Nicoli: Chapter 21

Every girl wants a fairy tale wedding. A white dress, beautiful flowers, hundreds of guests, champagne towers, and a four-tier cake. Everything will be perfect, from the red carpet rolled down the aisle between the church pews to the delicate sunlight shining through the colored glass of a cathedral rich with history. The day would be filled with moments that become memories that would last a lifetime.

It’s a day I’ve dreamt about my entire life.

And now here I am, living the exact opposite. I’m not wearing a white wedding gown. In fact, I’m not wearing a dress at all. There are no flowers except the pink potted orchid on the coffee table. There are no champagne towers, just half an empty bottle of bourbon and dirty glasses. The living room is not a church, and there’s no sunlight shining through the clear windows because it’s twenty minutes to midnight.

It’s all wrong and distorted. There’s only one thing about this that comes close to the dream, and that’s Nicoli standing next to me. The only difference is he looks indignant and not at all like a man in love. Same goes for me. I’m not the blushing bride I always thought I’d be. I’m scared. Uncertain. Insecure. And I’m still reeling from almost getting raped in a parking lot. Yet here I am…about to marry the man I’ve loved virtually my entire life, and we’re both fucking miserable.

Tears burn the back of my eyes while I listen to the priest recite scripture about how sacred marriage is. The Dark Sovereign might have this priest on their payroll, but he insisted that the marriage ceremony take place, or he won’t put his signature on the backdated wedding certificate. It’s like getting God’s stamp of approval on committing a felony. I guess that makes it better, then. Not.

“Nicoli Del Rossa, do you take Mirabella Tirelli to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and to honor her all the days of your life?”

My insides coil tight.

“I do.” There wasn’t a single second’s hesitation, and one would find it comforting if it didn’t sound like he was accepting a business proposal.

The priest turns to me, and my stomach turns.

“Mirabella Tirelli, do you take Nicoli Del Rossa to be your husband? Do you promise to be faithful to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and to honor him all the days of your life?”

A giant lump in my throat comes out of nowhere, and I try to swallow it. I glance down at my ankle-high boots and black tights, the sight making this moment even more depressing.

I wipe away a tear and clench my jaw, trying to keep my shit together so we can just get this over with.

Straightening my shoulders, I lift my chin and look the priest in the eye. “I do.”

The priest nods. “What God joins together, let no one put asunder.”

I almost scoff at his choice of a blessing.

“Do we have the rings?”

An awkward silence settles, and I can practically hear everyone cringing around us.

Nicoli clears his throat. “I don’t have a ring, exactly.” He reaches into his pocket and reveals the white ribbon.

“Is that—” I place my hand on my chest “—what I think it is?”

He nods, the slightest hint of a smile curling at the edges of his lips.

My heart leaps inside my chest at one of the few things I do remember of my childhood. The sunny Sunday afternoon. The shade of the maple tree. Nicoli tossing stones into the grass. And the promise I tied with that ribbon around his finger.

His eyes find mine, and for a second, all of this doesn’t feel like a disaster. Not while he looks at me as if I’m the only person in the room while holding such a big part of our bond.

“I, um…” I glance around. “I don’t have anything we can use for you. Oh, wait.” I reach back and slide the black hairband from my ponytail. “Will this work?”

Nicoli smiles. “It’s perfect.”

“Well, this is definitely unique,” the priest says, and Nicoli smirks with a devilish grin.

“Father, everything about this is unique.”

As the priest finishes his blessing, Nicoli carefully takes the ribbon and loops it around my ring finger, securing it with a crooked bow. “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your faithful and loving husband, as God is my witness.”

His hand lingers on mine as he stares at the white silk—a piece of my childhood that has now become a token of our bond. I feel a warmth spreading through me at his touch.

“It’s perfect,” he murmurs. “Just like you.” How he looks at me leaves my knees weak and my heart pounding in my chest. I have no idea how he did it, but somehow Nicoli has managed to make a tiny part of this charade okay, especially when the feel of his hand on mine is electric.

I look up at Nicoli, my heart beating a little faster. His dark eyes are full of intensity, and for a moment, I feel like we’re the only two people in the world. The priest clears his throat, and I remember that I’m supposed to do my part now, too.

My hand shakes as I take the thin and flimsy hairband, knitting it around his finger twice. “With this ring, I seal my promise to be your faithful and loving wife, as God is my witness.” A single tear drips down my cheek. Every word I just said feels real. True. As if poured out of my heart and into the open space between us. And I can’t look at him because I don’t want to see the lie.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Heat rushes up my neck, and I awkwardly glance at the priest. “There’s no need for us—”

Nicoli grabs my cheeks in his palms, pulls me close, and kisses me without warning. I’m frozen, only to be warmed by his lips a second later. It’s not just any kiss, this sizzling connection of his mouth on mine. It’s passionate, fierce, and dizzying—every cell in my body alive with electricity. It’s words, declarations, and promises all rolled up into a single kiss that takes my breath away. My heart swells. There’s something about this moment that’s so real, and I allow myself to get carried away by it. My blood sings, and my soul hums to a tune that feels a lot like love, and I force myself not to forget what this truly is—a show and a sham—but I fail miserably. I fail because deep down there’s a flickering light of truth, the bright beam of the possibility that this kiss means so much more than just a solution to a threatening war.

Our lips part, but Nicoli doesn’t move away. He slides one hand to the back of my neck, cradling it gently, bowing his head to brush his lips against my ear. “You kept your promise, Hummingbird,” he whispers, and for a moment, I’m confused, my thumb toying with the ribbon around my finger. But then I remember the words I spoke that one sunny afternoon.

“I promise that if I haven’t found my prince by my twenty-second birthday, I will be your princess. And you know I always keep my promises.”

Overwhelmed by emotion, I suck in a breath, feeling the warmth of my tears soak through my cheeks. It’s five minutes to midnight. It’s still my birthday—my twenty-second birthday, just like I had promised.

Nicoli places a kiss just below my earlobe. “Serendipity…or fate?”

A shiver travels down my spine, my chest open and bleeding with so many emotions it’s flooding my system and consuming my soul.

It’s only when Caelian starts whistling that we’re both pulled back to the living room filled with the weight of a threat that looms over us all as a family.

Alexius walks up and slips a thick roll of money into the priest’s hands, thanking him and showing him out. My mind is hazy, my thoughts a jumbled mess as reality comes to destroy the moment that had me wrapped up in a fantasy I wish with all my heart were true.

“Everything’s been arranged,” Alexius says as he walks back in. “The marriage certificate will be backdated. Your marriage status will be updated on all systems within the next hour, and a new identity document showing Mira’s name change will be delivered in forty-eight hours.”

I stiffen, and I think Nicoli senses it.

“We should discuss these matters in private,” he says to Alexius, and they walk to the side of the room.

A name change didn’t even cross my mind when this bomb got dropped on me. Mirabella Del Rossa. It was a game I often played as a teenager, where I would use a curtain or a towel as a veil, stare at myself in the mirror and introduce myself to make-belief guests at my wedding as Mirabella Del Rossa.

Maximo steps in beside me. “Are you okay?”

“That’s a stupid question.”

“I know, but I’m asking it anyway.”

I look up at him. “Are you sure this will work?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Because the only reason I agreed to do this is because you said this is the best solution. And I trust you.”

He shifts from one leg to the other. “I don’t like this any more than you do, Mira. But this is the only way to prevent a war between us and the Ferreros.”

“I just don’t understand how being married to Nicoli would make it all okay. Almost getting raped isn’t okay, whether I’m married or not.”

“It’s not that simple, Mira.”

“It should be.”

“Things work differently in our world.”

“Then I don’t want to be a part of this world.”

Maximo sighs. “You already are. And after tonight, you always will be.”

“What? Oh, no. There’s no forever here, Maximo. As soon as all this is over, Nicoli and I will get a divorce and pretend like none of this ever happened.”

“Like fuck we will.”

I swirl around and find Nicoli standing two feet away, his eyes so intense I can feel the smoldering heat melt my flesh and penetrate my bones.

“None of this is real, Nicoli,” I say, my voice sounding far less confident than it should.

Nicoli grabs my hand, and I’m forced to follow him out of the living room, where he pins me between the wall and his body. “We’re not getting a divorce,” he says simply as if another option just doesn’t exist.

“This isn’t real,” I bite out under my breath. “This is nothing but a sham, and the only reason we got married is because we have no other choice.”

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. “I’m going to repeat what I just said. We’re not getting a divorce.”

“For as long as there’s a threat, yes.”

“You’re not hearing me,” he grits out. “We just got married and said our vows before God.”

“By a priest who got paid a roll of cash not even thirty seconds after he announced us as husband and wife.”

“Has tonight taught you nothing?”

“Yeah, it did. It taught me that you do a really fucking good job at walking away from me, leaving me alone outside of that goddamn club where I almost got raped.” I regret saying it the moment the words leave my mouth.

He winces as if I had just lodged a dagger in his back. “You think I don’t know that?”

“Nicoli, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“You think I don’t hate myself for leaving you out there alone? That I’m not aware of how I failed you…again?” He spits out the last word as if it’s acid on his tongue. “I was angry. I walked away. And you got hurt. I’ll never forgive myself for that. It’s fucking ironic, really, how I always fail at the one thing God has placed me on this fucking Earth to do, and that’s to protect you. I stayed away from you, fought my feelings for you every goddamn day, suffered in silence because I couldn’t be with the only woman I’ve ever loved, the woman who carried my motherfucking heart in the palm of her hand without knowing it. And I still failed.” He brings his face inches from mine, the blue depths of his irises threatening to drown me. “So tonight, I’ve come to the conclusion that if protecting you is this impossible to do apart, then I’ll make sure to do it right with us…together.”

“What are you saying?”

He leans closer, his breath like a ghost’s whisper against the shell of my ear. “You are my wife now, Hummingbird. ‘Til death do us part.”