Power (Mafia Ties: Brandon & Carly Book 2) by Fiona Davenport Page A

gift from my mother to his many years ago. He’d thought I might like to have it as my something old instead, and he was right. It meant the world to know a piece of my mom was going to be with me on my wedding day.
    My fingers trembled as they brushed against the silver circle and traced the golden pin crossing through the center. “I’m ready now.”
    “And none too soon since your groom looks like he’s about ready to storm down here to get you himself.”
    Sliding my arm through his, I turned and looked towards the end of the aisle to where Brandon stood waiting for me. Well, waiting was exaggerating it a bit since he’d moved to the bottom of the steps and looked like he was about to come drag me down the aisle.
    “I guess we’d better get moving then.”
    Some of the tension in Brandon’s body left as we moved towards him, but it wasn’t until Tommy placed my hand in his that he truly relaxed.
    “Took you long enough,” he grumbled.
    “Were you worried I was going to change my mind?”
    He flashed me a sexy grin before leading me up the steps towards the priest. “It wouldn’t have mattered if you did. We’re getting married today come hell or high water.”
    The priest cleared his throat, giving us a stern look when we finally stood directly in front of him.
    “I don’t think he liked your choice of words,” I murmured underneath my breath.
    Brandon returned the priest’s stare, not the least bit intimidated. “As long as he pronounces us man and wife in the next ten to fifteen minutes, I don’t really care what he likes or doesn’t like. I’ve waited long enough already.”
    “The Italian Catholics must work differently than the Irish ones since I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to boss your priest around.”
    The sound coming from the priest’s throat sounded like strangled laughter at this point, and his face was turning red.
    “He’s known me since I was born. My bossiness isn’t a surprise to him.”
    Apparently the priest was more than used to Brandon’s domineering ways because he somehow managed to perform our ceremony in fourteen minutes flat. Brandon’s mouth crashed against mine before the priest had finished telling him he could kiss the bride.
    “Finally,” he sighed before lifting me into his arms and carrying me back down the aisle to the waiting limo.
    “Finally?” I giggled. “That was the shortest wedding in the history of the Catholic church.”
    “It felt like it took forever to me,” he growled, climbing into the back of the car after settling me inside.
    “I don’t think so,” his mom chided just as he tried to shut the door behind us. “We still have pictures to take, and there’s no way Carly’s makeup and hair will survive the ride to the reception hall if you’re alone back here.”
    Brandon groaned as his brothers piled in with us.
    “Hey, if you want to muss her up a bit with us watching, that’s certainly your prerogative,” Gavin joked.
    “You’re lucky I don’t knock you all out so I can get a moment alone with my wife.”
    “Sounds a little extreme, bro,” Tristan chimed in.
    “Enough,” Luca interrupted, pulling earbuds out of his pockets and tossing a pair to each of his brothers before using one set himself. He closed his eyes and everyone else followed suit.
    “It’s not exactly what I was hoping for since I won’t be able to get you to myself again until late tonight, but I’ll take it.” And take it he did, kissing away every trace of my lipstick by the time we made it to the reception hall. Those stolen kisses had to tide us over through an hour of picture taking, a dinner where we barely had the chance to eat anything as everyone came to our table to offer their congratulations, and through the cake-cutting where we smashed the chocolate concoction onto each other’s faces.
    We barely cleaned up before they announced the first dance. Brandon led me to the dance floor just as “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole