by Bethany-Kris
“No way. I’ll be as big as a house.”
Mac opened his mouth to say something, but before he could a loud chiming interrupted him.
“Excuse me. May I have your attention please?”
Mac’s best man, Bobby stood up in the middle of the ballroom floor, a glass in his hand.
“Thank you,” he continued once the room became quiet. “I almost can’t believe it. Mac finally found someone crazy enough to put up with his arrogant ass.”
The room erupted into laughter and Mac pointed a finger at Bobby, a mock scowl on his face.
“No, but seriously, I’ve known Mac since we were kids and he’s a good man. I’m glad that he’s finally found someone to share his life with. Melina, I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into. You’re in for a wild ride. Saluti.”
Bobby raised his glass and around them all the others did the same.
“All right. Now let’s party,” Bobby said.
He made a motion toward the DJ and the sounds of music filled the air.
“It’s time for us to wow the crowd, Melina.”
As Mac led her to the dance floor, Melina smiled as the song she picked for their dance began to play. Tears blurred in her eyes. Ribbon in the Sky by Stevie Wonder. It had been her parents’ wedding song.
Kissing her forehead, he pulled her close and they danced as Stevie sang. This was a glimpse of heaven. A promise of the happiness that had finally found its way to her.
“I love you,” she whispered near his ear.
“And I love you. Now and forever.”
Bobby slapped Mac hard on the back as he passed him a shot of whiskey with his other hand.
“You know I don’t like to drink,” Mac said, although he took the shot from his friend.
Bobby shrugged, and tossed his own shot back. “Maybe so, but this is a night to be celebrated. The least you could do is do so with a drink or two.”
Mac passed Bobby a look. “Or enough to get me hammered?”
“Or that.”
Knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere arguing with his friend, Mac tipped back the shot and let the burning liquor slide down his throat. As soon as a server walked past their spot, Mac got rid of the empty shot glass as to discourage Bobby from demanding Mac have another round.
He had plans for the evening.
Plans for Melina.
Those plans did not include having whiskey dick.
Leaning back against the fountain, Mac found his girl out on the floor, dancing with guests. She radiated happiness—pure joy.
His wife.
That word felt almost surreal.
Almost.
Except it wasn’t, because Mac had been waiting for this day from the very moment he knew that he loved Melina. There was no one else for him—just her.
“You know,” Bobby started to say, grinning in that sly way of his, “what I said earlier was true.”
“What’s that?”
“Never thought I would see the day Mac Maccari settled down and married a woman.”
Mac laughed. “It just took the right woman, man.”
Bobby nodded, his gaze roaming over the crowd of guests, but he didn’t reply. Mac didn’t really need him to, as his longtime, childhood friend was not of the same mentality Mac was where women were concerned. Bobby enjoyed the game of women—he liked females that could play him as well or better than he played them.
It was all about the chase.
And once Bobby caught a girl?
His fun was over—he moved on.
Mac didn’t begrudge his friend’s ways, as far as that went. Bobby never strung a woman along; he was upfront with his motives. A man had to respect that—Mac did, simple as that.
“You’ll be good for the next week, yeah?” Mac asked.
Bobby was reaching for a glass of wine off a server’s tray as she passed. “I’ll handle your crew while you’re gone on your honeymoon.”
“Good.”
Because as much as Luca assured that another Capo could handle Mac’s men for the week, he didn’t trust a fucking soul. As it were, Mac had to work twice as hard because of his age and newness to the family just to get any sort of goddamn respect from the other Capos.
Especially ones like Anthony Corelli.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear …
The Capo in question was making a beeline for Mac from across the room, the man’s dark eyes looking like there was something on his mind.
Mac knew he should probably chat with the man.
It was never good to leave bad blood to sour.
God knew he and Anthony didn’t see eye to eye on a lot of things.
“It’s my wedding,” Mac said more to himself than to Bobby.
Bobby was listening, of course. He was a good friend in that way.
“Yeah,” his friend said. “It’s your day, man.”
“No business on my day, right?”
Bobby finally caught sight of the approaching Capo, and sighed. “He’s a fucking asshole.”
That Anthony was.
“Melina’s waving me over,” Mac said, using another passing server to drop his staring contest with Anthony and move toward his wife on the middle of the dance floor.
Melina hadn’t been looking at him, or waving him over.
But she was now …
Good enough, Mac thought.
“What if he wants to chat?” Bobby asked at Mac’s back.
“He doesn’t want to chat,” Mac assured. “He wants to irritate the living shit out of me because he’s got himself ten years on my button, and he likes to remind me every fucking chance he can.”
All of that was true.
Mac would handle Anthony another time, and give the asshole the respect he was due for his position and time in la famiglia. But at the same time, Mac wasn’t a liar, and he wasn’t going to pretend to be interested in Anthony’s nonsense.
And he was in no mood to play Anthony Corelli’s games—not tonight. It was his wedding, and that was far more important than any stupid shit Anthony wanted to talk about with Mac.
Melina was more important.
This whole day was far more important.
“Could I interrupt?”
Mac felt Melina’s lips curve into a gentle smile at the sound of his mother’s voice. She had tapped Melina’s shoulder, stopping their dance.
Melina stepped away from him, and he immediately wanted to bring her closer, but his mother looked far too happy for him to refuse the hand she was holding out. He took Cynthia’s hand in hers, giving Melina a wink over his mother’s shoulder.
“Don’t go too far,” he told her, “we’re not finished, doll, we’ve got a long night yet.”
Cynthia laughed, but Mac couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed that his mother had heard the underlying promise in his words to his wife. Why should he be embarrassed?
The sweetest pink flushed Melina’s cheeks, however, and as much as she tried to give him a stern look, she failed.
“Where’s she going to go?” Victoria said, sliding in beside Melina. “She needs to have a family dance, too. And that’s why I’m here. Melina?”
The song changed, keeping that slow tempo.
Spotlights from up above came on, lighting the dancefloor with a giant circle, and drawing in the attention of the guests to the four people dancing in the middle.
Mac with his mother.
Melina with Victoria.
Cynthia’s hand brushed Mac’s shoulder, like she was wiping away invisible dirt. “I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier, but you look very handsome.”
Mac grinned. “Don’t I always look that way, Ma?”
“That arrogance of yours is going to get you into trouble someday.”
Probably not.
Mac didn’t tell his mother that, though.
“And Melina looks beautiful,” his mother continued.
“She does,” he agreed, giving his wife a look.
&
nbsp; And she did.
Everything about her—every inch of Melina—screamed beauty, grace, sex, and his.
Entirely his.
Mac focused his attention on his mother for the moment, knowing the end of the night would come soon enough, and he would have the next week on a white-sand beach to show his wife just how beautiful he thought she was.
Cynthia watched Mac with a soft smile and even gentler eyes. The very tips of her fingers patted his cheek in that way she used to do to him when he was child and had done something sweet that made her happy.
“What, Ma?” he asked quietly.
“I did something right—in my life, with you and Victoria, I did something right, James.”
Mac almost stumbled in his steps, surprised at his mother’s confession. “What would make you think any differently, Ma?”
Cynthia patted his back, almost like she wanted to wave away his words or soothe his concerns. “Maybe for a long while, I had assumed somehow that I failed. I wasn’t a good enough wife—not good enough to keep your father home, or away from a bottle, or even to keep him from pissing his life away.”
“None of that was your fault. He chose those things, not you. Your worth is not determined by his mistakes, Ma.”
“It was for a long time,” she replied softly. “And then I had to worry about you and your sister, too. I thought I was failing you two. You had no real father, we struggled all the time, and where could we possibly go?”
“Ma.” Mac stopped their dance, wanting his mother to look at him instead of focusing on the wall behind him or the tapestries that had been hung for the wedding reception. “You were—are—the best mother. You survived, and that’s not failing, Ma.”
She nodded. “But do you know how long it took me to figure that out, James?”
“How long?”
His mother patted his cheek again, teary-eyed and smiling. “This moment. I was going to tell you to treat your wife well, and to love her like she deserves.”
“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything different, Ma.”
“Exactly. I did something right, and that is not failing.”
Because she had taught him those things. How to love, how to care, protect, and cherish.
Cynthia Maccari had done that.
Not anyone else.
His mother.
Mac smirked up at Melina from his spot kneeling at her feet. “I don’t know, doll, this dress is pretty damn tight. It’s going to be—”
“I swear to God, if you flash my lingerie to these people, Mac …”
His grin only deepened. “You’ll what?”
Melina pressed her lips together in a shitty attempt to hide her laughter. “You are terrible—wicked terrible.”
“Yes, but you married me, sweetheart.”
“Damn lucky I did. Nobody else would put up with your arrogant ass.”
Mac smiled wide. “But you get to.”
Melina didn’t even bother denying it that time. “Hurry up.”
“Yes, hurry!” someone shouted from the crowd.
Mac flashed his teeth at his wife, his hands flipping up the bottom of her skirt just enough to show off a bit of her smooth, dark caramel legs. His wife shot him a warning look, her brow cocked high.
He just chuckled as his hands traveled up her calves, under layers of lace and tulle. With one last wink at Melina, Mac dipped his head down, and flipped the skirt of her dress over his shoulders. Her giggles rocked them both, and the chair she was sitting on.
This one tradition had been something Melina hadn’t wanted to do at first. She didn’t mind throwing the bouquet for all the single ladies, but she had not wanted Mac to go searching for her garter in front of a large crowd, only to emerge from between her thighs with it stuck between his teeth.
But … tradition was tradition.
And fucking right, Mac wanted to do this one.
Melina conceded.
He tickled Melina’s thighs with the tips of his fingers, and kissed the insides of her knees, letting his tongue slide along her sweet tasting flesh. No one had to know what he was doing, after all. It wasn’t like they could see him.
Still, Melina knew.
She could feel it.
Mac figured that was all that mattered.
Her giggles increased the higher he moved, until he found that stretchy scrap of lace and satin around her mid-thigh. He nipped onto the fabric and tugged, letting it snap against her thigh before biting onto it again.
Even being under her heavy skirt, and the sounds of the people being muffled, he could still hear the raucous laughter and cheers.
“Oh, my God,” Melina said through bouts of laughter.
Mac pulled the garter down and emerged from his wife’s skirts with a wink and the item between his teeth. Tugging it from his mouth, he put one end of the garter around his index finger, and pulled the other end hard before letting it fling into a group of waiting men.
Never once had he taken his eyes off his wife.
He never even saw who caught it before he was leaning down to press a kiss to Melina’s smiling lips.
“Did you have to make such a show of it?”
“Goddamn right,” Mac replied.
“Terrible,” she repeated.
“You picked me.”
Giving his wife another lingering kiss, Mac then helped Melina up from the chair. But while he should have been focusing on her for the moment, his attention was on something else.
Or rather, someone else.
In the far corner of the ballroom, he watched a confusing scene unfold. No one else seemed to take notice of Luca Pivetti and his two closest men standing nearly toe to toe with one another.
Matthew, Enzo, and Luca all looked ready to throw a fist or two.
Mac was shocked—the men were, for all purposes, best friends.
He had rarely seen them publically disagree.
Luca waved a hand, like he was shooing away dirt.
Enzo’s posture softened.
Matthew, on the other hand, nodded, his face a mask of bitterness. Then, just as fast, he was walking away. Enzo moved toward Luca, but the boss lifted his hand again, keeping his other man away.
And just like that … it was over.
No one had seen a thing.
But Mac had.
What was happening?
The night was finally over and Mac couldn’t be more grateful for that fact. No one had thought to tell him that weddings were fucking exhausting. A person never stopped moving, or eating … or something.
Add in the fact it was a famiglia wedding and the night had just seemed to go on and on with no real end in sight.
Just when Mac thought he would be able to pull himself or his wife away from the crowd for long enough to announce they were going to depart for the airport, someone else would approach them, smiles on their faces, congratulations on their tongues, and gifts in their hands.
That gifts were almost always money.
Envelopes of money, actually.
Bobby had been good enough to keep hold of the gifts for Mac.
Luca had even jokingly said it would be the only money Mac made in his life that he wouldn’t owe tribute on.
It was a lot of money.
Too much money, maybe, but that was a mafia wedding. Their whole wedding had been the perfect example of what wealth could and would do for a person. No matter how many times Melina and Mac asked for the planning not to go overboard, it still somehow managed to do just that.
But he was grateful all the same.
He’d been able to give Melina her one day to show off the queen she truly was.
It wasn’t a day they would soon forget.
“My feet hurt,” Melina said in his ear.
Mac chuckled, and kissed her temple. “Almost to the car, doll.”
Hopefully, she would sleep their plane trip to Barbados away. A white, sandy beach and private residence was just a few hours away.
After the crazy d
ay and night they had, he couldn’t wait.
“Did you say goodbye to your mother?”
“Fifteen times,” he said, shaking his head.
And everyone else, too.
“Is my bag—”
“Stop worrying, Melina,” Mac interrupted, still keeping her close as they strolled through the throng of people who had come to the front of the Pivetti Mansion to see them off. “Everything is taken care of. Victoria made sure your bags were in the car, and you have an outfit to change into. This is now relax time—so relax, doll.”
She did.
A little.
The guests finally quieted as they reached the Challenger. Mac was just pulling the passenger door open to let his wife slide in the car when the silence was shattered by loud pops coming from the shadows the mansion created near the side of the house.
Where the walkways were …
Where the dogs were …
Melina’s hand on Mac’s wrist tightened, her fingernails digging right through his suit jacket like she was going to keep him right where he was no matter what.
The people began to scatter back into the mansion when more gunshots rang out, and the shouts from the guests almost drowned the pops out.
Almost.
That sound was far too distinguishable to ignore.
While a lot of people went toward safety, others didn’t. Capos, the boss, and a large group of Luca’s security bolted toward the back of the Pivetti property.
Snarling and vicious barking filled the air.
Mac got Melina into the car, despite her protests and clinging and still refusing to let him go. Once he had the door closed, he turned fast on his heel, searching for his friend in the moving crowd.
“Bobby!”
“Right here, Mac,” his friend said, pushing through the wall of people moving toward the mansion.
“What is happening?”
Bobby shrugged, and while he seemed cool and unruffled, fear still colored up his gaze.
Because that was what the sound of gunshots did.
It brought fear.
Even when a man was told to ignore it.
He never really could.
“I don’t know what—”
Bobby’s words cut off as a group of men rounded the side of the mansion.
Luca headed them all—hands outstretched.
