His Wife: A Dark Mafia Romance (Dark Sovereign Book 2)
His Wife: Chapter 6

I enter the large, high-ceiling tent. It’s like stepping into a different world. A fairy tale. Thousands of fairy lights are draped across the roof, their muted glow casting an enchanted spell into the night—like fireflies that came together to celebrate the eternal love of two people.

Round tables decorated with the champagne tablecloths and crystal vase centerpieces Mira and I selected have been perfectly arranged all around the dance floor in the middle of the tent. A soft coral carpet leads from the entryway to the wooden-deck dance floor, where an elegant arch adorned with white roses and sparkling champagne chiffon waits for Mr. and Mrs. Del Rossa to renew their wedding vows.

Gentle music plays in the background, keeping guests’ chatter calm as everyone seems to bask in the romance drifting in the air.

I greet some guests as I make my way to our table. Maximo is already seated, but like a hawk, his gaze hovers, watching over the crowd, always alert and searching for a threat. During my weeks here, Maximo and I have hardly spoken. It’s easy to see where his loyalty lies, how he dedicates every minute of his life to the Del Rossa family. The man is like a brick wall, steadfast and impenetrable, except when it comes to his sister. He’s protective of her, kind to her. I’ve never seen a man’s expression go from brutal and cruel to affectionate and kind so fast whenever Mira is around. I envy that. The bond they share. I often wonder what it would have been like if I had a sister or brother, if we’d share the same connection. But then I thank God my parents weren’t blessed with another life they could ruin. I managed to survive my dad’s depravities and my mother’s addiction, but I’m not so sure I would have if I had another person to keep out of their twisted grasps.

Caelian and Isaia walk up to the arch. It’s always weird seeing Isaia in a suit, his discomfort noticeable from a mile away. He’s been keeping his distance from me lately, which is probably a good thing considering the line he crossed when he kissed me that night after Alexius decided his brother could watch while he made me come. I suppose that’s what happens when you play with fire; someone always gets burnt. And that’s one of the reasons Alexius chose to keep the third participant in our one night of sharing a secret—a precautionary measure so no fuses could be lit between any of us.

A soft melody starts to play, and all the guests get up on their feet as Mr. Del Rossa walks down the aisle with Mira by his side. My heart aches when I see how slow his steps are, Mira’s arm hooked into his elbow, a way for her to guide him and support him as he makes his way to the arch. Every second is beautiful and emotional, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop the tears from falling.

Mr. Del Rossa joins his two sons, and Mira walks off, joining us at the table.

We glance down the aisle to where Alexius stands at his mother’s right side while Nicoli takes his place on her left. Her hands are gently slipped in the crooks of her two oldest sons’ elbows, their tall frames towering at either side of her.

Alexius replaces me, our eyes pinned as they start down the aisle. The instrumental melody of “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran starts playing, and there’s no more stopping my tears. Mrs. Del Rossa looks beautiful in the beige satin dress Mira had chosen, a soft champagne shawl placed around her shoulders. But it’s the sight of Alexius looking down at his mother. The care and devotion in his sapphire eyes are more powerful than any magic, and it takes my breath away. Alexius and Nicoli carefully guide her, holding on to her as if she might drift away if they didn’t. It’s beautiful and disarming to see such strong, powerful men unashamed to put their love for their mother on full display for the whole world to see. For the first time, I realize they aren’t just the Dark Sovereign. They are a family. They are blood, their bond stronger than all the wealth and power in the world.

I wipe at my tears as they pass, and I’m taken aback when Alexius pauses for just a moment, reaching out, cupping my cheek and placing the most tender and loving kiss on my forehead—a kiss that rippled all the way to the marrow of my bones. A kiss that held more affection than any act I’ve ever experienced. In front of all these people, during a moment laced with romance and filled with magic, Alexius stops time for a second to give me a glimpse of his heart.

There’s a tap on my shoulder, and Maximo holds out a navy blue handkerchief, which I take, carefully dabbing at my eyes and cheeks.

Both Alexius and Nicoli kiss their mother on the cheek and slip in place at her side. It’s a picture-perfect moment, two parents surrounded by their sons.

The surprise mixed with every emotion is solid on Mrs. Del Rossa’s face as she gazes at her husband, mouthing the words, ‘I love you.’

The same priest who married Alexius and me starts speaking—a whole different sermon than the one he gave at our wedding. This one isn’t about replaceing love; it’s about love standing the test of time. About a bond stronger than any hurdle life can throw at you. Like a plant, love needs to be fed and watered, taken care of and cherished. Only then will it bloom into something so beautiful that it outshines the darkness determined to tear it apart.

With every word the priest speaks, I keep my gaze on Alexius, wondering if what we share could be nourished and watered into something equally as beautiful as the love shared between their parents. Can whatever this is between us bloom into a flower we’d both dedicate our lives to protect?

Alexius meets my eyes, and like a giant wrecking ball, reality slams into me with a truth I’ve been trying to deny for weeks.

I’m falling.

I’m falling in love with Alexius Del Rossa.

ALEXIUS

My father’s using all his strength to keep steady on his feet, holding my mother’s hand in his as if it’s his most prized possession. The way he looks at her is like he’s never seen anything more beautiful.

He touches his lips to the top of her hand, and a tear slips down my mother’s face. “I have never loved you more than I do right now,” he starts, soft whimpers flowing from the guests surrounding us. “My love for you echoes from the emptiness I feel just thinking about what my life would have been without you. For thirty-five years, you have been more than just my strength. You have been the rhythm to which my heart beats every minute of every day.”

I look at Leandra and watch her dab the tears from her cheeks. While I listen to my father’s words, my mind is filled with images of us standing in front of a priest thirty-five years from now, renewing our vows like my parents just did. And I wonder what our life would be like up until that moment. Would the words pour from our hearts while our children stand beside us? Would we look back at our life and not regret a single moment? Somehow, the thought of it licks at the edges of my heart. I want that. I want that moment with her, far in the future, after a life lived together. But what trials would lead us there? How many regrets would we have after years filled with chances to make the wrong decisions? Would we love each other? Hate each other?

Would she be happy?

My parents kiss, and even though the crowd cheers, my world goes quiet. In that second, our family is frozen, all six of us standing together beneath the lights and in front of God. Many might think we’re a family with questionable morals and corrupted intentions. But when it comes to family, we have heart. We protect what is ours, and this family is ours.

Every emotion clings heavily to the air and drifts below the strings of lights. But it’s when my father takes her in his arms, hugging her and looking right at me, that I see the struggle. He’s hurting. His heart is aching because he knows his time with her has run out and that each second might be his last. My father is mourning, knowing that his path with her is about to end.

Nicoli presses his lips together as he glances at me, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing. We’re feeling the loss to come, the grief already nipping at our chests. This wasn’t just a renewal of their vows. This was goodbye.

Music starts to play, and Caelian and Isaia carry the arch from the dance floor while Nicoli and I walk to join Leandra and Mira at our table.

I take Leandra’s hand without thinking, without doing it intentionally, and pull her closer to my side. Her familiar presence and the scent of her perfume are comforting, calming. It pacifies the fear of knowing my father could be snatched away from us at any given moment, and it makes me want to clutch her tighter, to never let her go. With every squeeze of her hand, I draw strength from her, and my heart expands, filling my chest to the brim. Just looking into the depths of her eyes makes me want to forget about everything else. My father’s illness. How I’d support my mother when he’s gone. The murders. The clubs. Everything. I want to forget everything and just…be with her.

The next song starts to play, “Yours” by Russel Dickerson, and my mom waves for us to join them. With a smile, Leandra agrees, and I lead her onto the dance floor, catching a glimpse of Nicoli walking out while Mira stares after him with longing in her eyes. He’s such a fucking jackass.

Leandra’s palm touches my cheek, and I look at her, only her, and I realize I want it to be her always. Forever.

She places her arm around my neck as I settle mine on her waist, pulling her close, needing to feel her against me, our bodies slowly moving in the rhythm of the music. “Your parents found something that most people search a lifetime for,” she says, her lips touched with a tempting glisten.

“Maybe some people replace it without knowing and end up letting it go.”

Long, beautiful lashes bat, brushing the top of her cheeks. “Because they don’t open their hearts, thinking love is nothing but a weakness.”

“And yours?” I ask, slowly drifting within the romance that’s bewitched everyone around us.

She bites her bottom lip. “My heart is open.”

“Even if the chance of you getting hurt is high?”

“Even then. There are so many reasons love could pass me by, but fear won’t be one of them.”

Her words penetrate deep into my soul, and the shiver that travels through my veins has me feeling like I’m only waking up now, alive for the first time. As if my life is progressing to something more than just money, power, and meaningless sex. It’s so much more with her this close to me, and it’s clear as fucking daylight. I want her. I want Leandra to be more than just the wife at my side with a pretty face and a willing body. I want her to be mine in every sense of the word. Mine, and only mine.

My hands slowly slide down her back, feeling the curve of every vertebra beneath my hungry fingertips. The subtle rush of air from her lips as I press her hips to mine makes me want to hear her moan and whimper, coming undone beneath my touch. I can feel the heat of her skin, see the delicate vein in her neck pulse to the rhythm of her racing heartbeat. She’s trembling against me, her eyes hungry and pleading.

I lean down, tracing my lips along the outline of her beautiful face until I feel her warm breath on my cheek. Finally, our lips meet, and I kiss her as if she could break, as if our kiss is fragile. Gentle. Slow. Easy. Powerful. My tongue begs for entrance, which she grants with a slight parting of her lips. She tastes like expensive champagne and sin, her body fitting mine perfectly as if she’s the angel made especially for the devil.

The song stops, and I inch back, our lips barely touching. “You’re moving into my bedroom. Tonight.”