When he’d seen the innuendo laden articles with pictures of him and Tara kissing, his first thought had been the money he’d paid to bribe Randall’s private detective not to mention his involvement with Tara had been wasted.
The whole flight back to Portland, he’d been worried he would only land to discover Randall had gotten to her first.
Randall hadn’t gotten to her and Angelo was determined he wouldn’t get the chance.
Hence the hasty wedding, but it didn’t have to be a shabby, hole-in-the-wall affair. And it wasn’t.
He’d offered his second in command a way to get back into his good graces…arrange a wedding fit for a princess in less than twenty-four hours. The wedding chapel was actually outside Reno, in the mountains toward the more affluent and less touristy Lake Tahoe.
The cathedral style chapel was decorated inside with dozen and dozens of white and yellow roses and purple irises. Lit with candlelight and recessed sconces that made the stained glass behind the altar glow, it was the perfect setting for his soon to be wife to walk down the aisle.
Tara’s mother and Danette were seated in front on one of the polished wooden pews. Angelo’s private investigator and long-time friend, Hawk, sat across the aisle from them.
The music of a pipe organ swelled, filling the space with the strains of the wedding march.
Angelo’s gaze snapped to the back of the church where the open double doors framed Tara, her head held high, her dark brown eyes pools of feminine mystery and her hand curled around her stepdad’s arm.
They started forward and a wave of something indefinable washed over Angelo.
Possessive desire was certainly part of it. Soon, this woman would be his to have, to hold and to make love to…over and over again.
Tara wasn’t wearing a traditional wedding gown, but the designer original filmy white concoction she had on clung to every single one of her curves. It dipped in the front to reveal the top swells of her creamy, smooth breasts. Sexy and feminine, the dress was the stuff masculine fantasies were made of.
Those fantasies vied for his attention with the minister as he went through the wedding service. Angelo managed to give all the right answers, however, and smiled in victory when Tara did the same thing.
Afterward, he took everyone out for a celebratory dinner at the five-star restaurant his assistant had made reservations at. All he really wanted to do was take Tara up to their suite and make her his completely.
The glow on her face made it worth it however. Her mom and Darren were important to her, which was something he needed to remember. It had been a long time since he’d had close family.
After his parents’ deaths, he’d pushed away his Sicilian family, only going home to visit infrequently.
“You know, when I gave you that information on Randall, I never would have guessed this is where it would lead you to,” Hawk said from beside Angelo.
Tara’s mother and her husband were dancing while Danette and Tara had gone to the ladies’ room.
Angelo turned, lifting a sardonic brow. “What better way to ensure he doesn’t get his hands on her again?”
His friend’s eyes narrowed. “I know you can be a cold and ruthless bastard, Angelo, but tell me that’s not the only reason you married her.”
“Do you think she would be better off having that egomaniac people user back in her life?”
“Tara doesn’t strike me as a woman stupid enough to make the same mistakes twice.”
“He can be damn convincing.”
“Not enough to get her to agree to be his mistress.”
“No, Tara would never agree to that kind of arrangement.” But once Randall was divorced, the rules would change.
He’d just taken steps to make sure the other man could never again enter the game.
“Do you feel anything for her besides the need to get the better of your enemy?” Hawk asked, sounding like a man with a stronger conscience than Angelo had ever suspected.
“I want her.”
“Is that all?”
“None of your damn business.”
“I’m your friend, Angelo.”
“But you aren’t my confessor.”
Hawk just stared at him, the look disconcerting, even for Angelo.
“I want her. I respect her. I like her. It’s enough.”
“I wonder.”
“I’m not going to hurt her.”
“Have you taken any time to consider how she’s going to react once she learns about Randall?”
“With any luck, she’ll never have to know about Randall. I’m sure as hell not going to tell her.”
“I’ve never been much of a believer in luck.”