"Hm. Is he a friend of yours?"
"Yes."
Costa nodded, reaching his hand up to move a stray piece of hair from my face. "If you ever let another man touch you again, there will be consequences. Do you understand?"
He spoke so softly yet so ominously...
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Someone needs to put a muzzle on that bitch.
As soon as the car pulled up outside the hotel, I got out leaving my fuming wife behind.
Her family were already waiting there for her anyway so I'm sure one of them could get Millie and her stupid dress out of the car.
I hated that dress.
Didn't she think ahead? She really had to choose a dress with so much unnecessary fabric.
The top half was really nice. The lace hugged her body and her curves perfectly. It showed the right amount of skin without being too revealing for a church wedding.
But still, the V neck made it difficult not to stare too much during the ceremony. It's not like she would have noticed anyway, she was too busy looking at everything else but my eyes.
And the skirt...well it made her look like a princess - which is why I fucking hated it.
That infuriating woman is anything but a princess - despite being known in the underworld as the Princess of the Greek Mafia.
But she looked so damn beautiful when she walked into the church.
The moment those doors opened I could hear her laughing with those two idiots until they realised everyone was watching them.
Her hair was up, apart from the few loose strands that framed her face. Her make up was much lighter than I would have expected, but it was perfect. As she walked in, the white of her dress gave her olive toned skin an ethereal glow.
She was fucking beautiful.
And I hated her.
I hated the way her hands felt in mine and the way she refused to meet my gaze throughout the entire ceremony. I hated how amusing her nervousness was and how easy she was to read. I hated that innocent shock on her face when she realised we weren't going to kiss. I hated her thick Greek accent when she spoke to me.
I hated everything about her and it was killing me.
We'd been married for less than an hour and I was ready to strangle her.
"Costa?"
"I need a drink." I stormed past my family who had gathered in the lobby.
"Wait, we're taking pictures first." Riviera was the brave woman who grabbed my arm to stop me from heading straight to the bar.
What is this fucking obsession with photos? Why would anyone want to remember this day?
I stopped in my tracks, glaring at her hand on my forearm. My entire body was tense but my sister was never fazed by my anger. Neither was my two year old niece, Elena, who giggled when she saw me from her mother's arms.
