LITMIR.BIZ

      Christian stood with Zayed and Stefan at his side, his two best men—or, as they were called here in their shared role, his koumbaros—eyes fixed on the chapel door.

      Where was she?

      It was traditional for the bride to be late but half an hour? If Stefan hadn’t taken his phone from him after Christian had texted her to say he was at the chapel, he would have called and demanded to know where she was.

      A face in the congregation caused him momentarily to lose track of his thoughts.

      There in the third row sat Mikolaj, an enormous beam on his face. Beside him sat his wife, Tanya, and three of their seven children.

      Alessandra must have invited them.

      His stomach curled.

       She’d done that for him.

      Christian nodded a greeting to them but was unable to return the smiles.

       Where was she?

      The priest continued to smile reassurance but Christian could see the doubt now plaguing his jovial demeanour.

      At least the chapel belonged to the hotel and thus was owned by him. They would wait.

      Another ten minutes passed. Just as his guts were really starting to churn, the door swung open and there she appeared, the sunshine illuminating her in a golden glow that made the white of her dress sparkle.

      It was like gazing at an angel, a moment so beautiful that the relief that should have overwhelmed him faded into nothing, leaving only wonder.

      The sound of Pachelbel’s Canon in D began, played by the string quartet hired for the occasion.

      Alessandra walked towards him, an ethereal smile on her face, her steps slow.

      His eyes fixed solely on her, it took a good few beats before he registered the arm she held on to.

      Rocco had come. He hadn’t abandoned his sister. Christian’s trip to New York had paid off.

      Behind them walked Olivia, stunning in emerald green.

      As the bridal party stepped closer to him, a lump formed in his throat that grew larger with every one of Alessandra’s steps until she was there before him.

      Unlike most brides, who pinned their hair up into an elaborate creation, she’d left hers loose, tumbling around her shoulders in dark chestnut waves. She looked amazing. Her dress a work of art: thin lace-embellished straps with tiny diamonds curved down and across her cleavage like a heart, the sheer material wrapping around her waist to showcase the flare of her hips, then floating to the floor and resting in a white circle.

      He looked for a sign of apprehension but none was there. Her beautiful honey-brown eyes, artfully made-up, were clear. Remarkably clear.

      He reached out a hand, and as she took it he caught Rocco’s eye. The look he gave said: she’s all yours now. Hurt her and you will spend the rest of your life paying for it.

      He’d never understood the full weight of what ‘giving the bride away’ meant until that moment.

      From here on in, the role of her protector passed to him, an antiquated sentiment, but one he felt keenly.

      Alessandra would never be his possession but for good or for ill they would be bound together.

      The service was anticipated to last around an hour. For the congregation, it no doubt dragged. For Christian, time accelerated, the moment to exchanging their vows speeding up until it was time for them to make their promises to each other—not a requirement of the church but something they had agreed upon between themselves for the benefit of their guests.

      He said his first, then Alessandra recited hers, her husky voice true and strong, her Greek practised and flawless. The look in her eyes, fixed on his, was full of meaning. It was a sight that made his chest feel as if a weight had been placed inside him, squeezing down.

      There was no time to consider it as now was the time for what was, to many Greeks, the most important part of the ceremony: the crowning. The priest blessed the two floral-wreath crowns, then Zayed took the lead, passing the crowns back and forth over them three times before carefully placing them on their heads.

      Finally they were done.

      It was time to kiss the bride.

      He searched again for her apprehension. It was still missing, a smile playing in the corner of her delicious lips. Lips he hadn’t felt upon his since the night they had conceived the child that grew in her belly. Lips he’d spent the past couple of months dreaming of.

      Swallowing away the lump in his throat, he placed a hand to her still-slender hip and leaned down. Her small hand reached up to rest on his lapel.

      He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers, just the breath of a kiss, but enough for the softest mouth he’d ever known to reawaken more memories of their night together and make his pulses race.

      When the kiss ended, the congregation, no doubt led by Mikolaj, burst into applause. Alessandra grinned, her whole face smiling, her happiness transparent. She placed a hand on his shoulder and straightened to whisper into his ear, ‘Thank you.’

      He knew without her having to explain that she was talking about Rocco.

      ‘Thank you,’ he whispered back.

      She’d brought Mikolaj to their wedding. Christian hadn’t thought he wanted him there, thought he hadn’t wanted any associations with his past. He hadn’t appreciated how much it would mean. He’d thought having Stefan and Zayed there would be enough but, no matter how close they all were, Mikolaj had been there his entire life. He was family. Knowing he and Tanya were there to witness it all warmed him right down to his toes.

      A sharp pang of regret rent him that his mother wasn’t there to witness this day too. But, unlike Mikolaj, his mother would have taken

Скачать книгу