After dinner, the dance floor was prepared for the following festivities. My stomach tightened with nerves. This was actually the part of the wedding I was the most nervous about—maybe not the most… that was the wedding night. But I worried about how Samuel and I would master our dance. Of course, I could move to the music in my wheelchair—I had done so often with Giorgia when we’d partied to our favorite songs in our rooms—but I’d never danced with someone while in a wheelchair. Samuel and I had never practiced doing so, and I feared rolling over his feet while trying to dance with him. Mom looked ready to combust with nerves. She was probably even more worried than me about all the possible things that could go wrong.
When everything was set up, Samuel leaned toward me. “I’ll carry you toward the dance floor, and if you think you can do it, I’ll help you through the song.”
I swallowed and gave a nod. “If you hold me up, I can do a song.”
“All right,” Samuel murmured and rose to his feet. Everyone’s eyes settled on us, but I ignored them. I wanted this moment to be Samuel’s and mine. I didn’t want other people’s judgment to ruin this for me. I motioned at my heels. I doubted I could stand a single moment on them. My balance was too impaired. Samuel understood and got down on one knee in front of me. Heat shot into my cheeks when he touched my ankle and carefully slid my heels off. I couldn’t feel his touch, but I still felt a flood of tingles shoot through my body. Samuel straightened once more and picked me up as if it was the easiest thing in the world. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pressed my other hand against his chest, not because I needed to steady myself but because it felt good to feel his steady heartbeat and strength.
When we arrived on the dance floor, Samuel carefully put me on my feet, but he held most of my weight until I found my balance. Yet even then, he still firmly held on to my waist. “Ready?” he asked in a low voice, his blue eyes locking on mine. A low murmur had picked up among the guests, but I still didn’t look. I only had eyes for Samuel, my husband. It was still difficult to wrap my mind around the fact that I was a married woman now.
“Yes.”
My heartbeat was racing, and my mouth was becoming increasingly dry. Samuel gave a sign to the band, and they played the first notes of the slow waltz. I’d danced the waltz often before but never like this, not once since my accident. Samuel began swaying lightly to the music, and I did the same. For a moment, I was sure my legs would slip away, but Samuel tightened his hold around my waist.
We swayed to the music for a long time, my hands resting on Samuel’s strong shoulders. Samuel held my waist. From the outside, it probably looked as if he was simply touching me, but his hands were the reason I could stay upright for so long. My fingers clutched his shoulders, and his hands supported me. He carried most of my weight as we danced. I didn’t mind that we couldn’t do a waltz. This back-and-forth swaying was more than I’d dared to hope for, and it filled my heart with so much joy and gratefulness that I had trouble keeping the grin off my face despite the strain I felt in my legs.
I peered up and gave Samuel another grateful smile. His expression, as usual, was emotionless, controlled, and on the verge of brooding.
“Am I getting too heavy?” I asked with a hint of worry. I was much smaller than Samuel, and he looked and felt really strong, but I imagined it wasn’t easy to dance with so much additional weight.
He gave me a small smile. “I can handle it. Don’t worry about me.”
My eyebrows rose, and my expression became teasing. “So you’re saying I’m heavy.” I flushed, surprised by my own courage.
“I didn’t, and I won’t. I learned a lesson or two about the traps men can walk into in a marriage by watching my parents. To some questions, there are only wrong answers.”
The song ended, and Danilo took over from Samuel before I could say anything. I had to admit I missed being in Samuel’s arms, even if his touch was still foreign. After the dance with my brother, he brought me back to my wheelchair. I wished I could keep dancing. It always made me happy. Maybe one day I would dance as a hobby again.
Samuel appeared at the table, dropping his sister Sofia off. She and Danilo took off for another dance, and I watched them with longing.
Samuel cleared his throat, drawing my gaze up to his face.
He held out his hand. “Would you give me the honor of another dance?”
I bit my lip, nervously glancing around as I felt the gazes of the people at the surrounding tables on us. One dance had been expected, but this definitely caught the attention of several people.
I put my hand in Samuel’s, then whispered, “I’d like to dance in my wheelchair.”
Samuel nodded slowly, but I could see the questions in his expression. I too wasn’t sure how slow dancing with someone would work. He led me toward the dance floor. We stayed at the edge so I wouldn’t roll over any feet. I had never tried a waltz since my accident. Samuel’s cool and resolute expression gave me confidence, so I extended my arms so he could clasp my hands. “Let me know if I do it wrong.”
I gave him a nervous smile. “I wouldn’t know. It’s the first time I’ve done a waltz like this.”
He nodded again, appearing even more determined. He pushed me back, then pulled me closer again, back and forth, back and forth, until I felt confident to release one of his hands and do a twirl. I giggled when I managed to avoid rolling over his feet. I had to pay for my overconfidence a moment later—or, rather, Samuel had to pay for it—as I rolled over his toes during another twirl.
“I’m sorry!” I exclaimed at the brief flash of discomfort on his face.
“I’m used to living on the edge,” he said in such a humorless tone that I couldn’t stop a flood of giggles from bursting out.
Samuel’s mouth briefly twitched into a smile, and my worries over how this day would go evaporated.
Our eyes met. “Thank you.”
SAMUEL
“What for?” I asked. Emma looked at me as if I’d given her a great gift. I hope she wasn’t thanking me for marrying her because she’d soon realize I wasn’t the fucking catch everyone made me out to be.
“For dancing with me like this,” she said with a small laugh as if it should have been obvious. Her eyes sparkled with happiness, and all I could think about was how she could still be such a positive person after all the shit that’d been thrown at her. Hearing her carefree giggles had given me a burst of positivity I hadn’t felt in forever.
“You’re my wife. You deserve as many wedding dances as you desire.”
For all the shit you’ll have to put up with while being married to me.
The song drew to an end, but I didn’t stop moving back and forth with Emma, and when the next song began, she tried another twirl.
When she didn’t roll over my feet this time, she looked immensely pleased with herself. “How are your toes?”
I gave her a small smile. “Don’t worry about me. That was nothing. I can tolerate a lot of pain, and this is far less painful than the social chitchat at these gatherings.”
Her eyebrows rose, and her expression became teasing. “So you prefer me rolling over your feet to talking to me?” She flushed. I’d always only seen Emma’s quiet and shy side, so I too was surprised, not unpleasantly though. If she wasn’t quite as breakable, that would make things easier for me. Today, her personality had shone through several times.
“I don’t. Talking to you has been surprisingly pleasant so far.”
“Do you say it because you learned that lesson from watching your parents’ marriage or because it’s true?”
“It’s true, but said lessons definitely play a part too.”
She giggled, then bit her lip, looking away. After a moment, she cast her gaze back up, watching me through her long lashes. “I can’t wait to see what lessons you learned.”
A dirty joke lay on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it at the last moment. For some reason, I was unsure how to handle Emma when it came to the bedroom. We’d never breached the subject of sex for multiple reasons. It had felt inappropriate for a long time due to her age. She was eight years younger, dammit. Plus, we rarely talked alone. And for some reason, it felt as if I was taking advantage of her. Her disability made her seem so vulnerable that making advances on her felt like I was using her.
“Why are you frowning?” she asked, worry filling her beautiful face.
“It’s nothing,” I clipped.
“Of course.” She became tense, and I wanted to kick myself. I’d have to figure this shit out by tonight. Maybe it would be best if I just talked to her, even if it embarrassed her. I could hardly talk to Danilo about this even though he was the one who knew her best. The thought of his enraged face if I did talk about the wedding night cheered me up considerably.
“Let’s enjoy another dance,” I suggested, and her hand relaxed in mine once again. After that dance, Danilo took over again, giving me another hard look. He should know that I was immune to it by now.
Despite my desire to return to the table for a glass of wine, it was my turn to dance with my mother next.
Her eyes were glassy when she took Emma’s place. She hadn’t always been this emotional in public, and she was still mostly a very controlled woman, but since losing my twin sister, she seemed to savor every moment she got to celebrate with Sofia and me all the more.
She gave me a half-embarrassed smile. “You two look really sweet together. I hope the photographer took many photos of you.”
“I’m sure she did. You’ll have plenty of images to fawn over.”
Mom gave me a reproachful look. I gave her the smile that always appeased her. She squeezed my shoulder. “Are you happy?”
“This marriage was never meant to make me happy. It was a business deal,” I said.
Mom briefly looked at where Sofia stood talking to Anna and Luisa. Sofia definitely didn’t look happy about her marriage to Danilo, which was another thing that had dampened my mood in the past few days. “I know, but I want you to be happy. I want you to at least try to be happy and not forbid yourself from it because of a past mistake.”
“A mistake doesn’t kill three of your friends. But I’ll try to be happy, Mom.”
Mom’s eyes drifted to Emma who still swayed to the music with Danilo. “She deserves happiness too.”
“Playing the guilt card?” I asked with a hint of amusement. Mom didn’t use it very often, but when she did, she was good at it.
“If it ensures you finally stop living in the past and be the boy I raised.”
“I’m still him, just older and more jaded. That boy wouldn’t survive long as an Underboss.”
She hit my shoulder. I kissed her cheek. “Time to switch partners.”
I handed her over to Dante and started dancing with Valentina. With her heels, she was almost my height, which was an impressive feat.
“You look relieved to be dancing with me.”
I smirked. “Sometimes mothers can get a bit overbearing.”
“Well, I’m one myself, so yes. Don’t be angry with her. For a mother seeing a child suffer is the worst thing possible.”
“Do I look like I suffer?” I asked sarcastically. The last thing I needed was to appear weak in public.
“No, you are as controlled as Dante where your emotions are concerned.”
I didn’t comment on that. Dante was my Capo, that he was also my uncle was completely irrelevant, so I definitely wouldn’t judge his emotional state. As his wife, Valentina could say whatever she wanted.
Luckily, Valentina didn’t try to talk about feelings after that. Eventually, I could escape the dance floor. Emma was in conversation with Sofia, Anna, and a red-headed girl I didn’t know at our table, so I went over to the bar to grab a drink. Danilo joined me soon after, ordering a drink for himself. “I appreciate that you gave Emma the dance she deserves.”
I nodded, sensing that this wasn’t all he had to say.
“About tonight—”
I cut him off before he could piss me off. His bringing up the subject of our wedding night was definitely nothing I would tolerate, even if I’d previously entertained the thought. “Listen, if this is about what happens behind closed doors tonight, then keep it to yourself. Emma is my wife, and she and I can figure things out without your involvement. Or do you want to discuss why Sofia looks like she swallowed a bitter pill?”
Danilo narrowed his eyes, but then he nodded. He obviously wasn’t very keen on having someone shove their nose in his marriage either. Mom had told me that Sofia had assured her that Danilo treated her right. She probably wished for a loving marriage like most women did. Like Emma did.
Renato joined us, carrying two glasses filled generously with red wine. “Negroamaro,” he said as he handed one glass to me.
Danilo raised an eyebrow. “You can refill your glasses. You don’t need to fill them to the brim.”
Renato took a hefty gulp from his wine, emptying it by half. “Thanks for the tip.”
I took a few gulps from my wine as well. The effects of the spirit in my flask had already faded, and I hadn’t found time to get it out again yet. “That busty redhead makes me dream about a tit job,” Renato muttered, his eyes on the curvy girl talking to Emma, Anna, and Sofia.
I sent him a look that said shut up.
Danilo scowled. “That is Emma’s best friend Giorgia.”
“She promised?” Renato asked.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Danilo drawled.
I emptied my glass. “I don’t think telling her you want a tit fuck is going to make her swoon.”
“If you married her, Emma would have her best friend in Minneapolis. That would be a good thing,” Danilo said.
I shook my head. “Always the matchmaker.”
Danilo sent me a warning look. “This isn’t something we should discuss here.” He was worried Emma would find out about our deal. I wasn’t too keen on having the info spread either.
“What isn’t?” Emma asked suddenly. She was a couple of arm’s lengths away from us, and Giorgia was with her.
Emma glanced curiously between Danilo and me.
“Business,” Danilo said with a tight smile. He went over to Emma and squeezed her shoulder before he took off toward my sister Sofia, who looked less than enthused about his approach.
“I’d like to introduce my best friend Giorgia Farina.”
I dipped my head in greeting, trying not to stare at her low neckline. If Renato hadn’t spewed the nonsense about the tit fuck, that wouldn’t have been a problem. “Nice to meet you. You’re always welcome to visit Minneapolis. My family and I will make sure you’re safe.”
Giorgia smiled brightly, but the smile dulled when she noticed Renato’s less-than-proper leer. He was practically glued to her chest. I nudged his side. “Please meet my friend Renato.” He tore his gaze up to nod at Emma before he smiled his most charming smile at Giorgia. I hoped he didn’t think he could ruin my wedding by making advances on this girl.
“Pleasure,” he said in a way that made me want to kick his stupid ass.
Giorgia made a face as if she got a whiff of something nasty.
Emma blinked, then gave me an uncertain look. “Uh, nice to meet you, Renato.” She met Giorgia’s gaze, and something passed between them that I had no clue about.
“We should head back to Anna and Sofia,” Emma said and gave me a questioning look.
“So much for making a good first impression,” I muttered.
“Giorgia liked what she saw.”
“I’m talking about Emma. You’re my best friend. It would be nice if my wife didn’t hate you.”
Renato scoffed. “She’s your wife. She has to accept whoever you’re friends with, Samuel. You make the rules.”
“I need another drink.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Come on. I have a bottle of bourbon in my jacket.”
After a couple of shots of bourbon, I felt much more relaxed. I knew I couldn’t get drunk at my wedding, but it took a lot of alcohol for me to show actual signs of intoxication.
I was glad for my ability to hold my liquor when Dante, Valentina, and my parents joined me after Renato and I had almost emptied the bottle. Renato quickly excused himself, as he definitely showed signs of having drunk too much.
“Where’s your lovely wife?” Valentina asked with a smile. Dante had a hand on her lower back and regarded her with obvious appreciation. My father had an arm around Mom’s waist. Despite their arranged marriages, both couples obviously loved each other, but I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that happened with most pairings. They were lucky. Considering fate’s way of screwing me over in the past, I doubted luck would be on my side with my marriage to Emma. I searched the room until I found Emma in conversation with Giorgia near the bar. She was drinking a glass of white wine. “She’s busy with her friend.”
“Maybe you should go over to her now,” Mom suggested.
“Ines,” Dad said in a low voice. “I’m sure Emma and Samuel can handle their marriage.”
Dante exchanged a mildly amused look with me. I felt half tempted to ask him how he had built a solid marriage with Valentina, considering he was as emotionally withdrawn as me.
“She’s on her own now,” Mom said.
My gaze locked on Emma, who was moving toward the doors and went out of the room unaccompanied. I considered following her, but I didn’t want her to feel watched. She could handle herself. I didn’t want her to think I considered her not capable. “She’s probably heading to the bathroom. I doubt she wants my company there.”
Mom sent me a reproachful look, but I was immune to it by now.
When Emma hadn’t returned fifteen minutes later, I got a bad feeling. I kept glancing at the doors.
“Why don’t you go to your wife? Dante and I will chat some more with your parents,” Valentina said with a knowing smile.
Dante gave a curt nod. “Tonight is only about you and your wife.”
I gave them a tight smile and headed for the doors. I couldn’t explain it, but I just felt particularly protective of Emma. Maybe it was because she seemed more vulnerable in her wheelchair. Any kind of weakness always drew in the worst characters of our world, and plenty of horrid people were at this gathering today.
I followed my instinct and went toward the restrooms in the adjoining hallway. The moment I turned the corner, I spotted Emma, and she wasn’t alone.
One of the guests, a distant relative whose name I’d never bothered to keep in my mind, stood in front of her. His wide stance and the way he bent over with his hand pressed against the wall right over Emma’s head pissed me off right away. My pulse began pounding.
“Maybe you need help…” he said, and I hesitated, wondering if I let my irrational overprotectiveness get the better of me, but he leaned farther down as if he was about to lift her despite Emma shaking her head.
What the fuck? He was definitely not being helpful. The asshole was making a move on her, on my wife. I got a glimpse of Emma’s face. Her face turned red, and she looked uncomfortable.
I stalked toward them, now absolutely furious. He straightened a second before I reached him, but I didn’t give him time to turn. I grabbed his throat, my fingers digging in and squeezing. I punched him in his kidney with my free hand. He sank on one knee and stared up at me with watering eyes. I didn’t loosen my hold on his throat. “You owe my wife an apology.”
Emma’s wide eyes darted from me to him. She held his gaze.
I released him so he could speak. “I’m sorry,” he got out, sounding only distantly honest, but Emma nodded and gave me an encouraging look.
I met his gaze. “I think it’s time for you to go home now. The party’s over for you.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried away, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe what had happened. I gritted my teeth against a new wave of anger and tried to stop myself from chasing him down and killing him. If Emma hadn’t been there and if this wasn’t our wedding, I definitely wouldn’t have reacted as restrained. Maybe I would request his presence at some point and fake an accident.
I stepped closer to Emma. She was smoothing out her beautiful dress, her cheeks still flushed. She looked as if she wanted to disappear.
“Do people often disrespect you?” I asked in a moderately calm voice.
Emma shrugged, peering up at me through her long lashes. She looked gorgeous with her big doe-like eyes. “It happens on occasion. Some men seem to think I’m easy prey because of the wheelchair.” Some of her embarrassment was replaced by fierce frustration. Her brows pulled together as she regarded the ring around her finger.
“It won’t happen again,” I muttered.
Emma raised her brows curiously. “You won’t always be around. I need to learn to speak my mind instead of sitting there like a mouse in a trap.”
“Once people realize I won’t tolerate this kind of behavior, they’ll stop.” I moved closer and motioned toward the door of the accessible toilet.
She quickly shook her head. “I was on my way back to the party when he came along.”
I touched her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
She chuckled and nodded. “Absolutely sure. Don’t worry. You came before it got really bad.”
We moved back toward the party together, and after that, I stayed close to her side. I didn’t want another idiot to ruin this day for Emma.
