Rachel Dyken - Entice

“You mean you’re…” I couldn’t find the words. When had that ever happened? I was born to talk my way out of any and every situation. If the President of the United States needed me to sweet-talk a terrorist, I wouldn’t even blink, but now? Nothing. Game over.

“She’s not pregnant, you idiot.” Mo hissed from behind me. “What I think she’s trying to say, you know, without actually saying it—”

“Thanks, Mo,” Trace grumbled.

“—is that she wants to get married.” Mo grinned triumphantly. “So… grow a pair and put a ring on it.”

Tex snickered behind me.

I lifted the back of my jacket to reveal both of my pistols.

The snickering stopped.

“Still the boss,” I said.

“Still an ass,” Mo sang.

“Or the devil,” Tex added. “However you want to put it.”

Trace gave me a sassy smile. “I was trying to be suggestive.”

“Suggestive, huh?” I licked my lips and looked at her chest. “You sure that’s what you meant?”

“I had a plan.” She grinned. “Suggestive first, seduction next—”

“Unplanned pregnancy to trap mob boss, third.” Tex coughed.

“I’m sorry.” Mo released his arm. “I can’t walk down the aisle with this ass hat. Change partners? Anyone? Anyone?” she called.

“Get in line.” I nudged my sister and looked behind her just in time to see Chase and Mil walk hand in hand toward the front of the line.

“I love you, baby.” I kissed Trace’s cheek. “We’ll talk later, alright?”

She nodded and let me go while I took my position with Chase at the front of the church. I was his best man. Thank God it wasn’t for his wedding with Trace. I would have had to be three sheets to the wind to stay good on that particular promise.

Mil

I watched each of the couples slowly walk down the aisle. The entire church was lit with candles. It was meant to be beautiful — special, but all I felt was sick to my stomach and trapped — as if I was screaming and drowning, yet no one was able to offer help. No life raft. No savior. Just… nothingness.

“Ready?” Luca Nicolasi held out his elbow. I wanted to shake my head. I wanted to yell no and run screaming out of the church — but I couldn’t be that girl. That choice was made for me. My dreams of a normal life? Stolen, just like my childhood. I pushed back the dark memories and regained control of my emotions. I was going to be okay. Everything was going to be fine.

“I’m ready,” I said, more confident than I felt, taking Luca’s arm with mine. Never would I have imagined that I’d be getting married at twenty, or that Luca, basically the most hated boss known to all the American mafia families, would be walking me down the aisle.

Well, at least I had evil on my side; that had to be good, right? Nobody would try to shoot me as I made my way toward Chase.

I took one step then another. People stood. Everyone was wearing black. Funny, because it really fit my mood. Forced smiles, undying loyalty, suspicion, riches — this was my life.

Every girl imagined marrying someone she loved — a prince or a knight in shining armor. Not the villain who has an A-plus in torturing information out of people, and not the one person who was the equivalent to the final nail-in-the-coffin called life. By marrying him, I was solidifying myself within the family. The only escape for me would be death — and I had a choking feeling it would be sooner rather than later. After all, it was only a matter of time before the truth about my family was discovered.

In that moment, I realized I wasn’t a bride on her wedding day — I was a prisoner on death row, and they’d just unlocked my cell. By saying yes I was securing my fate. The way I saw it, marrying Chase just prolonged the inevitable. Funny, because death wasn’t something brides usually contemplated while taking those final steps to the altar — but hell if I didn’t reek of it.

I stopped directly in front of Chase and licked my lips. His clear green eyes looked about two seconds away from bursting into flames. Either he was really pissed or — nah, I couldn’t even entertain the thought of him being attracted to me. At least I knew with Chase my heart was safe — because his had been spoken for a long time ago, and I knew it would take a lot more than a desperate girl in a wedding dress to put the mess that was Chase Winter back together again.

“Who gives this woman?” the priest asked.

“I do,” Luca said with a menacing grin. “I give her.” As he bent over to kiss my cheek, he whispered in my ear. “I give, I take, I steal, I destroy — never forget who truly pulls the strings, my dear. I will be watching.” He pulled back and sighed as if he hadn’t just threatened my life, and took a seat in the front row. I couldn’t shaking as I put my hand in Chase’s grasp.

His eyes darted down to our hands. Quickly, he pulled me closer to his side and whispered so his lips were touching my ear. “I’ve got this. I’ve got you, Mil.”

It was the first time in months I’d actually felt safe.

Chase

She was shaking like a damn leaf. Had it really been necessary for Luca to scare her half to death on her wedding day? Didn’t she, of all people, deserve a break? I tried to focus on keeping myself calm as we recited our vows. What seemed like seconds passed, and then the announcement was made.

“I present to you Mr. And Mrs. Chase Abandonato.” They had to use my legal name, rather than Winter. Damn, if it didn’t feel weird hearing it out loud.

The audience, mostly filled with family who weren’t currently serving prison time — and those who visited from Sicily — clapped and stood.

I raised Mil’s hand into the air and forced a smile, just as my gaze fell on Trace. And just like that, I was done. No longer was I the one comforting Mil. I needed comfort. Damn, I needed something, because I was ready to put a gun to my head. Breathing suddenly became overrated as I watched Trace’s teary smile.

Her. I’d always wanted it to be her.

Life wasn’t merely unfair; it was unjust, uncontrollably bleak, and dark — because the only thing I’d ever wanted had been her, and I’d lost her, lost everything dear to me and gained another full responsibility. How shitty of a husband could I be? I mean, less than two minutes after saying I’d love and protect Mil with my life, and I wanted to end it — all because Trace had smiled at me.

“Let’s go.” Mil tugged my hand, pulling my gaze away from Trace’s and back to all the smiling faces around me. No one knew the reason Mil and I were getting married. Nixon had fabricated such a ridiculously good story that even I would have believed it, had I not been living my own personal hell these past few months.

According to every person present at the wedding, Mil and I had reconnected at Phoenix’s funeral, and the rest was history. Love at first sight and all that.

We walked arm-in-arm down the aisle, wordlessly gripping one another as if each of us was waiting for the other to be the first to crack. To hell with that. I wasn’t going to show weakness — I couldn’t. I’d messed up too much in the past few months. It was time to do my job regardless of my personal feelings in the matter. I had been slacking — I’d allowed a girl to get so deep under my skin that I’d forgotten what I was. A born killer, a made man, son of a very dead mafia boss — and husband to one of the De Lange leaders.

As far as Mil was concerned, I was it. I just needed to prove to her that I could take it — that I could push past my sorry-ass heartbreak and be the man she needed me to be, because after seeing the look of sheer terror on her face as she walked down the aisle, I had come to one conclusion. She was hiding something big. The pit of my stomach dipped — whatever that something was — it could very well get us all killed.

* * *

“Ten bucks says the only person not packing is Mil’s grandma by marriage,” Mo said once we’d all finished eating our dinner, which had basically been a painful process of chewing, swallowing, drinking unhealthy amounts of wine, and trying to stare at my plate to keep from looking at Trace, while my wife sat next to me. Hell had officially risen to earth, and I was smack-dab in the middle of it, trying my damnedest to remember how to swallow without choking — without dying a little bit inside each time I saw him touch her face. And trying not to feel like an ass when Mil caught me staring — again. I’d resolved about an hour ago to actually be the man she needed me to be, and I was already failing. Horribly. The second time I looked, Mo kicked at me under the table but accidently hit Tex instead, causing everyone to look up, which was probably why Mo had said what she had.

We all turned heads to look at the hundred-year-old woman. She was currently on her fourth glass of wine and looked to be about two seconds away from falling into her chicken cacciatore.

“Nope.” Nixon shook his head. “It’s always the ones you don’t suspect. My money’s on Grandma.”

“I’ll take that bet.” Tex rose. “Seems like someone needs to fall on their own knife and all that. This has to be the most depressing wedding I’ve ever gone to, and that includes the fake one Mo made for her kittens when she was four.”

“They lived happily ever after.” Mo tilted her head into the air and narrowed her eyes.

Tex leaned down and tapped her on the nose. “Yes, if happily means they lived for five damn minutes before marching directly into oncoming traffic.”

“I think the wedding reception just hit its low point,” Mil muttered. “Save us, Tex. I beg you. Find the gun, and I’ll give you a prize.”