they were, a wedding in progress. All that remained were the vows.
Matty took her right hand, holding it as he gazed at Genna beside him in a little black dress she'd taken from a stranger's closet. She was nervous. He could tell. Her left hand clutched a tiny rose bouquet so tightly her knuckles glowed. He hadn't spoken a single word yet but tears already brimmed her eyes.
"We've been through a lot," he said, not sure where to start, but it was enough to send the tears streaming down her cheeks. "More than most people go through in a lifetime. The world tried to tear us apart in the worst ways, but we didn't let it, and I know I'll never let it, because you are my world now. No matter what happens, I'll always be here for you. I'd follow you to the end of the Earth and back again, if I had to, if you needed me to. I wouldn't hesitate. I love you."
Genna tried to wipe away her tears with her arm, still clinging to the bouquet. Matty reached over, brushing them off her cheeks, as the minister motioned for her turn.
"I love you, too," she said, staring at him, her mouth opening and closing a few times, like the words were caught inside of her. Damn near a minute of silence passed before her face contorted and she let out a cry loud enough to startle their makeshift witness. "Ugh, that's all I've got!"
"Ah, come on, that was weak," Matty said playfully. "I know you've got something else in you."
"Matteo," she whispered. "Kind of rhymes with potato."
Matty laughed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to him. "Good enough for me."
"Fucking hormones," she whined into his chest. "Yours was perfect and mine's over here all jumbled in my brain and I don't know what to say except I love you, I really do… I love you more than chocolate cake with strawberry icing."
"With chocolate sprinkles?"
"Don't push it."
He kissed the top of her head before turning to the minister. "What's next?"
The old man smiled. "Rings."
Matty frowned. "Got none of those yet."
"Then I suppose that's it," the man said. "By the power vested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."
Matty cupped Genna's chin with one of his hands, the other still around her. Slowly, he leaned down, kissing her, taking his time to savor the moment.
"Mrs. Barsanti," he whispered against her lips, loud enough only for her to hear.
"I'm not taking your last name," she whispered back.
"I don't blame you," he said. "So, how about that honeymoon now?"
"You can suck your own dick in the Honda."
"Tempting, but I was thinking about Paris, actually."
"Paris?"
"Paris Hotel and Casino," he whispered. "How about we go see that other Eiffel Tower?"
Chapter Nine
Soho.
Dante could count the number of times he'd visited the neighborhood on one hand. He'd driven through it while on missions from his father. Once, he threw caution to the wind and went home with a girl who lived there. And then there was that time, not long ago, when he confronted the Barsanti brothers, when he'd lost control and somebody ended up dead.
It was a mistake, he knew. He'd had no business going to Soho.
It was just asking for trouble.
So why, yet again, did he find himself there?
There, on the wrong side of that invisible boundary. It was pointless now, he figured. Nowhere was safe. He'd been attacked in East Harlem, somewhere the Barsantis just didn't go. That had all changed, though, because of Matteo. He'd flown into town in that goddamn red sports car, violating every rule the families had established, blurring lines and inviting himself where he didn't belong.
Dante didn't blame Genna. She'd been innocent. She didn't know what their world was like. She didn't remember. But Matteo should've known better.
Because of him, everything was different.
Dante hesitated on the sidewalk in front of the brick building, gazing up at the faded sign near the entrance. The Place.
Here goes nothing.
Opening the door, Dante stepped inside the busy bar. Chatter echoed throughout the place, dozens of men hanging around, socializing. There was almost a happy undercurrent, an excited buzz in the air, but it didn't last long.
Someone noticed him, recognizing his face, and that was all it took. The whispers started, passed along from person to person like a game of Telephone. It was so blatant that Dante trailed the gossiping with his eyes.