I stared at my reflection, adjusting the cufflinks Gio tossed at me like I hadn’t been doing this since I was fifteen. The tux fit like a second skin, tailored to perfection, but I still felt off—like I’d been yanked out of a dream and dropped into a magazine spread for “Most Eligible Mafia Groom.”
This morning had started out perfect. Her skin against mine, her breath warm on my neck, the way she whispered my name like it was a secret only we shared. And then—bam. Girls barged in, giggling, shouting something about hair and makeup and “no peeking.” I hadn’t even gotten to finish kissing her shoulder.
Now I was here, half-hard and half-irritated, trying to look like the happiest man alive while my brother made jokes and our father pretended not to notice.
“You’re brooding,” Gio said, fl
