Bound | H.S.

Chapter 8

I could feel the color drain from my face.

Harry reached for my hand and I flinched, but he clasped it anyway. I steeled myself and ignored him. I couldn't face him now, not after what that woman had just said. I didn't care that it was required to invite her and her parents. Harry should have kept them away.

I could tell Harry got frustrated with my continued refusal to meet his gaze as we spoke to the last few guests. When we walked toward the tables that had been set up under a roof of garlands attached to wooden beams, he said. "You can't ignore me forever, Aria. We are married now."

I ignored that as well. I was hanging onto my composure with desperate abandon and still I could feel it slipping through my fingers like sand. I could not, I would not break into tears at my own wedding, especially since nobody would mistake them for tears of happiness.

Before we could take our seats, a chorus of 'Bacio, Bacio' broke out among our guests. I'd forgotten about that tradition. Whenever the guests shouted the words we'd have to kiss until they were satisfied.

Harry pulled me against his rock-hard chest and pressed another kiss against my lips. I tried in vain not to be as stiff as a porcelain doll, to no avail. Harry released me and finally we were allowed to sit down.

Gianna took a seat beside me, then leaned over to whisper in my ear. "I'm glad he didn't shove his tongue down your throat. I don't think I could get any food down if I had to witness that."

I was glad too. I was already tense enough. If Harry actually tried to deepen a kiss in front of hundreds of guests, I might lose it altogether.

Alex sat beside Harry and said something to him that made both of them laugh. I didn't even want to know what kind of lewd joke that might have been. The rest of the seats at our table belonged to my parents, Fabiano and Lily, Harry's father and step-mother, as well as Fiore Cavallaro and his wife and their son Dante.

I knew I should be starving. The only thing I'd eaten all day were the few pieces of banana in the morning, but my stomach seemed content to live on fear alone.

Alex rose from his chair after everyone had settled down and clinked his knife against the Champagne glass to silence the crowd. With a nod toward Harry and me, he began his toast. "Ladies and gentlemen, old and new friends, we've come here today to celebrate the wedding of my brother Harry and his stunningly beautiful wife, Aria..."

Gianna reached for my hand under the table.

I hated having the attention of everyone on me, but I mustered up a bright smile. Alex soon made several inappropriate jokes that had almost everyone roaring and even Harry leaned back in his chair with a smirk, which seemed to be the only form of smile he allowed himself most of the time.

After Alex, it was my father's turn. He praised the great collaboration of the New York mob and the Chicago Outfit, making it sound as if this was a business merger and not a wedding feast. Of course, he also dropped a few hints that it was a wife's duty to obey and please her husband.

Gianna clutched my hand so tightly by then that I was worried it would fall off.

At last, it was Harry's father's turn to toast us. Salvatore Styles wasn't quite as impressive but whenever his eyes settled on me, I had to stifle a shiver. The only good thing about listening to the toast was that nobody could call 'Bacio, Bacio' and that Harry's attention was focused elsewhere.

However, that reprieve was short lived.

The servers began piling the tables with antipasti. Everything from veal Carpaccio, Vitello Tonnato, Mozzarella di Bufala, an entire leg of parma ham, over a selection of Italian cheeses, octopus salad, marinated calamari as well as green salads and ciabiatta.