Page 133 of Mafia Obsession

He stares down at me. “Christ, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

As the dress, hair, and makeup are all his doing, I’m not sure what credit I can take.

“Thank you,” I say anyway.

Getting closer, he whispers, “Are you angry I did it this way?”

“An earlier heads-up, and not just in a text, would have been nice.”

“I didn’t want you to stress over the planning.” He lifts my hand with the engagement ring. “I picked out the wedding rings, too.”

Of course, he did.

“Are Atlas and Ambrose here?” I glance over his shoulder.

“Yes. Ambrose would like to walk you down the aisle.”

My heart swells at that. “I’d love that.”

When I look away for a moment, he brings my face back. “I’m sorry your sister couldn’t be here. I sent word to every house about this wedding. Including the Bratva. I am claiming you as mine, Lourdes. And that means your sister is mine, too. Still, I couldn’t risk her being here.”

I nod. “I understand. This isallto keep her safe.”

“No,” he cuts me off. “I’m marrying you because I want you to be mine. I don’t usually take it this far, but I… I don’t want anyone else.”

Again, he doesn’t say he loves me. Just that I’m his, and it’s confusing. Maybe that will come later.

“I don’t want anyone else either.” I run a hand down the silk of my gown. “I can’t believe you got the hottest designer tomake me this dress. It must have cost a small fortune.”

“Money doesn’t matter. I wanted you to have what other women are waiting for. What other women want.”

I stare up at the most gorgeous man on this earth, and think I already have what other women want.

The ceremony is a blurry haze of vows and candles and a kiss by Ares that I don’t think I’ll ever get over.

The reception, which may have been an afterthought, since Ares just wanted to be married, is in a heated tent behind the church. I can picture Shea arguing with him that he had to provide something to the guests.

There’s no music, no dance floor, just champagne and small plates of food.

But Ares introduces me to every person there. I recognize the names. Mostly business associates. And no one named Volkov or Scava. No other Quinlans either.

His own sister wasn’t here. Maybe Ares was afraid she would bring a knife and accidentally stab someone.

Ninety minutes later, the final guest departs, Ares reaches for my hand, threading his fingers through mine.

“Let’s go home, Mrs. Zervas.”

Chapter 54

Ares

Lourdes is still holding her bouquet as I carry her as my wife over the threshold, and when we enter our bedroom, I kick the door shut behind us.

Our lips never break contact. I love her hot mouth. She tastes sweet and kisses me with a swirling tongue like no one ever has. Every time our lips touch, I go insane.

“I can’t believe we’re actually married,” she pants.

“Believe it. You’re my wife.” I lower her to her feet and carefully remove her veil.