Chapter 8

★ZAVARELLI★

My wedding was hell. A shit show. Though, if we're being honest, I never really expected to marry. Much more, have a wedding. If not for familial pressure, I'd be rotting away alone.

I remember the look on my little wife's face when I saw her walking down the aisle with her father. She didn't particularly look sad, nor happy. There was just a little smile on her face that made her look beautiful. And then there was the kiss.

I wasn't supposed to kiss her. I was going to tell the priest that it wasn't necessary—not that we were marrying for love anyway—but then I looked into those big blue eyes and down at those red glossy lips, and all thoughts fled away.

I sighed, closing my eyes and chasing all thoughts of the little girl from my mind. She wasn't little—age-wise—but she was petite, and her perfect little body could fit in my arms.

Fuck... There goes me chasing all thoughts of her.