Broken Crown Page 5

  Valerian soon follows with Tank close by.

  And it’s all I can do to just stand there while they surround me. I imagined my bachelor party vastly different from this, but I can’t find it in my heart to be upset when I’m surrounded by family and best friends.

  “C’mon,” Valerian starts shoving me away. “Stop being a weak ass pussy and at least get in the ring with one of us until you’re too drunk to stand up.”

  “Still beat your ass,” I say.

  He shoves me.

  I laugh.

  And things feel a bit more normal when I’m with my boys except for the fact that I’m left wondering what Del’s doing.

  And who she’s doing things with.

  “Stop!” Ash bats me on the back of the head. “Every time you make that face, I’m making you drink.”

  “Drink, drink!” Valerian, my brother, shouts.

  And for the first time in days, I give them a genuine smile.

  Chapter Eight

  “And all I loved. I loved alone.” —Edgar Allan Poe

  Del

  “Stop.” I shove Roman away gently. “I’m just not… I can’t.”

  His kisses feel good.

  We’re alone in my bedroom. Everyone in the house is either drunk or in bed, and I should be happy. I mean, he’s with me, kissing me, loving me… but I can’t. I just can’t.

  “Sweetheart…” Roman kisses my cheek. “I just want you to go into tomorrow feeling good, feeling me, knowing who you love, who loves you—”

  “Yeah.” I sit up in bed. “I know.”

  “Do you, though?” He’s shirtless, his six-pack on full display. The man isn’t even flexing, and he’s toned and gorgeous, but I can’t stop thinking about the wedding night and the archaic thing my stupid uncle asked for.

  “Proof,” he said. “I want proof that they’ve actually been together.”

  Tex looked ready to murder everyone in the room. “Are you dumb enough to think she’s a virgin?”

  “Proof,” he demanded again.

  Tex rolled his eyes. “We aren’t putting cameras in there; that’s bullshit, creepy, wrong on so many levels and—”

  “A blood oath,” I spoke up like an idiot. “We’ll both give a blood oath that we’ll sleep together, bringing both Families together, possibly a child.” I literally choke out that last word. “Won’t that satisfy everyone?”

  My mom taught me well, despite the fact that all of this feels so wrong, like drinking poison and smiling while it drips down your throat.

  “Yes.” My uncle lifted his chin like he won like he had pride for me when he was only ever slightly better than my dead father. God, I hoped one of the other Families killed him.

  Truly.

  “Great,” said Tex, every inch our Capo in that moment. “I’ll agree to the terms as long as I have your consent, Del. I want you to be comfortable, as you know these terms come from your uncle. I don’t care if you ever see my child’s naked ass. This is an arranged marriage, and everything is on your terms.”

  I loved that man. I wished he was my dad.

  Then again, he would be soon.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll agree to the terms as long as King does.”

  King stood stock-still.

  His hands clenched at his sides like it would be physically painful to see me naked and attempt to get it up.

  I tried not to look offended.

  I tried to look strong.

  But it hurt like hell that the actual thought of him sleeping with me made him that angry.

  “Hey…” Roman brushes the hair away from my face. “Where do you go when you look like that? It makes me worried, like really worried something’s wrong, and you’re not telling me.” He starts to smile; it’s beautiful—he’s beautiful. “You realize that your soon-to-be husband just gave us permission to be together? And that I get to be at your side twenty-four-seven without losing my spot with your uncle, right? We should be celebrating!”

  Yay, this is me celebrating. “I know,” I say softly. “It’s just a lot to take in. I have a big day tomorrow, and I think I’m just tired.”

  I know he can tell I’m lying.

  He wraps me in his arms. His body is so warm I shiver against his skin and lie down. My silk pillow sinks down, and his legs, as they always do, tangle in mine. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

  A tear slides down my cheek. I hope he doesn’t feel it.

  Another follows. “I know.”

  “I love you.”

  I choke out the words. “I love you too.”

  “Everything is going to be fine. I respect King. He’s a good man.”

  I don’t respond.

  I know what he says is right.

  And maybe…

  Maybe that’s the problem.

  Chapter Nine

  “The depth lies in the valleys where we seek her, and not upon the mountain tops where she is found.” —Edgar Allan Poe

  King

  The Wedding Day

  I’m puking my guts out.

  It’s not pretty, not that puke ever is.

  And it’s not because I was up late getting high or wasted—I actually crashed early and woke up to the rest of the guys still drunk, which did make me laugh for a short minute before I realized it was my wedding day.

  Which brings us back to the toilet, my puke, and the fact that I can’t keep anything down.

  A knock sounds at the door as I’m brushing my teeth. We’re leaving for our honeymoon today, so I already have all my shit, my toothbrush included on top of my mouthwash, so I’m able to actually pull myself together in that church bathroom when really I want to go back to the toilet and do a little worship.

  Hallelujah.

  “Hey,” a voice says, and then another, harder knock before the door bursts open, and I see Chase, my uncle for lack of better terms, scary-as-shit senator, Ash’s dad, and basically the best bro to the President of the United States.

  “Yo,” I say because I have no brain cells left after puking said brains out.

  He looks me up and down, and I study him in return. His hair is jet black, some gray peppers throughout it, and his jaw is firm like he’s been clenching it for the last decade. In another life, he could have been a model, an actor. Tattoos swirl up around his neck as he crosses his arms. His bright blue eyes lock on, and I know he’s about to get serious.

  “Sit.” He pulls the toilet seat down and points.

  It’s in the third stall.

  The biggest one of all three of them.

  He closes the door.

  “You killing me on my wedding day? At least make the cut super deep, so I don’t spend too much time bleeding out before asphyxiating.” I sit on the toilet and lean my arms on my legs.

  “I get it.” He ignores my joke completely. “Trust me, I do.”

  I look away. “You still got your happy ever after, though.”

  His first wife was killed. She betrayed the Families but, in the end, saved a lot of lives. Chase still mourned her death, as did his current wife and his kids, but it changed the Families. Her actions changed everything despite the way everyone mourned what she could have been—what she could be had she made a different choice.

  Fuck, it feels full circle as I sit in that bathroom.

  He made a sacrifice all those years ago—aligning the Families.

  This was mine. My sacrifice.

  I need to be stronger than he was, not that he wasn’t, but this is different. I’m going to be the Capo of all the Families.

  All of them.

  I can’t be weak, so I sit straighter. I tell myself that all the jokes and fun, the sleeping around, the laughter—they have to die just like my dream of marrying someone who loves me the same way I love them.

  I blink.

  I stare up at Chase and inwardly scream.

  I go to hell and back.

  I return to that stall.

  And I stare straight ahead, my fists clenched.

  I’ll do my job.

  And I’ll do it fucking well.

  “Pull it together,” Chase says in an even voice. He tosses a towel at me.

  I wipe my mouth. I’ve already brushed my teeth for the third time and nearly choked to death on mouthwash.

  “You’ll be fine.”

  I stand. “I know. I have no other choice, right? Whatever sacrifice you’re asked to make, you make it.”

  “You make it,” he echoes. “But that doesn’t make it easier, and it doesn’t mean you can’t have a few weak moments where you question everything.”

  Surprise takes over my face before I can stop it. He smiles.

  And then he’s walking toward me like he’s about to hug me. I almost shove him away, but instead, for some reason, I just stand there as one of the scariest motherfuckers in existence wraps his arms around me and holds me tight.

  I relax.

  I breathe.

  And then I speak my fear. “What if I can’t do it?”

  “That’s not a current option.” He releases me and then thumbs my chin up with his finger. “But you’re Tex’s son… you’ll be fine. Maybe all you need is to try not to look so in love with the girl you’re about to marry, so you don’t look weak?”

  “I’m not in love.”

  He laughs, like a huge guffaw, a belly laugh that makes me want to kick him in the dick. “Oh wow, okay, sorry, that was a good joke.” He slaps me on the cheek lightly. “You know you could always seduce her.”

  I roll my eyes. “It’s against my moral compass.”

  He recoils, shooting me an amazed gaze. “You have one of those? What’s it feel like? I’ve always wondered.”

  I laugh despite the stress of the situation. “Wow, Dad of the Year, huh?”

  “The best.” He winks. “And for what it’s worth, King. You’re going to do great. And nothing, and I do mean nothing works better than treating her like the queen she is. There’s nothing morally wrong about that.”

  I perk up a bit. “You’re right.”

  “I’m literally always right. It’s almost scary.” He turns around, then back, and snaps his fingers. “Oh, and at the end of the day, a bagel never hurts.”

  “Huh?” I ask.

  He bursts out laughing and mutters. “Ah, youths…”

  “Youths?” I repeat.

  He checks his Rolex. “Time to get married.”

  “Wait, rewind, what’s this about bagels?” I ask as he ushers me out of the bathroom, still laughing. His wife Luc intercepts us in the hallway.

  Luc takes one look at us, and her eyes narrow. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, making her appear more severe as she glances between us. “You’re late. Both of you.”

  Chase holds up his hands and grins. “Sorry, we were talking about food.”

  “Food?” she asks, a frown creasing her forehead. “Wait, is he hungry? Are you hungry?” She would live her life feeding people if she could. “Because I can run to the church kitchen and—”

  Chase kisses the next few words away from her mouth. “Nah, just talking about bagels.”

  She gasps, her face flashes red. “Wh-what? for?”

  “No reason.” He kisses her again. “Let’s go, King, time to get married.”

  My stomach knots up again. I’m also confused because… bagels? What the hell? I make a mental note to ask everyone once I’m back from my honeymoon, completely confused why that word would make her blush and a bit horrified that they have an inside joke about bread as I follow them.

  I haven’t seen her yet, Del.

  My dad’s waiting by the door to the church, wearing a smile on his face that shows me he knows why I feel nervous and that it’s okay.

  The girls, my cousins—friends are all dressed in their beautiful white bridesmaid dresses. Each of them picked something in a different style but the same color. All of them look gorgeous, and I’ve yet to get to the main event.

  Del.

  I have to tell myself again that this isn’t real, that all of this is a perfectly placed political move in order to keep everyone safe, finally end a stupid war, and align the Families.

  But as the music hits a crescendo and as the doors open for my dad and me to walk in, all I keep thinking is.

  Her.

  Mine.

  Marriage.

  Forever.

  I adjust my tie as my dad pounds my back a few times in a total bro way that guys do when they’re uncomfortable or about ready to cry.

  I smile and walk down the aisle as people hold up their phones. Cameras flash. Music continues to reach the tops of the Catholic Church.

  We’re going to make it work.

  We have no other choice.

  Roman is at the end of the aisle sitting in the front pew, his earpiece in, playing the part of bodyguard, and I imagine a world where he’s not going to turn around the minute Del comes down the aisle and look at her in such a way that she doesn’t look at me.

  I burn. I fucking burn—my hands, my feet, my body. Jealousy takes over so fierce that I have to clench my fists the entire twenty-six steps I take to the altar. I think I would rather be shot than watch Roman turn in his seat.

  The music changes swiftly.

  I feel sick to my stomach.

  Everyone stands.

  I will love you anyway. I repeat it over and over again. I want to make it better, but I can’t. You can’t control a bullet that’s already hit the heart. If she knew, if she truly knew, she’d feel bad, and her look would be pity instead of pleasure.

  My future officially fades into nothingness as the doors open, and all I see is her.

  I try to keep my composure—it’s my job, after all.

  She’s so fucking pretty it makes my chest hurt. Her dress has the longest train I’ve ever seen, with pretty lace dancing along the edges. It matches the sleeves that go down to her wrists and the open neck that shows just enough cleavage that I’m not sure if I should look away or just drink her in.

  “It’s easy,” I said.

  “What?” She looked at me, her eyes confused. “What’s easy?”

  “Loving you. I think it would be easy.”

  She laughed.

  I didn’t.

  “You don’t even know, do you?”

  “What?” Her smile faltered.

  “How amazing you are. Can be. What I would do to you.” I touched her chin; I lifted it. She didn’t shy away.

  “Mine,” I said. “One day, you’ll be mine.”

  “And if I’m another’s?” She challenged.

  I laughed and leaned in. “Good joke. Almost had me there.”

  Her nostrils flared. Her lips pressed together, and I knew in that moment that mouth would only ever be mine.

  I blink.

  And then I realize she’s wearing a crown and not just any crown, but one from her family, one her mom wore when she married her dad. The importance isn’t just significant in aligning the Families; it was the only thing her mom left to her. When her mom died, Del used to sleep with it under her pillow to feel close to her.

  She used to talk to that crown.

  She used to confess her happiness, her fears, and when she told me about it, I assumed she wouldn’t wear it, but there she is, wearing a small tiara that means more than anything during this moment.

  It’s her confession to me.

  It’s her worship.

  It’s her surrender.

  And her eyes… her eyes aren’t on me—but Roman.

  Chapter Ten

  “There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in proportion.” —Edgar Allan Poe

  Del

  Chase Abandonato, mafia god, is walking me down the aisle. I try not to panic as people watch as he leans in and does what my stupid dad should have done had he been alive.

  His job.

  I keep my head high and tell myself it’s going to be okay, and I look to Roman, the man I thought I would one day marry, the one I’m walking toward but not to.

  A tear slides down my cheek, though nobody can see it because of the veil covering my face. I momentarily imagine a world where it’s him at the end of the aisle, then immediately feel bad because I love King as a person, a friend, just in a different way than I love Roman.

  He’s incredible.

  He’s protective.

  But if I start thinking about King, I feel like I’m betraying Roman, and it makes my chest hurt despite the fact that I could easily have fallen for King in another life.

  I promise myself I can love them both.

  I promise myself that this is the best option.

  I am selfless.

  I am not bitter.

  I am a woman.

  I am a leader.

  I lift my chin higher.

  “That’s the spirit,” Chase says to my right. “Hold it high.”

  “What?” I whisper.

  “Your head,” he says right back as we almost make it to the altar. “Always hold it high—especially when everyone around you wants you to bow.” We stop; he lifts the veil and strategically wipes my tear, then whispers, “You bow to no one.”

  I lift my chin higher.

  He presses a kiss to each cheek.

  “Thank you.”

  Chase smiles. “The sun will still rise tomorrow.”

  “Who gives this woman?” the priest asks.

  “Me.” Chase turns toward him, almost annoyed. “And…” The room itself almost moves as every one of the bosses from each Family as well as the captains, the made men— basically all of them, including a few women— stand. “The rest of us.”

  “Are you all in agreement?” the priest asks.

  “Yes,” they say in unison.

  I tear up again.

  I’ve never had support. It had always been my mom and me, and then my dad betrayed everyone, and now I’m stuck with my uncle, and it just… it feels like someone just stopped the bleeding like someone said it was okay and put a bandage over my heart.

  I don’t want to let Chase go.

  I stand there longer than I should.

  And I look up at him again like I need him to tell me it’s okay, that it’s going to be okay. He adjusts my veil and whispers again. “Don’t let life make you bitter, Del. Trust us. Trust… your King.”