Page 49 of Forced Mafia Bride
We belonged to each other now, and every fiber of my being ached to prove it to her in more ways than one.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
The people around us cheered loudly. I was sure I heard Anatoly whistle, and I smirked, tilting forward to lift the lacy veil away from her face. The feeling was similar to unwrapping a present, and not just any present, but one that held more value than all the others put together. Like that one fucking shining star burning brightly in the midst of more than a billion others that snatched your attention the minute you looked up.
When our eyes met, my breath caught in my throat. “Rosa….”
My voice failed. The words failed. Everything failed to conjure the best possible way I could tell her how beautiful she was.
She swept her eyes over my face, questioning and eager. When her warm gaze touched my lips, I wasted not a second more. I cupped her chin, tilted it higher, and claimed her soft lips as if they were my most prized possession.
Her eyes fluttered shut, and so did mine, and it was just us sealed in that moment of surreal perfection. She kissed me like she wanted me, and I retaliated as if she were the oxygen we both needed to survive.
“Dearly beloved gathered here today, I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Yezhov.”
Grinning from ear to ear, I broke apart, missing her mouth already as we turned around to face the crowd. The jubilation was wild, mostly with Timur and Anatoly leading the strong chants and crazy applause.
I offered her my arm, leading her down the parted aisle once hers was hooked in.
Both families were gathered for the ceremony, the Irish and Russians, seated on the left and right opposite angles of the pews, respectively. Though it was strange seeing them in one place, it symbolized the unifying of the families—Yezhov andGallagher merged now, forming one blood line. With one person leading this army—me.
Everything had unfolded according to plan. With Rosalyn, the sole surviving Gallagher heir, now mine, I had effectively acquired control of Cedric’s vast holdings. But I felt like I’d won something more than just assets and exponential influence.
I looked at her, and she smiled back at me.
I’d won her.
****
“Who played the song?”
Anatoly took the cigarette out of his mouth and pointed at my cousin, who was tapping his feet and jerking his leg backward, matching the rhythm. “Timur.”
We turned to the man with the freshly trimmed buzz cut and navy blue tuxedo. He smiled and slid a hand into his pocket, a vain attempt to stop his leg from moving. He had his head buried in his phone as he scrolled through the screen.
He shrugged. “I just stumbled on it and have been hooked ever since.”
Rosa moved her head and her feet. She glanced over her shoulder, talking to my cousin and Anatoly, who strolled behind us. “I think I’m hooked, too. The sound is good and is just…perfect. Definitely not our type of song, but…I love it. Who’s the artist?”
Timur tucked the phone into his pocket and looked up, smiling at Rosa. I barely ever saw him smile, but there he was, flashing those straight white pearls at my wife. After the two gotproperlyacquainted at a family dinner two nights ago, they just…hit it off, like a ball in the park, and had been sailing smoothly ever since.
“His name is—”
“Probably some fucking guy named Billy,” Anatoly interrupted, exhaling smoky white clouds through his nostrils.“Every fucking American with a country song has the name Billy. If it’s not his name, then someone in the patriarchy is definitely a Billy.”
Abruptly, Hannah laughed beside us and blushed when our eyes fell on her. With her cheeks as deep as scarlet, she cleared her throat and spoke to the air.
“I doubt that he’s a Billy. It’s not even a country song.”
Anatoly gave her a subtle side-eye glare and continued with his cigarette in silence, which made Rosa laugh louder than I’d ever heard.
She was cute,tryingto dance in her small silver heels with a bright smile on her face as she stepped in front of us, stretching forth her arm. To me.
Gently, I swatted her arm away. “No.”
“Come on,” she whined. “Surely, you’re not high and mighty above dancing. Timur said you were quite the stepper back in the day. Are you sure you don’t want to break some moves?”
I wondered just how much he’d told her.