“Perfect.”
“You realize we can’t have a big celebration, right?” The Camorra and Bratva still barely tolerated each other, and so far Adamo’s and my unusual relationship hadn’t caused my father any trouble, but a wedding feast that involved both our families might change that.
Adamo shrugged. “I don’t really care about a big party. This is about us. For all I care, it can only be you and I, and it would be the perfect wedding.”
“We could marry in one of those chapels in Vegas. You know, the ones where Elvis seals the bond.”
Adamo obviously had to stifle laughter. “Not Elvis, but we can marry in a chapel in Vegas if that’s what you want.”
“It would fit, don’t you think?”
Adamo dropped his forehead against mine, smiling crookedly. “A girl who hates Valentine’s Day, who hates rings and who doesn’t want a nerve-racking wedding feast. I’m pretty sure you were heaven sent.”
“I seriously doubt it. If anything, heaven dropped me on earth because I didn’t behave.”
“I like it when you don’t behave,” Adamo murmured.
“I know.” I pulled him on top of me.
A week later, Dinara and I traveled to Las Vegas to spend a few days with my brothers and their families, and tell them about our decision. Of course, the second we announced our plan to marry, Kiara already fantasized about planning the wedding.
Dinara gave me a panicked look, so I spoke up before my sisters-in-law called a wedding planner. “Dinara and I don’t want to celebrate. We just want to elope in a chapel around here. No big deal.”
“Oh,” Kiara mumbled, exchanging a look with the other women.
“You realize you’re breaking quite a few hearts here, right?” Remo said, but he looked like he didn’t care. He’d never been one for the big celebrations, and probably wouldn’t have had any kind of wedding ceremony if Serafina hadn’t wanted it.
“For us, it’s not about the celebration, it’s about the promise we give each other,” Dinara said carefully.
“Considering the difficulty of having your family and ours under one roof, your decision is wise,” Nino said.
Dinara nodded quickly. “Yes, that’s another reason why we didn’t want to make a big deal of it. It’s just for us.”
“We don’t want a ring either,” I said. “Instead we want you to create wedding tattoos for us.”
Savio flashed Nino a grin. “Then you’ll have tattooed almost every member of our family. It’s becoming a heart-warming tradition.”
I scoffed. “A bull tattoo over your dick isn’t the most heart-warming sign.”
Savio sent Gemma a cocky look. “The sight of my bull always warms Gemma’s panties and heart, right?” She punched his abs, causing him to grunt.
“I hope you don’t want your wedding tattoos in similarly shady places,” Nino said dryly.
Dinara laughed.
“Don’t worry,” I said.
“When are you going to marry?” Kiara asked. I could tell she was bummed about not getting to organize a big wedding.
“Tomorrow,” Dinara and I said at the same time.
Kiara smiled hopefully. “Can we be there?”
Nino touched her shoulder.
“I think the lovebirds want to be alone,” Remo said.
I nodded. “We really don’t want to make a big deal out of it.” Inviting my family to the wedding wouldn’t go over well with Grigory, and there was no way we could have him at the ceremony in Vegas without causing a major scandal, and most likely bloodbath.
“At least, have someone record the ceremony,” Kiara begged.
“I think there’s a package we can book that includes photos and even a video,” Dinara said. “I could check.” She pulled out her phone but Remo waved her off.
“They are going to take photos and record everything if you ask them to. You’ll be a Falcone.”
Dinara and I exchanged a look.
“Actually,” I said. “Dinara will keep her name. Like we said, we just want to marry as a sign for us, not for outward appearances.”
“That’s reasonable given the situation with Grigory,” Nino drawled.
I laughed. “I knew you’d agree.”
Kiara shook her head, looking honestly disturbed. “You two are the least romantic people I know. Nino at least pretends to be romantic for my sake.”
“At least, they both don’t have a romantic bone in their body,” Serafina said.
Dinara shrugged. “Our idea of romance is sharing a beer on a car hood after kicking each other’s ass during a race.”
I pulled her against me and kissed her temple. “Perfect.”
When Dinara told her father about our decision that night, his excitement was limited. Not so much because she chose to marry me. I think he’d made his peace with me at this point, but he was appalled by the fact that his precious daughter would marry in a cliched chapel in Vegas. But he, like my family, had to accept our decision.
The next morning, Dinara and I followed Nino into a room that he’d prepared as a makeshift tattoo studio.
I was nervous if Dinara would like the tattoo I’d chosen. I’d searched the internet for days for possible options. Most of them were just tattooed rings but that would have been the too obvious choice. Dinara and I wanted something more subtle, not for everyone to see.
Nino pulled out the sheets with his design of our wedding tattoos. He pushed the sheet with the tattoo for Dinara’s palm over to her and the other sheet to me. Dinara scanned the drawing of an intricate lock in the shape of a heart then glanced over to my sheet with the matching key.
“Do you like it?” I asked when she didn’t say anything. She nodded with a slow smile. “Can you do something this delicate on a small scale like a finger?” she asked Nino, who frowned in response.
“I thought we could ink it into our palms. That way the key and the lock always merge when we hold hands. The downside is that tattoos in palms only last up to a year so we’d have to redo them regularly,” I said quickly. I hadn’t discussed this with her yet. It was meant as a surprise.
Dinara nodded immediately. “That’s actually perfect, because it means that we have to renew our vows every year.” She paused. “I feel bad that you’re the romantic in our relationship.”
“I’m glad your expectations are low when it comes to romantic gestures, trust me.”
Dinara and I exchanged a grin. Nino looked impatient. “So I assume you are both fine with me tattooing the designs into your palms?”
“Yes,” Dinara said, and I nodded.
“I should warn you that the palm is a tender spot and the tattoo is going to be at least uncomfortable, maybe even painful depending on your level of sensitivity.”
“I don’t think either of us is very sensitive to pain anymore,” I said dryly. I’d gone through torture at the hands of our enemy and more broken bones than I cared to recount during fights or race accidents. And Dinara had lived through enough shit as well. Not to mention that she had a nipple piercing, which Nino of course didn’t know.