Romeo The Mafia Casanova

Romeo’s [POV]

Then: On the wedding day I had no words to describe her as she floated down that aisle. In the sickest, darkest part of my mind, she was walking toward me, smiling at me, minutes away from saying she was mine. Taking those vows and uttering them for the world to hear.

And yet… I knew, those footsteps only led toward him.

That smile? Wasn’t for the sinner standing next to the saint.

I rubbed the back of my neck. The scratches from her nails were still there, ugly, raw, and red, and like the sick fuck I was, I left them full-on display. Wearing them like a badge of honor. Was it selfish to want something today? Anything that showed that I had a part of Eden’s heart that he would never get? Fuck it, she was marrying him, at least give me the blood, the tears, the pain, give me the sin over and over again-let me have one fucking thing.

“Nervous?” I asked as the music started.

My brother shot me a knowing grin only to have it falter when his eyes flickered to the side of my neck and back again. “Not really. Because today…she’s mine.”

“Lucky man.” The words tasted like acid. If only he knew that my cock had been inside her less than twelve hours ago, her thighs wrapped around my legs, shouting she was going to come over and over again from her lips.

Would he feel the same? If he knew that the love of his life was divided in two, wanting but knowing it could never be me?

He was a motherfucking consolation prize. And never had I felt so much jealousy in my entire existence.

Her smile was bright, her strapless white dress nearly indecent as it shimmered in the morning light streaming through the colored glass of the St. Mary’s Cathedral, the lace train pooled behind her. I clenched my fists at my sides as she walked arm and arm with her father, a man I loved.

Admired & Respected.

A man who looked so fucking pleased that his only daughter was marrying into the Sinacore family. And I had to ask myself, why him? Why not me?

Because you’d break her until there was nothing left of her. And she’d forgive me until there was nothing left of me. Killing whatever love was left between us.

The music started.

The violins picked up as the doors suddenly opened, and there she was.

Stunning, breathtaking & Mine.

I clutched my fists, this was supposed to end differently.

That smile, that body & that mouth.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

All of her, was mine.

Instead, she was walking toward him.

The only comfort I had was the sick knowledge that while my brother slept-I’d been deep inside her, claiming her, marking her. And he could never take that away from her, from us.

Everyone stood.

She kept her head high as she held on to her father’s arm, and when she finally made it to the altar, all I could think about was sinning some more with her.

Fucking her against the altar, In front of God and Our family.

My brother, Licking up and down those thighs, sucking her until she screamed my name in an unholy confession.

“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” the priest questioned.

“Her mother and I,” her father answered with a wide smile and tears in his eyes. Slowly, he lifted the simple lace veil over her head and kissed her cheek.

The same cheek I’d wanted to assault with my mouth, right next to the neck I’d kissed and licked as I’d held her captive against the wall last night.

I tried to shove the thoughts away.

And then she lifted her hand to her father’s face, and I saw the marks on her creamy skin.

I clenched my jaw so fucking tight my teeth hurt. A slight blue bruise was present on her wrist. They were my fingertips, my assault, my claim.

Today she would marry my brother with the imprint of my hands on her body, and because I was a sadistic son of a bitch, I smiled. At least I was given that.

A gift & A reward.

A fucking reason to not scream from the rooftops that I had been balls deep inside of her in the wee hours of the morning.

Our sin, our love, and our bodies coming together as one was blatant for all to see.

My salvation was being with her at least once before she was given to another.

I did that, I handed her over and I lost her and gave her to my brother.

Knowingly, she would give her body, her soul to him, but she would know, the entire time, that I had her first, I broke her first. And he could never take that away from us and from me.

Let him have the happy ending because I’d had the fucking beginning.

Time stood still as she turned and took Tristian’s hand in hers. He preened like a goddamn peacock as he pulled her to his side and faced the priest.

And me? I simply smiled at them both since this was it, wasn’t it? At least I’d tasted it. I’d bitten. I’d swallowed. I’d sinned. I’d never be saved.

Who would want salvation after tasting the sweetest sin?

The ceremony was a blur as the priest droned on, and when it was time for the vows, I found I was holding my breath, watching, waiting for her to say she couldn’t do this; I half expected her to lose her nerve, but when she opened her mouth.

It wasn’t my name that fell from her lips, it was his, She said it twice.

“Tristian…” A full smile. My body gave an involuntary flinch. “Tristian.”

My fingers twitched at my sides. I held my breath.

Once again waiting, wanting and yearning.

“My vow is simple, my promise to you.” She lifted her chin, her eyes clear, her conscience black as mine. “From this day forward… I’m yours.”

I hated her at that moment and despised her to the core of my being.

Traitor, cheater and a whore.

She promised him the one thing I wanted, and she said it so simply, with such purity amidst the chaos we’d created, we’d participated in, that I wanted to seethe from the inside out.

It was as if she was reminding me by claiming him, as she said from this moment on.

And our moment was yesterday.

She was saying it would never happen again.

Had she shot me, it would have hurt less.

I knew this was my doing. I was the one who told her to marry him. I had rejected her. What else did I expect? I was being irrational, and knowing that I was didn’t stop the emotions that were surging to not come.

“Tristian?” The priest grinned over at my brother.

Tristian reached up and pressed his palm directly over the bruises on her wrist, then lifted that same wrist to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss across my mark.

Across my claim, Motherfucker.