Meanwhile.. Vincent Moretti’s eyes narrowed as he watched Rowan Falcone from across the room. The ceremony was in full swing, but Vincent’s focus wasn’t on the couple exchanging vows or the heartfelt speeches. No, his attention was locked on the man seated a few rows ahead, who, with a smug expression, seemed utterly captivated by Amara. His grandson.. for god sake… Vaughn, sat comfortably on Rowan’s lap, completely at ease. The sight of it made Vincent’s blood boil.
Isabelle, his wife, sat beside him, her hand gently gripping his arm as if sensing the storm brewing inside him. She had always been the more composed of the two, the one who could keep her emotions in check even in the most volatile situations. But she knew her husband well, knew the fire that burned within him when it came to his family-especially when it came to Amara and Vaughn.
“Whatever you’re planning, do it later,” Isabelle murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze was steady, calm, as she glanced over at Vincent. “Remember we have a wedding going on.. and most importantly.. Emery’s parents want it to happen peacefully.”
Vincent clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists. He wanted nothing more than to confront Rowan, to wipe that smug look off his face, to make him pay for daring to sit so close to Amara, for daring to touch his grandson as if he had any right. But Isabelle’s touch grounded him, reminded him of the bigger picture. This was Emery’s wedding, a day that had been long in the making, and the last thing he wanted was to cause a scene that would ruin it.
“I know, wife,” Vincent replied through gritted teeth, his eyes never leaving Rowan. He took a deep breath, trying to steady the rage simmering just beneath the surface. He had been in the game long enough to know when to act and when to bide his time. But that didn’t make it any easier to swallow the bitter pill of restraint.
His mind raced with thoughts of the mission Amara had taken on a few months ago, a mission that had tied his hands in more ways than one. He had trained her for this, prepared her for the dangers she would face. But seeing her now, seated next to Rowan, the man who represented everything they were fighting against, made him question whether he had made the right decision.
Isabelle squeezed his hand, pulling him out of his dark thoughts. “We’ll handle it later, Vincent,” she said softly, her voice soothing. “But for now, let’s focus on the wedding. Emery deserves this day, and so does Leo. We can’t let Rowan ruin it.”
Vincent nodded, though his gaze remained fixed on Rowan. He knew Isabelle was right, but it didn’t quell the anger bubbling within him. He had never trusted Rowan Falcone, and seeing him so close to Amara only confirmed his worst fears. He had always been protective of her, even more so since Vaughn was born.
But as he saw Alessandro by Amara’s side, he felt slightly relaxed.
As the ceremony continued, Vincent forced himself to focus on the bride and groom. Leo stood at the altar, his expression a mixture of love and nervousness as he watched Emery walk down the aisle with her father, Vladimir Ivanov. Emery looked radiant, her white gown flowing gracefully as she moved, her eyes locked on Leo as if he were the only person in the room. The love between them was palpable despite the tension in the room.
Vincent couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt as he watched them. This was their day, a celebration of their love, and yet here he was, consumed by thoughts of revenge and retribution.
In the front seat, Amara forced herself to focus on her son, trying to steady her breathing. She managed a small smile, though her heart was still racing from Rowan’s proximity. “Yes, baby, like a princess,” she replied softly, her voice wavering slightly as she tried to keep her composure.
But the image of a diamond castle-something so fantastical and beautiful, so far removed from her reality-clashed with the turmoil raging inside her. She wasn’t a princess in a fairytale, and there was no castle that could protect her from the storm Rowan was unleashing within her.
Rowan’s gaze remained fixed on her, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He had heard the waver in her voice, seen the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. He knew he had gotten to her, that his words had struck a chord she couldn’t ignore.
From the middle seats, Harvey and Kyle sat on edge throughout the entire wedding, their eyes never straying far from Rowan.
Kyle’s gaze flicked nervously between Rowan and the rest of the room. Every time Rowan shifted in his seat or exchanged a glance with Amara, Kyle felt his stomach tighten. He knew Rowan could be unpredictable, especially when it came to matters of the heart. And with Amara seated so close, with Vaughn on his lap, he just hoped, Rowan wouldn’t do anything that would cost them their life.
Harvey’s heart pounded in his chest every time Rowan leaned closer to Amara, whispering something only she could hear. The way Rowan looked at her, with a possessive intensity, made Harvey’s skin crawl.
“Stay sharp,” Harvey muttered to Kyle, his voice barely above a whisper. Kyle nodded, his expression grim. They both knew that if Rowan decided to act on whatever impulse was simmering beneath the surface.
Kyle’s hand hovered near his phone, ready to call for backup at the first sign of trouble.
The wedding ceremony proceeded, but to Harvey and Kyle, it felt like walking a tightrope, the tension building with every passing moment. Their only hope was that Rowan would keep himself in check, at least until the ceremony was over. They exchanged a brief glance, each silently praying that the man they both served wouldn’t do something irreparable.