Page 18 of Reaper’s Wrath

In no possible dimension is Mazzi Antonelli the man of my dreams. I give my head a little shake and try to coax myself back to sanity.

The clack of approaching footsteps draws my attention to the door just as DiAngelo rounds the corner.

My heart stops.

He’s in a black-on-black suit, but that’s not what has my lungs in a vise. It’s the untamed chaos in his eyes—the stare he pins me with when no one is looking. It’s back and holding me captive in its grip.

“Ladies, I’d like a moment alone with the bride.” His dark command sends a shiver down my spine.

The girls scurry out of the room, leaving the two of us alone.

CHAPTER 10

ELIO

I shouldn’t be here. It’s extremely risky and idiotic beyond words, but that’s what I get for waiting until the last minute to make up my mind. If I want to stop Isa from marrying Antonelli, this is the only way.

I’ve come to realize I don’t merely want to stop the wedding. I physically can’t tolerate the prospect of Isa belonging to another man. Not after seeing her again. The scent and feel and sound of her have thawed a dormant longing deep inside me that I’d thought dead. And now that it’s awake, I don’t know how to silence it. The constant sensation of ants crawling under my skin won’t subside until I put this wedding to a stop.

What comes after, I have no fucking clue.

I’ll figure that out later, once we’re far from here, and I can hear myself think again.

Isa gives me a full view of her bridal ensemble when she rises to her feet, rendering me speechless. Sparkling sky-blue eyes wide, waving hair of spun gold softly draped over her shoulders, and a natural rose shade on her lips make it easy to confuse her for a fallen angel. Her soft, feminine features have always marked her as a natural beauty. The white gown and dewy glow gracing her skin make the finished look breathtaking.

Drawn closer like a moon pulled into orbit, I cross to her and hold out my hand. Without hesitation, her fingers come to rest against mine. I raise our hands to guide her into a turn.

She obliges, crimson staining her cheeks.

I drink in every inch of her. “Kardia mou,” I breathe to myself, realizing I never stood a chance.

“What?”

Her confusion brings me crashing back to reality. If I don’t get us the fuck out of here, I’ll end up dead, and all of this will have been for nothing.

“We have a problem,” I tell her, leading her to the door.

“What’s happened?”

“I need to get you out of here.” My eyes fall inadvertently to her lips. It’s only a split second, but it’s enough for her to dig her heels in.

“No, D. What’s going on? This isn’t because of us, is it? Because I’d never do that to Terina, you know that, right?” The slap of her reminder sparks a flare of anger in my blood. I’m over here having religious moments and spouting poetry while she still thinks I’m my brother.

I’m such a fucking idiot.

I chide myself for wasting time while voices sound in the distance.

Teeth gritted, I open the door and level her with the full strength of my stare. “This has nothing to do with us—it’s not safe here. We need to go, now.”

I take a quick peek in the hall, then launch us toward the back exit, overcome with relief when her hand squeezes mine as she scurries behind me.

CHAPTER 11

ISA

Life in the Mafia is the only life I’ve ever known. As in any culture, some rules are more bendable than others. Lineage, for instance. In modern America, no one is doing DNA tests to make sure a new soldier is full-blooded Italian. Things are more diverse than they used to be. The Families have adapted.

On the opposite end of that spectrum is “thou shalt not talk to the authorities.” Ever. I learned as a child that we don’t even give the time of day to anyone remotely associated with law enforcement. That universal commandment can never be broken.