Savage Prince (DeSantis Mafia Book 2)

by S. Massery

  “Aha, see? No buttons. You must like Aiden at least a little bit.”

  My cheeks flame, and I avert my gaze. The evidence is stacking against him, and now I’m even more unsure of my feelings toward him. But that’s not what a bride is supposed to say. If I voiced any of my concerns, I’d be going off script.

  “A bit,” I hedge.

  She snickers. “Okay, okay, I’ll let you live in delusion—for now. You helped me out when I desperately needed it, and I’m going to repay that favor as long as I can.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “There’s only one favor I asked—”

  “I know,” she says. She fiddles with the ribbon of yet another box on the coffee table, and she sits heavily. “But it doesn’t feel like enough. So, I’m at your disposal.”

  I’m collecting favors, it seems.

  “Can you show me what’s in the box?” I ask instead. “I’m dying of curiosity.”

  She hands it over, and I take my time loosening the ribbon. There’s something about unwrapping an unexpected surprise… well, sometimes it’s good and sometimes it makes you cry. But I trust Amelie not to put anything too emotional in this.

  “Something borrowed,” she says.

  She takes the ribbon and the lid, leaving me staring down at a tiara nestled in a bed of satin. The silver is cut like lace, with diamonds and pearls imbedded in it. It’s delicate, but also seems like it would be a good weapon.

  “It’s…”

  “Fitting for you,” she says. “Every girl wants to feel like a princess, but you? I mean, maybe not technically, but Mafia princess and real princess are almost the same thing.”

  The hair stylist left my hair down and curled, although some was pulled back in an intricate knot. Amelie stands, gesturing for me to sit, then carefully places the tiara on my head. She retrieves some pins to keep it in place.

  “I thought I might share a moment like this with my sister,” she murmurs. “But I’m happy this is helping you. I’m glad I can be here for you.”

  I clutch her hands. “Me, too.”

  The door opens, and Cat sticks her head in. She’s transformed herself in the time I was upstairs, her face now made up with a smoky eye and glossy lips. “If we don’t leave in the next two minutes, Aiden will probably throw you over his shoulder. Or Jameson will throw a hissy fit… I don’t want to see either one, to be honest.”

  “Ooh, I knew Aiden had a bit of caveman in him,” Amelie says on a sigh. “How’s the sex? Delicious? Kinky?”

  Cat shrieks. “I don’t want to hear about my cousin’s sex life.”

  I smirk and loop my arm through Amelie’s. She came dressed and ready in a pale-blue, flowing dress, a chunky necklace, and sapphires in her ears. Her blonde hair is pin-straight and falls to the tops of her breasts.

  I nudge aside a few strands of hair and examine the scar on her forehead.

  It was a vicious, angry thing the last time I saw it. Now the scar seems to have settled into a dark-pink line, slightly raised. It very well may disappear with time.

  “This healed well,” I murmur.

  She nods and swallows. “It’s still a reminder of what I won’t allow. And what I owe you.”

  I lead her toward the door. I don’t really want Aiden to carry me out of here over his shoulder, because he definitely would.

  We step into the elevator, Cat in front of us and my three stylists behind us. I wink at Amelie and say, “Yeah, the sex is pretty good. He does this thing—”

  “Shut up,” Cat groans.

  Amelie and I burst into giggles.

  Gratitude fills me. I didn’t know how much I needed a familiar, non-DeSantis face today.

  Sam waits for us at the parking garage, and his eyes widen when his gaze lands on me. Cat smirks and elbows her brother, hurrying past him to open the door to the limo.

  Amelie climbs in, then Sam, Cat, and me last. Our driver comes around and closes us in, and I look up at the familiar face.

  Breaker—one of Aiden’s guys.

  He winks through the glass, then slides back in the driver’s seat.

  “I’d ask if you have cold feet, but I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to back down any more than I was,” Amelie whispers. “And just remember, if you hear a loud bang—”

  I grip her hand tightly.

  “Everything will be fine,” Sam reassures us. “We’ve been keeping watch on the church, the surrounding buildings are empty, and we have more guards than ever.”

  Amelie gives him a haughty look. “You can’t tell me my wedding wasn’t crawling with security. It was more high-profile than this, surely.”

  He tips his head.

  Great. I swallow and run my finger up the outside of my leg, just checking that the blade is still there. It’s a small comfort.

  The last time the DeSantises tried to celebrate a wedding, a man died.

  “It was so last-minute—surely that helps?” Cat asks her brother.

  He nods. “Leaves little time for someone to prepare an attack.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Someone—you’re insinuating my family would try something?”

  He meets my gaze unflinchingly. “You don’t agree?”

  I keep my opinions to myself.

  “Things are a bit tenser here than I thought,” Amelie says. Her hand lands on my knee, and we stay like that on the short ride to the church. “Are you really okay? You seem… off.”

  I force a smile—not the last one of the day, I’m sure. “I’m grappling with a lot. I’ll be fine.”

  We stop out front, where a few men wait for us. Cat and Sam climb out first, and he takes her arm.

  “Ready, Gemma?” Breaker asks. He leans in the open door closest to Amelie and offers me a gentle smile.

  “One more thing,” Amelie says. She tugs the door mostly shut and pivots toward me. “Can I walk you down the aisle?”

  My mouth falls open.

  “And here I thought I’d have to walk alone,” I manage.

  “Is that a yes?”

  “I’d be honored.”

  She hugs me quickly, then shoves the door back open. It nearly catches Breaker’s face.

  “Ready,” I answer him.

  He holds out his hand, and I let him help me rise.

  “Oh!” Cat rushes toward me with a bouquet in her hand. “I can’t believe we almost forgot this.”

  White roses and baby’s breath. A few pops of light-pink roses, and a few black ones. The stems are wrapped in silk and lace.

  I swallow over the lump in my throat. I’m doing this. Dad was on board. Mom… she’d approve of Aiden, too. Maybe. After her initial hesitation.

  How many people can say they’ve killed for me? That’s got to win him some brownie points.

  Amelie squeezes my hand, and we walk up the steps into the church.

  Here goes nothing.

  We pause in the foyer, and Amelie lets out a big breath. Cat and Sam nod and slip through the door, continuing down. I try to peek, then stop myself. I don’t want to know how many DeSantises will be staring at me.

  The whole family, maybe.

  “Deep breath,” she whispers. “And no matter what happens, I’ll see you on the other side.”

  I meet her gaze and tilt my head. There’s a lot I could ask, but this is one of the few times where knowing will be to my detriment.

  “Ready?” an usher asks.

  We nod, and he waves his hand through the opening in the door. Suddenly both doors are drawn open, and the traditional procession music begins to play.

  Amelie smooths my skirt and offers her arm. I clutch my bouquet in one hand, held low in front of my waist, and her arm in the other. I don’t even look at the people standing around us. My gaze is glued to the man I’m walking toward.

  Aiden wears a sleek tuxedo. Black collared shirt under his jacket. No tie. The top button is undone, exposing the tanned column of his throat. And his attention is fastened to me, sweeping me from head to toe.

  Heat curls l
ow in my belly.

  “You both might start panting,” Amelie whispers.

  I elbow her.

  Her chuckle is so quiet, I almost miss it.

  And then we’re at the altar, and Aiden descends the steps to retrieve me. Amelie passes him my hand, winking at him. He shakes his head, then meets my eyes again. He glances down at the ring on my hand, and his tiny smirk fades.

  “Did you read—?”

  “I did,” I whisper.

  We step back up to the priest, whose Adam’s apple bobs as he takes us in.

  “You look stunning, by the way,” Aiden says.

  I glance away and make the mistake of eyeing the crowd.

  Oh God. The DeSantis clan fills almost all of the rows. It’s a small church, not meant to hold more than a hundred parishioners, but still.

  “Are we ready to begin?” the priest asks us.

  “Yes,” Aiden answers.

  “Face each other.”

  Cat steps up and takes my bouquet, retreating back to her spot in the first row. Amelie sits between her and Luca. Sam is on Cat’s other side. Jameson is across the aisle with his brother Mac, my card-playing buddy, and the man I can only assume is Cat’s father.

  I take both of Aiden’s hands and look up into his eyes.

  The priest begins, but most of it fades away… until the vows.

  Then Aiden drawls, “You first, baby.”

  I cringe. I wasn’t sure if we were doing regular vows, but it seems I’m free to say whatever I want. That’s how it should be, right? I’m basically vowing to stay by his side forever, or at least support his endeavors forever. And he’ll do the same for me.

  The least I can do is sprinkle in some honesty.

  “I’m still pissed at you,” I begin.

  That gets a chuckle from the crowd, and a smirk from Aiden.

  “But that’s not the reigning emotion. In fact, I’m not quite sure how I feel at all. But that’s just to say, Aiden DeSantis, that we—”

  I’m cut off by a shrieking whine, like a firework.

  My first thought is, guns don’t make that noise.

  Something explodes over the choir section, a bright pop of light and an awful sound. It’s almost deafening in the confined space, and Aiden and I automatically hit the floor. My ears ring, and I glance around frantically.

  In fact, everyone does as they try to find the intruder at the back of the church.

  And that’s when someone grabs me.

  I’m dragged backward by strong arms, and cold metal touches my temple. At the same time, the side and back doors burst open. Two men come in the side and three down the back aisles, their assault rifles raised.

  The men move with smooth efficiency, and they’re dressed in all black. Kevlar vests, belts loaded with more weapons, helmets—and masks that completely obscure their faces.

  “EVERYONE DOWN,” the one holding me yells in a booming voice.

  I grab his forearm and let him pull me backward, but my gaze goes to Aiden. He’s crouched, his weapon already drawn. I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s carrying at his own damn wedding, but I am.

  One of the men strides toward him and kicks the gun from his hand, raising his rifle. He stares down at Aiden, and unbidden terror seizes me.

  “No!” I scream. I’d been going with the flow, but Aiden’s death will not be on my hands. I kick at my captor and struggle to rip free.

  The one who might’ve shot Aiden yanks his head back by his hair. “You come after us and she’s dead.”

  Aiden growls. “Try me.”

  The man eyes him. I stare holes in the side of Aiden’s face, willing him not to risk his life—not for me. Not like this.

  But telepathy isn’t working, because Aiden slowly rises to his feet.

  “Don’t.” My voice isn’t working—I’m not loud enough.

  The man takes a canister from his belt and pulls the ring out, tossing it into the center aisle. The four others had been watching the guests, all of which seem frozen. By choice, I’m not sure. It must be a blow to see the heir of the family at the wrong end of a semi-automatic weapon. And his bride, too.

  Well, they probably don’t give a shit about you, Gem.

  I kick at the man behind me.

  The canister pops, and white smoke erupts from it. In a matter of seconds, the back half of the church is impossible to see.

  Someone fires a shot toward the back of the room, and I flinch.

  “Take her,” the one behind me orders.

  Aiden lunges forward at that, his expression furious. The man holding me raises his gun. He fires twice, hitting Aiden in the chest.

  My world stops.

  Aiden falls backward, and my mind transposes Kai over him. Then my father. But I blink and I’ve snapped back to the real world.

  He hits the altar floor and doesn’t move.

  My scream rings in my ears. I don’t stop screaming, but my fight doubles. I break free for a moment and get to Aiden’s side, managing to grasp his arm before someone rips me away. I’m hysterical.

  More than I should be. More than I ever would’ve expected.

  “Christ, she’s strong,” one of them grunts.

  He spins me around and shoves between my shoulder blades. I fall toward another assailant. That one grasps my shoulders, letting his rifle swing by its strap for a moment. His piercing blue eyes meet mine, then he drags a black sack over my head. It tightens around my neck—not enough to strangle me, but I hesitate at the contact.

  At the threat of being strangled.

  That subdues me long enough for them to bind my wrists together with zip ties. Hands grip my waist and hoist me up, flopping me over a shoulder.

  We go maybe four feet before something hisses and pops—another canister, I’d guess. This one much closer.

  I choke on the smell of smoke through the black cloth, twisting to try to alleviate the burning in my lungs.

  “Hold,” someone says quietly.

  A gunshot echoes from seemingly far away, then the snick of it impacting stone.

  “Sniper.”

  “More smoke.”

  “Move. Right now.”

  I’m jostled as my abductor carries me, then I’m forced back to my feet. A hand on the top of my head guides me into a vehicle, and I manage to inch away from the door. A body lands next to mine, and multiple doors slam.

  We peel the fuck out of there.

  I go over the scene in my head, trying to wrangle my emotions. Now isn’t the time to lose it—not if this was a rescue mission.

  I lean back and silently count to fifty.

  There was no blood on Aiden’s shirt. How, I don’t know. A mystery for another day. But the close range might’ve been enough to knock the wind from his lungs.

  He’s probably alive.

  That thought releases the tightness in my lungs.

  Aiden thought hope was the worst thing—but now it’s the only thing keeping me calm. Whether he deserves my hope is another thing entirely.

  I finish counting, then reach up and tug the hood off my head. I swipe at my nose with my bound hands and glance around.

  Two men sit up front, one beside me. I watch them all for a beat, but we ride silently. They haven’t removed their masks, either. The one beside me reaches over and cuts the zip ties off with a small knife, then resumes his position.

  “My brother hired you,” I guess. I twist around and spot a dark SUV with the three other men riding behind us, then face forward.

  He nods an affirmation.

  “Did he tell you to kill Aiden?”

  He removes the mask. Those same blue eyes bore into mine, and I do my best not to flinch. I don’t recognize him—Colin wouldn’t be so stupid as to hire people we know. Cold and impersonal was the only way any of us would’ve made it out of that church alive.

  His dark hair is cut short, slightly longer on top in a way that reminds me of the military. Square jaw, tanned skin. He’s got a scar on his cheek that was hidden b
y the mask.

  “We weren’t paid for that,” he says.

  Not a no.

  “Do I know you?” I ask, just in case.

  He shakes his head. “We haven’t had the pleasure.”

  I grimace. “I wouldn’t call this a pleasure.”

  “No,” the driver agrees. “Just necessary.”

  I fold my arms over my chest. “Go on, then. Why was it necessary to kidnap me from my own wedding?”

  They fall silent.

  “Let me guess—not your job to tell me?”

  The one beside me winks.

  Another thing occurs to me. “How’d you get them all to leave me?”

  If Aiden is dead, they’ll be coming for them.

  If he’s not dead… he’ll be coming for me.

  Part of me is hurt by that injustice. He had to know they wouldn’t kill me—I knew that, even with a gun to my head, and he’s got more experience with this sort of thing. Yet he was still an idiot and tried to save me.

  If the bastard died trying to save me from a non-threat, I’m going to bring him back to life to shoot him myself. Honestly, men and their egos.

  “We rigged a bomb on all the doors,” the driver says. “Bought us an hour unless they can disarm it before then.”

  My jaw drops. “You can’t—”

  “When the timer gets to zero, the power cuts out,” the third assures me. “It’s just a minor explosion, anyway. It looks scary to deter them.”

  “Well, shit. Fuck.” I hit my thigh with my fist. They’re trapped in a church.

  This couldn’t be better.

  “We need to make a stop,” I say.

  “Are you serious?”

  I nod. “I don’t mind bailing out of a moving car. Would be a shame to ruin the dress, though. So if you could just turn around and go back to the DeSantis tower, that would be great.”

  “Are you mental?”

  I find myself nodding even as the driver makes a quick U-turn and steps on the gas.

  “Probably,” I say.

  We make it back to the tower in record time, and I extract the lucky keycard from my bra. Blue Eyes follows me out of the car and into the elevator. It zips up to the twenty-fourth floor, and I unlock Aiden’s apartment.

  I stop him with an arm across the door. “No snooping. No reporting any of this back to Colin. Clear?”

  He grins. “Yes, ma’am.”