PRIEST
“You ready, frattore mio ?” Saint asks.
My bare feet are covered in white sand. The sun is shining, the azure waves are gently lapping at the Caribbean shore, and I’m about to marry the woman I love for the second time.
But this go-round, it’s not a rushed arranged marriage in an intimidating cathedral. It’s a private beach wedding in St. Thomas at the luxury resort we recently invested in, with only our closest friends and family.
“I’m more than ready,” I tell my brother, best man, and consigliere.
For the last year, Luna and I have been living together, figuring our shit out. She transferred to a dynamite MFA program in the city and finished her degree. I’m so fucking proud of her, it ought to be a crime.
She’s been publishing poetry under a pseudonym to keep the family business separate from her work, a compromise she says she doesn’t mind one bit. Her cat has been plotting my murder because I spend every night in Luna’s bed and I don’t like to share. Cid will get over it eventually.
I’m don of the joined families, and we’ve expanded our territory and developed stronger ties than ever with the Bratva, thanks to Scorpion. Luna manages her dad’s businesses, and she’s converted part of the club into a combination coffeehouse and independent bookstore.
Life is better than I ever dared to imagine it could be. I’m the luckiest asshole this side of the equator. And I’m about to get even luckier when my woman walks down the aisle to me.
“What’s with the shit-eating grin?” Saint asks me, playfully kicking sand in my direction.
“Just thinking about how fucking lucky I am.”
Saint shakes his head. “You are lucky to have Luna. My sister-in-law’s a kick-ass woman. But don’t let all this go to that fat head of yours or you won’t be able to fit through a fucking door.”
“You’re lucky you’re my brother,” I warn him.
But it’s a good-natured warning, and he knows it.
Saint can get away with more than anyone can.
Except for Luna. And maybe, just maybe, that gray-and-white bundle of fur she brought home.
I’ll never admit that I’m the one who keeps buying Cid the catnip bananas that have been popping up all over the penthouse. That secret dies with me.
“I am lucky that I’m your brother,” Saint says, getting all serious on me as he claps me on the shoulder. “I’m proud of you, frattore mio . You deserve to be happy. You both do.”
“I hate to interrupt this moment because you two look like you’re about to start braiding hair and painting toenails,” Scorpion interjects, plucking at his white linen shirt. “But if this show doesn’t get on the road soon, I’m going to have to take this fucking thing off. I’m sweating to death.”
“Yeah, what the hell is this thing made of anyway?” Lucky wants to know.
“Linen.” I give my brothers a look. “Luna chose them.”
They both know better than to say a fucking thing about the shirts after that.
The wedding planner heads our way then. She’s wearing sandals and a tropical-looking dress, and she radiates grandma-who-bakes-you-cookies-for-breakfast vibes.
She gives us a beaming, toothy smile. “It’s time to get into position, gentlemen. The guests are all seated, and the ceremony is about to start.”
We dutifully follow her to the archway on the beach.
It’s been lined with Luna’s favorite flowers—white roses and hydrangeas.
I take up my position at the makeshift altar, Saint next to me, and face our guests.
I catch Zia Maria sniffling into a tissue and have to blink really hard against a rush of emotion.
“You crying?” Saint asks, keeping his voice low.
“Sand in my eyes,” I lie.
A sudden wave of nerves hits me. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, the moment that doesn’t erase the past and its ugliness, but the moment that atones for it. Luna and I may already be technically married, but this is the wedding day we’ll look back on and celebrate.
“How do I look?” I mutter to my brother.
“You don’t look bad,” Saint tells me. “For an ugly fucker.”
I shake my head. “Asshole.”
We don’t have any more time to exchange insults, because the violinist begins playing and Luna’s bridesmaids start down the aisle, one by one. I barely even notice any of them. It’s my wife I’m waiting to see.
But when the maid of honor, Luna’s best friend Isla, starts walking toward us in a flowing light-blue dress, I hear Saint curse at my side.
I glance at him, curious.
His eyes are glued to her, an intensity in his expression that I’ve never seen on him before.
“Who the fuck is that?” he growls in a hushed voice.
“That’s Luna’s best friend,” I murmur. “Isla.”
“Fuck.”
As he curses, Isla’s attention slips to Saint.
Her eyes go wide, and she stumbles in the sand.
For a second, I’m afraid she’s going to pitch face first onto the beach.
I take a step forward, intending to catch her.
But Isla rights herself, pink tingeing her high cheekbones.
Clutching her bouquet like it’s a weapon, she goes to her place at the altar, pointedly averting her gaze from my brother.
Saint is also glancing in the opposite direction, his reaction to seeing Luna’s friend equally as odd.
Since we arrived on the island, Luna’s been entertaining the bridal party, while I’ve been taking care of the groomsmen.
It’s been nice to unwind and catch up in this gorgeous, sun-drenched location.
Isla arrived a bit later than the others because of a work commitment.
As far as I was aware, Saint and the rest of my brothers hadn’t met her yet, which I intended to rectify during the reception.
But from the looks of things, my brother and Isla are already acquainted.
And neither of them looks too happy about it.
Interesting.
Before I can think too much more about this development, the violinist begins to play “Can’t Help Falling in Love,” and Luna is walking down the aisle to me.
She’s fucking beautiful, her long hair down in loose, beachy waves, her white silk gown molded to her sexy body in a way that makes me want to scoop her up in my arms and carry her off so no one else can see her in it.
She has one white rose in her hair and the diamond necklace I gave her for her birthday around her throat, the matching earrings sparkling from her ears. She’s carrying a bouquet of white hydrangeas, and as she catches my eye, she smiles.
This woman.
She’s changed me.
Made me whole.
And I intend to spend the rest of my life worshiping her.
She reaches me, we lock eyes, and I hold out my hand.
When she takes it, I bring her fingers to my lips for a kiss. “You are perfect, amore mio .”
“ Ti amo ,” she whispers.
“ Ti amo , baby. Let’s get married the right way this time.”
I lace our fingers together, and then we hold each other’s hands and recite our vows under the Caribbean sun, surrounded by everyone we love.
Thank you so very much for reading Brutal Devil ! If you’re looking for more Andriani Brothers, read on for a sneak peek of Cruel Sinner , Isla and Saint’s HEA.
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Cruel Sinner
Andriani Brothers Book 2
Isla
I’m the maid of honor at my bestie’s destination wedding. Everything is unfolding according to plan in a lush, tropical paradise.
Except the part where I had a one-night stand with the groom’s best man.
Alessio “Saint” Andriani is a whole lot more than a six-foot-two, gorgeous, muscle-bound G-spot king.
He’s also a mobster.
Not just any mobster, either. Turns out, he’s the consigliere for one of the most powerful crime bosses in the Northeast. A ruthless, merciless man who always gets what he wants.
What he wants this time? Me.
But when we touch back down in the real world, a brutal turf war explodes, and his enemies will stop at nothing to destroy him.
Now I’m caught in a dangerous game, with no way out.
Except one.
Chapter One
Isla
Libraries have always been my second home.
Give me walls of books, the cozy scent of ink and paper, a peaceful, anonymous quiet that no one will dare to interrupt, and a hot cup of chai latte, and I’m in my element.
Sitting alone at a sleek, granite-topped bar at a hotel in the Caribbean? So not me.
But here I am anyway, with a half-empty lemon martini on the polished stone bar, staring at the lights glinting off the ocean beyond. It’s a killer view, even in the dark. The air is humid with a pleasant breeze, the scent of salt and citrus in the air.
I’m in paradise, but it’s lost on me.
When my bestie first told me about her plan for a destination wedding in St. Thomas a few months ago, I was thrilled.
Luna is like a sister to me and the closest thing to family I have, and being her maid of honor is a dream come true.
Even better? I decided to make it a romantic getaway for me and my fiancé.
Perfect, right?
Except, a month ago, I found out Christian was cheating on me with one of his students.
Needless to say, our wedding is off, along with our relationship.
And the only romance in this getaway for me is going to be happening courtesy of my vibrator, which is currently sitting in my suitcase somewhere inside Miami International instead of here with me.
Picking up the martini glass, I toss back the rest of my drink, trying not to wince.
Holy vodka, that’s strong. When it comes to drinking, I’m a lightweight.
But I got in late thanks to a delayed flight, I’m missing my luggage which—fingers crossed—will arrive tomorrow, and Luna is off on a date night with the groom.
I’m not officially on maid of honor duty for now, and my life has imploded.