SWNOVELS Sinners Condemned : Chapter 5
gamble when you think about it. You’re betting half of everything you own that you’ll stay with that person for the rest of your life. How can anyone be so sure?
Rory looks sure.
Sitting a few rows from the back with Matt by my side, I watch Rory work through her vows, partly in disbelief she’s marrying the eldest Devil’s Dip brother, and partly in awe, because she looks so beautiful. She’s a vision in white, although not dressed like a typical bride. Her dress is sleek and simple, most of it hidden by a huge puffer jacket. And when she tip-toes to brush a strand of hair from her soon-to-be husband’s face, I swear I catch a glimpse of a Nike sneaker.
The moment I realized it was Angelo Visconti standing at the top of the aisle, my heart grew heavy with dread. It turns out Rory isn’t marrying just any Visconti, but the one with the most ominous nickname: Vicious.
Oddly enough, Angelo is at the epicenter of one of my most visceral childhood memories. To this day I still don’t know why, but I remember my father dragging me to Alonso and Maria Visconti’s joint funeral when I was eleven. He woke me up before the sun, tugged a pink jumper over my head, and drove us up to the church on the cliff. He gave me a Thermos of hot cocoa and swigged something stronger himself. And then, along with other locals in bright clothes, we watched from the bus shelter across the road as the Devil’s Dip brothers buried their parents.
At some point, Angelo Visconti looked our way, and he clearly didn’t like the drunken, shit-eating smirk on my father’s face.
So he pulled out a gun.
A shiver racks my body at the memory.
“The offer of socks still stands,” Matt whispers in my ear.
“I bet you have the smelliest feet on the planet,” I mutter back. I smirk at his chuckle and turn my attention back to the front.
Until the bride walked down the aisle, I’d been ninety-nine percent certain this marriage wasn’t consensual. But then Angelo slipped his hands around Rory’s waist and murmured something against her forehead, and the way she laughed was so sweet it gave me a toothache. Now, as Angelo repeats his vows, another part of my body aches.
He speaks low and soft, as if he doesn’t give a flying fuck that nobody aside from Rory can hear his oath. The way he looks at her confirms this. It’s like she’s the only person in the Reserve, in the world, and if this were the case for the rest of his life, then he’d be perfectly content with that.
I bring my hand to my chest, reminding my heart of the jaded monologue I spewed to Matt earlier. Love is a trap. I can’t help but wonder, though; would a few years of ignorant bliss really be worse than never feeling bliss at all?
“And for the moment we’ve all been waiting for, ladies and gentleman.” The officiant looks up from his iPad and pauses for dramatic effect. “You may now kiss the bride.”
In a sea of cheers and hollers, Angelo’s hand finds the nape of Rory’s neck and his smirk melts against her lips. Their kiss is so intense, so hot, that I feel like I’m watching it through a hidden webcam in their bedroom. With discomfort prickling my cheeks, I shift in my seat and cut my gaze to the right.
To the side of the arbor, I find a pair of eyes already on me, full of green enchantment that makes the noise around me fade as if it’s coming from a neighbor’s house. I’m pulled in for less than half a second before I glance away, weakened by the silk venom he’d injected into my ear earlier. Catching myself, I look back almost immediately, but it’s too late. He swipes a thumb over his triumphant smirk and turns to mutter something in Nico’s ear.
Why does it feel like I’ve just lost a game I didn’t know we were playing?
Why did I step toward him when he beckoned me?
Squeezing my hands into fists, I rise and push against the tide rushing toward the newlyweds. As much as I’d love to congratulate Rory on her marriage right now, heading toward the arbor would mean heading toward Raphael Visconti, and I’d rather not be within a five-meter radius of his orbit.
Because at the bar, I clearly had trouble resisting its gravitational pull.
Despite smiling and laughing in all the right places during the ceremony, I spent a lot of time rifling through the darkest depths of my brain in an attempt to locate Raphael in my childhood memories.
I don’t understand how I barely remember him. Not even from his parents’ funeral. He’s not exactly…unmemorable. Of course, I was young, and he would have been in his mid-twenties—even older than I am now. I remember Angelo because nobody forgets a face behind a gun, and I remember Gabe, their youngest brother, because who the fuck could say they don’t remember Gabe?
As tuxedos and satin brush past my shoulders, I steal a glance back at Gabe and immediately wish I hadn’t. Christ, he truly is something from a nightmare. He’s even taller and broader than his brothers, and ink spills out unapologetically from underneath every hem, collar, and cuff of his suit. He doesn’t smile, not even at his brother’s wedding. I guess I wouldn’t smile either if I had a scar running from my eyebrow to my chin.
I shudder and step out into the aisle. I’ll head to the bar, grab Matt and me a drink, and wait until the crowd thins to extend my—
“Penny!” The wind carries a feminine trill to my ears, and I turn around to see Rory squeezing through bodies to get to me. We lock eyes and she breaks into a huge grin. “I thought it was you. I’d recognize that red hair anywhere.”
I bring her in for a warm hug, breathing in her sweet scent. “You look so beautiful! Congratulations on your wedding.”
“Yeah, yeah, thank you.” She’s breathless and the lazy swipe of her hand suggests she’s had this conversation a million times today. “Anyway, I had no idea you were back on the Coast. I’d have invited you if I did!” She peers around curiously. “Who are you here with, anyway?”
“Matt Collins.” Rory knows Matt from school, and he also used to help her father around the Preserve with odd jobs, like litter picking and refilling bird feeders. When a devilish smile spreads across her lips, I roll my eyes. “He’s my neighbor, don’t get the wrong idea.”
“Matt’s super nice, so maybe it’s the right idea.”
I laugh, not bothered to burden her with the fact I’m here as a stand-in until Matt’s crush finally notices him. “How about you focus on your own love story today? You can worry about someone else’s tomorrow.”
Her eyes sparkle as they shift over my shoulder. I follow her gaze and find Angelo Visconti staring at her adoringly. “Not tomorrow,” she murmurs, flashing him a shy grin. “Tomorrow, we’ll be on our way to Fiji for our honeymoon.” She drags her attention back to me. “I’ll be back in two weeks. Will you still be here?”
It depends on whether I can find a job here. On whether my sins stay in Atlantic City, or seep across state lines. Of course, I don’t burden the bride with this. “Sure,” I say brightly.
“Then we must catch up properly when I’m back. I’m really excited to hear what you’re up to these days.” She looks up at me through thick, false lashes, and the hollow of my chest fills up with warmth. Rory’s always been so nice, and she truly deserves all the happiness in the world.
I just hope a Visconti can give it to her.
“Aurora!” a voice shoots out from the crowds. Rory’s lids flutter shut, then she gives an apologetic smile. “I better make the rounds. Hopefully I’ll catch you on the dance floor later?”
She kisses my cheek and then floats away.
Before she can get out of arm’s reach, I quickly reach out and grab her upper arm. “What does it feel like?”
She blinks. “What?”
“To be in love?”
I barely believe in it, so I have no idea why I feel compelled to ask the question. Morbid curiosity, perhaps. Like a man asking a woman what it feels like to give birth; it’s an insight to something he’ll never experience.
Surprisingly, Rory doesn’t give me a one-word answer. She drags her eyes up to the darkening sky and chews on her bottom lip.
“It feels like your heart is walking outside of your body.” Her gaze finds Angelo’s again, and I watch in fascination as a pink flush creeps from underneath her necklace. “My heart now wears Armani and has a Glock for every day of the week.”
My fingers slide off her puffer jacket and she slips away.