Page 7 of Reaper’s Wrath

“Definitely not, though Mazzi might prefer I wear one. If it were up to him, the wedding would be the event of the century with the entire city invited.” I shudder for effect.

“He wants to be a big deal, does he?” Rina raises a brow.

“With every fiber of his being.”

We both cringe, and she downs her entire mimosa.

“I’m going to need a refill.”

I chuckle at my best friend’s dramatics, so grateful I have her with me. This marriage is my choice, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. I appreciate her support more than she’ll ever know.

We spend half an hour selecting dresses while the clerk pulls the gowns from the back for me to try on. The shop is a small boutique with ready-made dresses. We didn’t have the time, nor did I have the inclination, for a custom wedding gown. Instead, I chose a cute, locally-owned place to keep things as simple as possible.

The dressing room area is almost as big as the showroom, with curtained-off changing rooms surrounding a cozy sitting area with an ivory tufted sofa and two chairs. Across from the sofa, like a mini performance hall, is a stagelike setting with a raised platform and three huge mirrors.

I inhale slowly and steadily.

This is really happening.

“You ladies have everything you need?” asks the shop clerk who has been helping us.

“I think so.” I force a smile.

“Actually, I could use a restroom,” Terina adds. “Those mimosas went straight through me.”

“No problem—you’ll have to pop around to the front, around the other side of the sales desk.”

“Perfect.” Rina turns her attention to me. “Wait for me to get back before you come out. I want to see every dress, understood?”

I give her a salute. “Sir, yes, sir.”

“Remember that,” she mutters playfully over her shoulder.

I giggle and close myself off inside the curtained cubicle. Once I’m down to my panties, I pick a dress and step into it, goose bumps forming on my arms as the soft satin slides up my legs. I don’t zip it yet. I’m too transfixed on my reflection to move.

Me. In a wedding gown.

It’s a sight I never thought I’d see, and I don’t know how to process it.

I twist a tiny bit to see the back and get a glimpse of a face peeking through the curtains behind me. Not just any face. DiAngelo.

I gasp and spin to face him.

Our gazes lock as my pulse begins to thunder in my ears.

CHAPTER 4

ELIO

I followed Isa to the bridal boutique with no intention of going in because it didn’t serve any purpose. Hell, me being here at all is a bad idea. I told myself I was watching her house yet again because it would be wise to stay informed on such a crucial part of the Italian alliance.

It’s bullshit. I know that, but at this stage, any scrap of justification serves as a reasonable rationale for seeing Isa. Once I see their destination, I have to go inside and try to get a glimpse of her.

Will she look as angelic in a white gown as I imagined she would all those years ago?

Whether she does or not, am I willing to allow some other man to own that? To see her walking down that aisle toward him?

The rage roaring in my head screams a resounding no.