Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
I tugged her toward my chest, and a surprised gasp escaped her lips. Leaning into her ear, I didn’t hesitate. Through a clenched jaw, I gritted out the reality of our marriage…
“You’ll be my wife. I’ll be your husband. By law. In the eyes of the Lord. Our holy union will be real. So don’t for one second think our vows will be lies and won’t mean anything. Especially, to me.”
Chapter 20
—Cruz—
She growled, trying to shove me away but I didn’t waver. I held onto her much tighter instead, proving who was in charge. She answered to me.
Not the other way around.
Except, Sienna didn’t want my compassion.
Understanding.
Truths.
I was the villain.
Her enemy.
Nothing more, nothing less.
I’d be lying if I said her blatant disdain toward me wasn’t conjuring up a war with my already thin line of patience when it came to her. Not to mention my temper. She was baiting a reaction out of me, and she wouldn’t like my response. My tolerance for her fucking temper tantrums could only go so far.
If I allowed her to continue her blatant disrespect in front of all these people, I couldn’t imagine how she’d think to treat me behind closed doors. I’d put an end to it here. Belittling me wasn’t something I’d take calmly. My short fuse was already flickering to light this church on fire, if she didn’t change her attitude real fucking quick.
Her gaze snapped away from mine, staring at the cross that hung high behind the priest at the front of the altar. I knew what she was doing, but even Jesus couldn’t save her from me.
For the next hour we had our traditional Italian wedding ceremony. My stubborn bride kept her concentrated stare on the minister, her regard forward, her body tense, never once glancing my way. Acting like I was of no importance. Merely fueling my uncontrollable craze, burning a hole in the floor beneath me. Each prayer from the priest only added to the tension I’d felt in my core, throbbing through my veins, unleashing the side of me she didn’t want to meet.
At least not so soon.
“Sienna, your groom wanted to light a candle for your mother before we proceed to the vows.”
She jerked back, surprised by what the pastor shared. “Why?”
“I want her blessing.”
Right when the statement left my mouth, her eyes finally locked with mine.
“Why would you care?” she questioned in a low voice I could only hear. “You don’t care for my consent.”
“Yet here we are.”
“And you think you’ve won.”
“I don’t think. I know. You’re about to become mine.”
“On paper.”
“Yeah, until tonight.”
She glared at me, clenching her jaw.
The priest once again cleared his throat, continuing on with the candle lighting. By the time he got to the vows, her mood was worse.
“Crucifixio, please repeat after me.”
I didn’t need to repeat after anyone, I knew what I wanted. Before he began, I gripped onto her chin and made her look me in the eyes.
Vowing, “I, Crucifixio Martinez, take thee, Sienna Luciano, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.”
Meaning every last word, whether she wanted to hear it or not.
—Sienna—
I was going to pass out.
I can’t do this! I can’t do this! I can’t do this!
Internally freaking the hell out, I couldn’t go through with this.
If I ran would he catch me? If I screamed would anyone care? If I prayed…would God listen and take me away from here?
From the moment I stepped into the church it was one thing after another.
The guests in attendance, some I recognized, others I didn’t.
All my family and friends.
La Famiglia.
The security guards.
Politicians.
The press.
Snap. Snap. Snap. The photographers clicked. If the videographer placed his camera in my face one more fucking time, I was going to break it.
Why would I want footage of a day I wanted nothing more than to forget?
This lavish ceremony must have cost my father a small fortune. I thought my sweet sixteen and graduation parties were extravagant, they didn’t hold a spot next to this ordeal.
What. The. Fuck.
Based off the last hour of my life, I knew the reception would be an abundance of wealth and power I never asked for. I was overwhelmed by the crowd. I was being smothered by my father and the La Famiglia, choking on my fiancé’s vows.
And now…
I was up. It was my turn to repeat them back to him, when all I wanted to do was bash his face in.
I. Hate. Him.
I’m pretty sure I blacked out when he started his declaration of lies-upon-lies which were meant to be sacred.
How was this happening?
“Sienna, please repeat after me,” the priest announced.
I tried to yank my chin out of Cruz’s grasp, but the son of a bitch slid his hand to the back of my neck. Locking me in place.