Page 138 of Vicious Intentions
It was always going to come down to this—me marrying Matteo Donato.
I should have become a nun when I had the chance.
Chapter 29
Matteo
When I asked Anna to marry me, I’m sure she didn’t realize I meant that following week. If she was surprised by how quickly it all came together, she never let it show. There wasn’t time for hesitation, not for her and certainly not for me. I needed a wedding ring on her finger immediately. Giving her space to doubt, to reconsider, wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.
To anyone else, it might look like a shotgun wedding. But to us, to theCosa Nostra, this marriage needed to be made official as soon as possible. Everyone in the know understands that the moment Anna takes my last name as her own, it will send the Outfit into a spiral.
This isn’t just a ceremony. It’s a declaration. A line drawn in blood.
Machiavellian motives aside, this is still my wedding day, and I’m nervous.
St. Patrick’s Cathedral is suffocating in its grandeur. From its towering stone columns that look like rising sentinels to the stained-glass windows with images of saints casting fracturedlight on us all. Every step against the stone floor echoes so loudly that it feels almost disrespectful. Yet no one dares speak above a whisper, while the scent of incense lingers thick in the air, curling through the hushed murmurs of the guests like a warning sign.
She can still say no. Right here, at the altar. Anna can still look me in the eye and turn me down in front of everyone. And if she does… I’d have to get her out of New York before nightfall.
My own men wouldn’t hesitate to make an example of her. If she refuses to marry me today, then she no longer serves her purpose. Not in the eyes of every Don here. They would demand that I kill her and send her corpse to her father. Her death would be the thing to set this war in motion. I would rather die than ever let that happen.
I’m not sure Anna fully grasps the danger I’ve put her in. I didn’t realize it myself until it was too late. Maybe if I hadn’t given her my heart, I wouldn’t care what her answer would be.
But I did give her my heart… and so much more. Not that she knows it.
A muscle ticks in my jaw as I roll my neck, impatience crawling under my skin. The pews creak softly as the last remaining stragglers settle in, the low hum of whispered conversations rippling through the cathedral. I’m unsure whether everyone here is more excited about the wedding or what comes after. And I’m not referring to the reception.
War is coming. And this… this is meant to be the spark.
God, I hope this is the spark. I don’t even want to think about the alternative.
Still, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have a backup plan in place. If Anna says no to marrying me, I have a car waiting outside to drive her to the airport. Vincent and his entourage haven’t left my city yet, and though I haven’t found out where they are hiding, their private plane is still parked at Teterboro Airport. I’llmake an excuse to the other Dons about needing more time to persuade Anna into marrying me, and drive her to New Jersey myself. I’ll put her on the plane then and order the pilots to fly her back to Chicago. I’ll deal with the fallout of my actions after.
Though I still want New York free from the Outfit’s thumb, I won’t risk Anna’s life for it. None of this was ever meant to put her in danger. It was always about saving my city. Saving my city and making her mine.
Everything I’ve done has led to this moment. Maybe it started as revenge, but now… all I want is to finally call her my wife.
Since Anna didn’t choose a maid of honor, for obvious reasons, I also declined naming a best man. So I stand alone at the altar beside Father Benedetto, who waits to officiate the ceremony.
Niccolò and Raffaele sit beside my mother in the front pew. My mother is the only one smiling at me, her eyes glassy with tears, her hands clasped tightly in her lap in prayer. Praying that this day ends in celebration instead of bloodshed. At least she’s still in my corner. Raffaele looks like he wants to strangle me, and Niccolò doesn’t look much better.And I know why.
I don’t let myself think about why Niccolò is pissed at me on my wedding day, of all days. That shitstorm will have to wait. If he’s been able to keep his disgruntlement to himself this long, he can wait a few more hours.
As if in tune with my inner turmoil, the organist starts playing, filling the cathedral with a bright, familiar Wedding March. And as if on cue, every head turns toward the entrance.
She’s here.
The massive wooden doors groan open, coaxing light to spill in from behind her, framing her silhouette like something divine. And for a second, I forget how to breathe.
In a soft, flowing white gown, she walks toward me, ignoring everyone else in attendance. The pearl-white fabric trails behind her, catching the sunlight with each step, while her bare-shoulder Vera Wang dress clings and falls in all the right places, making her seem almost ethereal. As she walks closer to me, she looks less like a lamb before the slaughter and more like a queen. Almost as if she’s ready to replace her halo with a crown. Somehow, I’ve never felt more unworthy of her.
My chest tightens painfully as my eyes lock onto hers.
Anna looks… breathtaking. And utterly miserable.
I move before even registering it as I descend from the altar to meet her, taking her warm, tense hand in mine and leading her gently up the steps.
“Hi,” I murmur, my voice quieter than I intended.
