Romeo The Mafia Casanova

Romeo’s [POV]

His gesture may have been subtle to the room full of people in attendance, but I knew better.

Did he know? Or Assume?

“From this day forth,” Tristian kissed the bruising again and then flipped her hand over, bringing it to his face, cupping his cheek. “I will always be yours. Forsaking family, forsaking all others, you own me, body, mind, and soul.”

My breath hitched as she smiled up at him like she was seeing him for the first time, her eyes filled with tears, her hand pressed against his face.

She mouthed, “I love you,” sufficiently killing something in the depths of my soul as he mouthed it back.

I had to look away, I had no choice, She was killing me, this was killing me.

Their love, their holy union and their fucking matrimony.

It was all dragging me to the ground, burying me alive.

The priest kept talking, and I found I couldn’t tear my focus away from her wrist or the way she would rub it self-consciously like she could rub the sin away.

The mistake, the regret, the memory & Me.

“I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs. Tristian Sinacore.” The old priest beamed. “You may now kiss your bride!”

Tristian wasted no time in pulling Eden into his arms; his mouth slammed down onto hers with near violence as she parted her lips and welcomed him into her.

Just like she would tonight.

Just like she’d done to me last night.

He’d be inside her.

He’d be pleasuring her.

Would she scream his name while dreaming of mine? Or was this really the end? Part of me needed it to be the end, while another sinister part said it was just the beginning of my obsession with her need.

I kept my eyes trained on the happy couple, my hands folded behind my back, my smile frozen on my face as Tristian pulled away, only to change his mind and press another kiss to her mouth; he lingered there in that sensual space that existed after two mouths meet and decide they want to do it again only to tease one another with each breath before one of them leans in once more.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Her eyes lit up with joy. “I love you too.”

He lifted her into his arms, facing the congregation amidst cheers, whistling, and then walked down the aisle while she laughed.

I clenched my teeth and followed the rest of the wedding party out, careful to keep a slight smile of amusement teasing my lips when, in reality, I wanted to die inside.

I couldn’t decide which one of us had given the final blow that destroyed whatever was left between us.

Was it when they kissed?

Was it when he touched her bruises?

Was it when she told him she loved him?

Or was it the night before when I told her I didn’t love her?

I’d been a bystander to my own death and destruction, and the pain was still burning alive inside me, threatening to spill over into a war of chaos where my white flag was up.

I surrendered, Gave up, Game over, No do-overs, No second chances, No love for me.

Not in this life.

With a curse, I left the church lobby and went into one of the Sunday school rooms. I’d left my Glock hidden so I wouldn’t have to explain to the priest why I was packing next to the communion table. It was one of the first times in years where I’d actually chosen not to wear my gun.

I knew it bothered Eden, I could keep her safe without a gun.

It was her wedding day.

So even though she didn’t know, I did, and that made all the difference, or it had.

“Knock, knock.” Tristian rapt his knuckles against the wood door, then crossed his arms. “You feeling okay?”

“Course.” I snapped out the answer, waving my gun at him. “Just left this in here next to the crayons and goldfish. Why?”

His eyes flickered from my gun to the scratches on my neck and lingered there for a good five seconds as if he wanted me to know he saw.

He knew, He might even slightly understand, I shifted on my feet. “Tristian?”

His gaze fell to me. “I’m only going to say this once.”

“Good, because I’m starving, and I’m about three seconds away from stealing the goldfish and animal crackers in that cupboard.”

“Stealing from children, how typical.” He moved farther into the room, his posture rigid, his eyes fuming despite his sarcasm.

“Well?” I leaned against one of the tables littered with construction paper and more art supplies.

He eyed the scissors, not promising.

“She’s mine now.” He looked over at me. “You understand that, right?”

I jerked back, never expecting him to say that.

“Answer me, Romeo.”

I put my hands up in a surrendering gesture. “Whoa, man, I don’t know what you’re accusing me of.”

“The past you have with my wife stays in the past, including whatever history you and Eden may have had. Consider it nonexistent.” He stepped toward me, getting right in my face. “She’s my wife now, brother. Are you understanding me?”

With a rigid stature, I replied, “Loud and clear, brother. Loud and fucking clear.”

He turned and gave me such a pitiful look that I’d prefer getting punched in the face. “Want to know why you’ll always be second place when it comes to Eden, Romeo?”

I cocked my head, arching an eyebrow. “Enlighten me, Tristian,” I said dryly.

He let out a snicker, “Because there’s only room for one person in that dark heart of yours-you.”

I flinched. “Some might say that’s how I stay alive.”

“Some might ask if you’re really living.” He took a few steps toward me again and then jerked his chin up. “Next time, have the fucking decency to at least cover up the scratches from whatever whore you were with last night-the last thing Eden needs is to be reminded of what you do and how you do it.”

My nostrils flared. Did he know? Was he baiting me? I gripped the table with my fingers to keep myself from wrapping them around his neck. “Or what?”

“If you touch her again,” he continued. “I’ll put a bullet between your eyes.”

I burst out laughing. “Did you rehearse that? You almost had me there. Don’t worry, brother, the last person I want to touch is your precious virginal wife; I’d compare that experience to fucking a corpse.”Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

“Tristian,” Eden’s voice filled the room. “They need us for pictures.”

Slowly I turned toward her.

She was furious, hurt, Beautiful and His.

“Eden, you’re a beautiful bride,” I whispered as agony washed over me, through me, around me. Taking me whole, holding me captive.

“Don’t you mean corpse bride?” she snapped, and then as if deciding I wasn’t worth it, she brought her attention to my brother, her smile bright. “You ready?”

“I’ve been ready my whole life, Eden.” Tristian shot me one last look and then joined her, wrapping an arm around her body and leading her out of the room.

I’d been wrong.

The final break hadn’t taken place during the vows or even during the kiss or the I love yous.

No, it had just occurred.

And I’d been the one to do it.

My relationship with them both would never be the same, and all I had to do was look in the mirror to know the person responsible for it. This was the moment our dynamic changed into something unrecognizable. The broken pieces of our hearts shattered into a kaleidoscope of black and white when we used to be nothing but bright, blinding color.

Crashing to the floor by our feet.