Twisted Hearts (The Camorra Chronicles #5)(83)

I slipped out of the car, then helped Gemma to her feet. She avoided Diego’s eyes like he did hers. He had no trouble glaring at me though. He brought his mouth close to my ear. “Couldn’t you have waited until tonight, you asshole?”

I chuckled. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Diego. Gemma is still perfectly entitled to that snow-white dress. I can wait until tonight.”

Gemma was definitely pissed at me after that. Probably because she hated how hot and wet I could get her with a few kisses.

When I led her into the garden where everything for the feast had been set up, thanks to Kiara’s organization skills, Gemma’s expression morphed into one of awe. It was an outdoor wedding. The chances of rain in Vegas were close to zero at this time, so tents would have been a waste. Dozens of round tables filled the center of the garden, which offered more than enough room. Behind them, a dancefloor had been set up which was covered by garlands which would illuminate the place once night fell. I didn’t much care about the flower decorations, but Gemma seemed happy with it and that was all that mattered.

This was the biggest wedding that the Camorra had seen in decades, since our parents had married, and every Underboss and Captain was in attendance as well as Luca as the leading man of the Famiglia. Remo had been wary of having the festivities on our premises, but it would have suggested weakness if we’d been too cautious about inviting our men into our home.

Gemma shook her head, obviously overwhelmed.

Soon the guests took their places and food was served. Gemma was oddly quiet when we moved to the dancefloor for our first dance. With hundreds of eyes on us, she presented her most beautiful smile, but I saw the lingering sadness. It would have been her father’s turn to dance with her after this.

She swallowed, her eyes darting to the black sky. “Do you think Dad and Nonna are watching?”

A tricky question. I wasn’t a believer. I kissed her temple and tightened my hold on her, leaning down to her ear. “Your dad would be happy to see you like this. And your nonna would be proud of you for making it to your wedding night before succumbing to my charm.”

Gemma choked out a laugh, slapping my chest lightly. “You are so full of yourself.”

I kissed her lips, glad that she was smiling again.

Diego danced with his sister after that and I danced with their mom. One dance followed the other after that, an endless string of women coming and going. I’d made sure that none of my past lovers were invited, which wasn’t a problem considering I’d steered clear of Italian women. Diego wasn’t that lucky. His dance with Toni was a prime show of awkwardness.

“Dance with me,” a high voice said.

I lowered my drink. I’d only just managed to escape the dance floor and now found myself staring at a girl with black hair and blue eyes. “Is that an order?” I asked.

From across the room, I found Remo to see his reaction to my predicament, but he wasn’t looking my way. He was watching Luca with narrowed eyes. Luca, on the other hand, looked at me as if he was currently imagining how to slice me into the tiniest pieces possible.

His daughter batted her lashes at me. A death trap in the making, that girl. “It would be rude of you to say no.”

“Is that so?” I asked, setting down my drink.

“Definitely,” she said.

“Remind me of your name again.” I knew her name, everyone did, but she was a bit too confident.

Indignation flashed on her face, a flicker of childish poutiness. “Marcella Vitiello.”

“Ahh, yes, now I remember.”

She flushed, obviously confused by my bored voice. In New York, everyone probably fawned over her like she was a princess.

“Are you going to dance with me or not?”

“That’s a polite or not.”

“You’re scared of my dad,” she muttered. “I thought in Las Vegas, at least, people would be braver.”

“I’m not scared of your dad, Marcella. If you’re so brave, go to my brother Remo and dance with him. I have a wife I need to keep entertained.” I gave her a nod, then walked away. I wouldn’t be the pawn of a pre-pubescent spoiled princess from New York.

I went in search of Gemma, who I hadn’t seen in a while. I found her at our second pool, staring at the illuminated cascades. Her arms were wrapped around her middle. She wasn’t crying, which was a huge relief. I snaked my arms around her from behind, making her jump.

“Why are you hiding out here?”

“I’m not hiding. I just needed to get away from all the attention for a moment.”

I kissed her throat. “See, it wasn’t so bad having your first kiss before today without all these fuckers watching.”

“I doubt Nonna would agree with that,” she said, a mix of guilt and sadness reflecting on her beautiful face.

“You really think she would have been mad at you for having a few kisses before we got married? You’re my wife now, so what does it matter?”

“I don’t know what she would have thought because I can’t ask her, because she’s not here. Neither is Dad.” Her voice wavered and she quickly turned her head away, but I caught the treacherous glistening of her eyes.

“Fuck, Gem,” I said in a low voice. Turning her around, I gripped her face and pressed our foreheads together. “You know they both would have wanted you to be happy. That’s all they wanted.”