The New Groom

Chapter 2

“De Luca.” The voice of old Rossi was shaking in a lethal combination of anger and incredulity as his silver pistol pointed from my father to the man coming down the aisle. “What the fuck are you doing here? This is Rossi’s business.”

“It used to be, until your heir got a bullet in his head while standing on holy ground,” said Dante calmly, not even bothering to look at the gun pointing at his chest.

He kept going until he stood right in front of the altar. Standing over six feet tall and radiating sheer power and authority, Dante dominated every bit of space in that cathedral. His dark eyes ignored all the armed men, frightened women, a bloody corpse, looking straight into my eyes.

I remained kneeling there, gasping in short, ragged breaths. The wet fabric of my veil stuck to my face, drenched in Julian’s blood.

“You think you could just show up here after my son’s execution?” Rossi snarled, advancing toward him. “The Morettis were behind this! They hired the gunman!”

“Don’t act like an idiot, you old fool,” Dante interrupted in a tone that was calm and utterly final. “If the Morettis had any intention of Julian dying, they would not have brought him to the church surrounded by all of your guards. They’re brutal, but they are not suicidal.”

My uncle advanced as well, his fingers squeezing the hilt of his gun. “Mind your tongue, De Luca. We don’t need your arguments.”

Dante gave my uncle one brief glance, an expression of cold and utter dismissal making me shudder. “You need a whole lot more than my arguments. Look around.”

Dante lifted a hand, twirling his fingers in a relaxed gesture.

Before anybody could figure out what it was about, the tall stained glass windows of the cathedral walls exploded inwards. Ice fell from the glass shards, and almost immediately after that, came the metallic sound of heavily armored individuals landing with ropes in their hands. Three seconds later, there were twelve armed men dressed in black in the vicinity, all rifles locked and aimed at the chamber.

There were gasps and screams echoing from the walls. My mom pulled back, holding my uncle’s arm in terror.

“You’re surrounded,” said Dante calmly as he walked around the body of Julian and stood right before me. “It’ll only take news of the death of Julian Rossi at a Moretti wedding before the whole city erupts into violence. The lieutenants from the Rossi side outside have been making their move. And the news has started to spread. It won’t be long before all the syndicates in this state declare war on us.”

A sense of choking engulfed my body. A setup. Someone not only murdered Julian. They made sure to set up my family and instigate an open war.

“We can wage our own wars,” my uncle growled, though he stumbled when he saw the lasers dotting on every Moretti soldier in the room.

“You won’t live to see the day,” Dante whispered. He did not look at my uncle. His eyes looked down at me, hard, intense, and unreadable. “And neither will your niece. Do you know which way the second sniper rifle was pointing, Serafina?”

I felt my skin shiver from the fear and horror. “What?”

“The second gunner was not trying to shoot the Rossi boy,” Dante whispered, taking one slow step forward to stand near me in the pool of my own blood. “He waited until everything was quiet enough to shoot you as well. My guys cleared the east roof three minutes before I entered those doors.”

It felt like I had just fallen into an abyss. I was meant to die.

Fright, sharp and nauseating, filled my body. Why? Why kill Julian and me? Why wipe out two blood lines in a single day?

“Why are you saying all of this?” I rasped, struggling to look up at him. “You’re one of the De Luca family. You have despised mine ever since I was just a baby. So why should it matter whether or not we live?”

“Because the war between the Moretti family and the Rossi family is throwing my city into chaos,” Dante replied smoothly. “And because I won’t stand back while other men kill something that belongs to me.”

“She’s not yours!” Rossi screamed, pointing his gun again. “She was married to the Rossi name!”

Dante looked at him out of the corner of his eye, his dark eyes boring holes into the old man’s skull with deadly quiet. “Julian is dead. The alliance is dead. Unless…”

Dante paused and allowed the silence to linger, until the air of the church became choking.

“Unless what?” Uncle demanded, and desperation showed through his stern facade.

Dante looked down at me again. The merciless, fearsome Mafia King knelt on one knee, stooping to my level amidst the gore and shattered glass.

His concern about the staining of his pristine black suit was minimal. He reached out and, with his long, gloved hand, delicately snatched up the torn lacy veil and tossed it off to reveal my pale face streaked with blood.

His touch was unexpectedly gentle and formed a sharp contrast with the coldness of his murdering demeanor.

“Unless the bride still gets married,” Dante whispered, and his voice was heard by me and the nearby men alone.

My heart pounded in my chest. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that the Morettis need a protector, Serafina. Right now your uncle has a target on his back, and your estate is surrounded by armed men ready to make sure your bloodline goes extinct.”

Air froze in my lungs. Home. My brother… Everything my family was…surrounded?

“Liar,” I choked, the sound of fear building inside me like acid in my throat.

“Call your guard at the front gates,” Dante suggested casually, keeping his eyes locked on mine. “Maybe one of them will be man enough to answer.”

My uncle reached into his pocket, pressing buttons on the phone frantically as he brought it to his ear. Time crawled forward. One second. Two seconds. Three. His face paled as his hand fell limply to his side.

It was already too late.

Desperation, weighing down like a thousand pounds, crushed in on me. We had no other way out. If we left these doors the way we were, my family would be dead before sunset.

Dante fished into his inner pocket. He didn’t bring a gun out. He produced the beautiful ring.

“A marriage between us and the De Luca family would immediately terminate your family’s claim,” Dante informed me, his dark eyes locking with mine. “No one ever lays hands on my De Luca wife. No one ever starts a war against my family without bringing their empire down.”

“Why?” I cried, the tears finally streaming from my eyes, mingling with the dried blood on my cheeks. “Why would you do such a thing for us? What could you possibly get out of saving the daughter of your enemy?”

Dante didn’t respond to the question. His expressionless face gave nothing away, yet there was a dark protectiveness that flashed in the depths of his eyes. A darkness that sent shivers straight down my spine.

He reached out with his bare hand, palm up, hovering over the pool of blood on the white marble floor.

“Marry me.”