced to Dante’s brother Rocco and his sister Bianca is a bit
The ride to the Tavern on the Green is interesting, to say the least. I had tried to get Emily and Grayson, or my brother, or hell even my father to ride in the car with us, but Dante had insisted that we needed to be by ourselves. “We need to make people think that we’re deeply in love, wifey. A typical married couple would be fucking in the backseat on the way to the reception. We should at least show up without anyone else in the car,” Dante whispers into my ear. I can’t help but scoff. “Not everyone has as much trouble as you do keeping it in their pants.” Though I can’t stop the heat that starts to collect in my thong at the thought. He chuckles in my ear. “I’m not as much of a manwhore as you make me out to be. Though I wouldn’t mind helping you become a little less prudish.” HIs hand skates down my low back and over my ass, where he squeezes, bending down to kiss my neck. “Christ, are you even wearing panties?” I try hard to move out of his arms, but his hand qu
The ride to the reception is long and tense. Dante keeps looking over at me and opening his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but then he just shakes his head and closes it. This is helped by the fact that I insisted that Emily ride in the car with us. I could justify wanting her to be there to help me with make-up and hair without raising too many eyebrows. Once we pull up to the restaurant, Dante asks, “Emily could you give us a moment? I really need to talk to Quinn for a second.” Emily eyes me, trying to figure out what I want. She’ll do whatever, but she needs direction. Dante seems to sense this and adds, “I won’t try anything, but we need to talk.” I sigh, but give Emily a nod. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, kids,” she says, smirking as she climbs out of the car. “Doesn’t leave a whole lot,” I mumble and hear a soft snort of laughter from Dante beside me. When Emily closes the door, I turn to Dante in the back of the limo and cross my arms. “What? We h
Walking into the reception, we are announced by the singer of the live band and brought over to a sweetheart’s table at a central point on the floor. We’re greeted with loud applause and cheers and ushered to our table by wait staff. They pass out the food soon after we are seated. The menu that we picked was flawless. A plated four course feast. We started with a grilled baby octopus served with orzo, sundried tomatoes, feta cheese, kalamata olives, and a lemon vinaigrette. That was followed by my personal favorite, a honey-roasted fig salad. The main course was a braised beef with a wild mushroom sauce. My mouth waters just thinking about it. Too bad that I barely tasted anything. Because my new husband couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of me. He pulled my chair so that I was snuggled up against him, his arm slung possessively over my shoulder. Whispering into my hair, Dante says, “Do you have any idea how hard I am right now, cara mia (my dear)?” His hands rub up a
I can admit that I am rarely at a loss for words. I have to be able to hold my own in a boardroom, a catty socialite circle, and with the media. It’s a skill that I have cultivated over a long time. But at the scene in front of me, I can’t find any words, not even to make my presence known. I see Dante say something to the woman on the floor, but all I hear is a dull ringing in my ears. When she leans forward, I find the ability to move and back out of the room. I walk down the hallway, not really seeing where I am going. It isn’t until arms wrap around me and a hand tilts my chin up to a familiar face that my surroundings come back into focus. “Q! Talk to me, love. Are you ok?” It’s Grayson. “No,” I say simply. There’s nothing else that I can say. Grayson looks around, finding one of the employees. “Take us some place where she can sit down.” I hear a murmured “Of course, sir.” We’re led down some back hallways and eventually make our way to the manager’s office. It’s