I glanced from him in his black three-piece suit to the white dress lying over the back of the couch. A cool rush of unease drifted through my body, but there was something else intertwined. A warm kernel of pleasure, of relief, expanding like a balloon. I didn’t realize that living with this man unmarried had bothered me until now—and it wasn’t because of what it would do to my reputation. As much as I loved the freedoms such a liberal world provided for others, my heart bled for the Cosa Nostra, for everything romantic, and for the structured walls of tradition. Also, the idea that he would grow bored and decide not to marry me had been a cold whistle of alarm in my blood.

I wanted to be married, to have a husband of my own, but the sunny, white picket fence dream I’d always envisioned would be marred by the shadows of other women. I couldn’t share. Not this man. The idea made me feel sick to my stomach, cut my breaths in half, sent an ache radiating through my chest.

“Why did you kill Oscar Perez?” I blurted.

Nico stood with his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the island. His gaze was as calm and deep as the sea. “Because you were mine.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I didn’t think he would lie about the question, but I did believe he’d evade it. I suddenly knew that this throb in my heart would be worse than any physical pain Oscar could have inflicted upon me.

“Maybe you screwed fate.” My voice was a whisper as I stared at the white summer dress on the couch.

I didn’t look at him, but I didn’t have to, to know that my words struck a nerve. The heat of his stare burned my cheek.

“There is no such thing as fate,” he snapped. “And even if there were, the last thing anyone would ever do is pair you with Oscar Perez.”

“The Fates would pair me with you? You’re no saint.”

“Do you want a saint, Elena?”

No, I want you. But I don’t want the heartache you’ll bring along.

“Nico, we don’t know each other . . . I don’t even know your middle name.”

“Angelo. Now, go upstairs and get ready. We leave in an hour.”

I didn’t move. “I’ve already picked out my dress, Nico . . . it’s perfect.” I sounded like a frivolous girl, but that’s who I was. He should know what he was signing up for. I wondered how he’d gotten a marriage license without me, but realized it was probably the easiest of illegal things he’d done.

“I want my wedding,” I said firmly.

“You sure you want two ceremonies with me? Looks like you can hardly stomach the first.” His tone seeped with irritation as he pulled out his phone to reply to a text.

“No, I’d prefer one. Next weekend. I’m not going anywhere today.” I turned around but didn’t make it up three stairs before an arm wrapped around my waist and my feet left the floor.

“We’re getting married today, Elena. Not tomorrow, not fucking next weekend. Today.”

My back was pressed to his front, my toes skimming the floor. This wasn’t exactly how I imagined a man would profess his desire to marry me; in fact, it was kind of rude and totalitarian.

I tried to fight my way out of his grip. I did it just so I could see how I couldn’t get away.

“Let me go, Nico.” Hold me tighter.

“You gonna take this dress upstairs and put it on?”

“You want a virgin,” I protested. “You chose Adriana over me.” I tried to pull his arm off me, but it was like trying to pry steel.

His laugh rumbled down my back. “Is that what you think? That I chose your weird sister over you?”

My teeth gritted as he dropped me to my feet. “She’s not weird.”

“Your papà told me you were unfit for marriage. I didn’t pick between the two of you.”

Soaking that in, my chest grew lighter. I turned to face him and met his gaze. It looked like he wanted to fuck me into my place and was barely holding himself back. A shiver coasted through me.

I fingered the hem of my t-shirt. “I want my wedding, Nico.”

His rough palm brushed my face. “Then it’s yours. But you’ll be Elena Russo today, no later.”

Pressing my cheek against his hand, I whispered, “Elena Russo.”

It tasted like hope and happiness. But as the words faded from existence, the slightest aftertaste of heartbreak remained.

Honking, the shouts of someone arguing with a cab driver, and the bustle of the Bronx’s Grand Concourse converged into white noise in my mind. My pulse beat in my throat as we walked toward the Supreme Court Building. As we reached the doors, I turned around. Nico grabbed my clammy hand with a quiet chuckle and pulled me inside. I didn’t miss Luca’s eye roll. He was our witness, but I thought I’d prefer the homeless man we passed a block over.

We didn’t have to wait. A receptionist with a blond chignon walked us to where we needed to be, and by the uneasy, flighty air about her, she knew who we were. I wondered how much Nico had paid the City of New York to get such service on a busy Tuesday afternoon. Or maybe he hadn’t needed to fork over a dime. He was King of the Cosa Nostra.

My rapid heartbeats counted the ceremony from start to finish. I remembered the gurgle of the judge’s words, the cold sweat encasing my body, and Nico. His presence and the light scent of his cologne consumed me in familiarity and broke through the thumping mantra of my pulse.

“I do.” The two words were spoken by a don, but his gaze burned like warm vanilla whiskey. And then he promised to love, honor, cherish and protect me, forsaking all others and holding onto only me. By the way he’d said it, you’d almost believe him.

I repeated the words as I was told to, and then the exchange of rings came. I stared at the fifty-cent ring already on my left hand. It was much cheaper than the one Nico had told me was his mamma’s on the drive over. The room’s awkward silence touched my skin. The judge cleared his throat. Luca looked at his watch. I wore the ring on my middle finger, but it looked like Nico was going to stand here and make a scene until I removed it, so I pulled it off and put it on my right hand. Nico slipped his mamma’s on my finger, echoing the judge’s words.

He loved his mamma. My heartbeats latched onto the thought, flipping, turning, and burning it into my skin.

I kissed him on the lips. Soft and sweet and heartbreaking.

And then I was Mrs. Nicolas Russo.

Outside, New York sun shined bright, like fiery rays in a cloudless sky.

“You did good,” Luca drawled. “Only made the judge think we’d kidnapped you a couple different times.”

I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. The nerves still vibrated in my veins and were slowly replaced with a heady rush of relief. Nico stepped in front of me, and my gaze lifted to his. It felt like I’d been twisted inside out in the past twenty minutes, but now, in the middle of my city with this man next to me, it felt like I’d broken a finish line ribbon.

“Nico, what if the Three Fates were real and I’d been destined for another?”

He slipped his hands into his pockets, his gaze igniting with a spark. “I guess I’d have to find those Fates and burn them to the ground.”

I bit my cheek to hold in a smile and gave my head a small shake. “You’re crazy.”