Indebted to the Mafia King

Cal

The Basilica of St. Patrick's Old Cathedral hums with excitement. Murmurs from the intimate crowd waiting in the pews whisper through the air, rising to the impressive ceilings as sunlight fans through the stained glass.

I'm sweating balls in the tuxedo Tony insisted I wear. It fits like a glove-perfectly tailored-which Tony said was because his tailor is Italian, and they always know best.

In fact, Tony's wife, Chloe, and her mob wife minions put this wedding together for us down to the smallest detail. I don't know half of the gathered crowd, but judging by the cheetah print and hair gel, most of these people are Saints in some way.

The Irish Kings stand out, however, because they're lining every exit-armed to the teeth.

Tony stalks over to where I'm standing near the altar waiting for the ceremony to begin. He glances around, leaning in to say, "I've got guys outside."

"Thanks," I grumble, tugging at my tie.

He looks toward the crowd. I know he feels the same way I do about this very public spectacle. Not only are we prime targets for other crime families, but the feds are probably stationed nearby, waiting for any one of us to do something worthy of an arrest.

I check my watch for the thousandth time. Tony is the only one standing beside me. Heidi keeps her circle small, and while she's made friends with some of the Irish Kings' wives and girlfriends over the past few months, she decided to ditch the notion of bridesmaids.

She's not a fanfare type of woman. We nearly eloped, actually, and in retrospect, that may have been a better idea than having a church wedding in the center of Manhattan with a reception at the Ritz to follow, but here I am regardless, waiting on my bride, praying shots don't start firing the second she starts walking down the aisle.

I lean into Tony, whispering, "Any news about the Russian problem?"

"The Triads made it sound worse than it was," Tony grumbles. "Whoever this Oleg character is, his faction within the Russian mob is closed off. He's moving in secret and not disturbing my territory by any means. It sounds like his issues are completely internal."

My brows raise. "Nothin' like a little infighting to keep things interesting, I guess." Tony chuckles at the same moment organ music starts to wail, cutting through the whispered conversations taking place in the pews.

Tony hops down from the platform and moves toward his family, standing beside his wife and children in the front row.

The doors swing open, revealing a vision in white lace, escorted toward me with her grandparents on either side.

Heidi looks like something out of my wildest dreams. I feel almost giddy, unable to stop the delirious smile spreading from cheek to cheek as she beams at me, tears in her lovely eyes. Her dress is stunning-a true work of art-but it's not what I expected her to wear by any means. I imagined her in silk, something simple that highlighted her curves. Better yet, something I could easily get my hands beneath on the ride home from the reception after an evening spent dying to touch her, to taste her, to hold my wife.

This dress screams the Italian wives got ahold of her and dragged her to their seamstress of choice.

She looks like a princess.

I smile, shaking my head as she nears, her veil trailing behind her as the women in the crowd ooh and awe.

"You take care of her, you hear?" her grandpa says, shaking my hand before kissing Heidi's cheek, tears gleaming in his eyes.

Her granny is too beside herself to even function and is led back to the pews without saying much other than that she loves Heidi, and me, of course. I've become a family favorite, the sweet Irish boy who flirts with the old ladies at their retirement community in exchange for hard candy and cookies, much to Heidi's annoyance and everyone else's amusement.

Her family doesn't know what I really do, and we mean to keep it that way. I bought us a brownstone, preparing to welcome in the next phase of my life as a husband and father. Our kids might figure out where the money comes from one day, but today... "Look at you," I whisper against her veil, ignoring the fact we have a crowd of people and a priest watching us. Heidi blushes, trying to look unfazed. "What're you wearing under all those layers of lace?"

"You told me you'd be on your best behavior today, Cal," she whispers, trying and failing to shoot daggers up at me.

"You look beautiful," I tell her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"So do you,” she echoes as the priest begins to ramble to the crowd.

I steal a glance over my shoulder, wondering how many steps it'll take me to get from

the altar to the door with Heidi and her giant dress in my arms.

"Want to get out of here? I know a place."

"Oh, yeah?" she says, her voice hushed.

"It's this seedy little Irish bar. No frills. Your shoes might stick to the carpet, and the bartender's missing some teeth, but it has the best pours of Guinness this side of the Atlantic."

"Do you take all the girls there?" she teases.

"Just one." I look into her eyes. "Just my wife."

She squeezes my hand, turning her head toward the priest.

If you're loving the book, nel5s.com is where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience-all for free. The next chapter is eagerly waiting for you! Hours later, full of champagne, I pick my way through the crowded, upscale ballroom in search of my bride. Music blares as the reception shifts from quiet elegance to an all out party, with the Saints and Kings dancing and mingling like we haven't been at war against each other as much as we've been allies.

I spot Heidi teetering in her heels as she mingles. She senses my presence and looks up, locking eyes, and smiles.

It was a beautiful wedding; money well spent.

Now, I'm ready for an Irish Goodbye.

"No one will even know we've left," I whisper against her temple while carrying her out to a car parked around the corner from the hotel. People walking in the street stop to look at us-a bride and groom making their grand escape-and shout congratulations or cheer.noveldrama

I ignore them, throwing the back door open and shoving her and her dress inside. The driver turns his head, asking where we'd like to go.

"Home," Heidi and I say at the same time, and he rolls up the partition.

"I love you," she says breathlessly as I slide in beside her, slamming the door.

"I love you-"

"Please, for the love of God, help me get out of this dress."

This is the end of Cal and Heidi's story, but I'll be back soon with another couple! Thanks for reading.