Lahat ng Kabanata ng You're mine, brother.: Kabanata 151 - Kabanata 155

Levi pov“You’re with him on this?” I stared in disbelief as my mother stepped into view, a small box held carefully in her hands. “He said no when I asked him!”She gave me a calm, almost gentle look.“That’s understandable. But it’s because he wanted to be the one to propose.”“You’re my mother.”“Hey,” Lorenzo cut in from where he was still kneeling, “she’s also my mother now.”I shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. He only smiled that infuriating, half-lopsided smile that had somehow become the center of my entire world. My mother ignored the exchange completely and nodded toward him with quiet authority.“Come on, Levi. Don’t keep the gentleman on his knees.”“Oh, he’s going to stay on his knees until I change my mind,” I said flatly. My arms were still crossed, but my fingers had started to dig into my own biceps. “Besides… I don’t like any of the rings.”That was a lie and we both knew it.“How about this one?” Lorenzo’s expression shifted, he reached toward my mother. S

Lorenzo’s pov. “You do realize how dangerous it is for the wedding you’re planning?”Those were the first words out of my father’s mouth the second I stepped through the heavy oak doors of his house. No greeting. No pretense of warmth. Just that low, measured voice cutting through the silence of the entrance hall like he’d been waiting for me to walk into the trap.I wasn’t even surprised. Of course he was still keeping tabs on me. The man had eyes everywhere—old contacts, private investigators, people who owed him favors from decades of carefully accumulated power. The fact that he already knew about the wedding only confirmed what I’d always suspected: privacy was a polite fiction where he was concerned.“Not really,” I said, closing the door behind me. The air inside smelled the same as it always had—old wood, expensive cigars, and the faint metallic edge of money that never quite left these walls. “It’s going to be small. Just us. Fully guarded.”“Us?” He leaned back in the lea

Shit, I’m getting married! What the fuck? If anyone had told me—even six months ago—that I, Lorenzo King, would fall for someone hard enough to end up standing at an altar in a tailored black suit waiting for a husband, I probably would have gunned them down and spit on the corpse for good measure. Love was a liability. Marriage was a contract with too many emotional clauses. I had built an entire life on the principle that neither was worth the risk. And yet. Ttanding at the fucking altar, waiting for my husband. Whom his mother had refused to let me see for two days now. I looked around for my best friend and he was nowhere to be found, disappointment filled me immediately. Father must have probably talked him out of coming. The door pushed open and oh my fucking God. There’s my husband! His man is sexy! Walking hands in hands with his mom. He wore a fitted white dress shirt beneath an ivory corset-style vest that sculpted his torso to perfection. Gold piping traced the