I frowned and decided to make more of an effort for her reception. She might not want to be my wife, but I would prove to her that I wouldn’t mistreat her as long as she behaved herself. She was being remarkably docile now, eyes downcast so that her dark lashes swept her too-pale cheeks.

I wished I could see her lovely eyes, but at least she wasn’t screaming or railing at me anymore; the spanking had tamed her for the time being.

The memory of her submission and pert ass bouncing beneath my hand sent a fresh pulse of lust through my body, and male satisfaction warmed my chest.

Yes, we could learn to get along well.

“Ready?” Lorenzo asked, dragging my attention away from my bride.

I glanced at my friend and nodded. Like me, he wasn’t dressed for this occasion. In fact, he and Gabriele were even more dressed down than I was. The two brothers—nearly identical with their black eyes and thick dark beards—wore simple t-shirts and jeans. I’d at least worn my usual button-down shirt, even if I was also in jeans.

This definitely wouldn’t be the fairytale wedding women like Elenora no doubt dreamed about, but it would have to do. Despite the fact that she was dressed in a simple black skirt and sleeveless white blouse, she still managed to appear composed and poised; the same way she’d always looked when I’d seen her at her father’s parties over the years. I’d have to be blind not to have noticed her beauty, but she was always too young and too demure for me. I liked a challenge, and I’d expected Elenora to be meek and quiet.

She was certainly docile now that I’d taken her in hand. But she’d fought me in the car. She’d been fiery in her defiance.

I shifted my grip on her elbow and took her hand in mine. Hers was so much smaller, her fingers long and delicate. They were too cold, so I brushed my thumb over her knuckles to warm them. Her remarkable eyes flicked to mine, wide with trepidation and a hint of confusion. She didn’t understand yet that as my wife, I would kill to protect her. She had nothing to fear from me.

The short, aged man before us began to drone on, the officiant sounding almost bored as he recited the marriage ceremony like a well-worn litany. Judging by his wispy white hair and breezy demeanor, he’d done this countless times.

Good. I didn’t know where Gabriele had found this man or what he’d offered him to oversee this quickie wedding, but clearly, it’d been enough to satisfy the officiant. He hadn’t asked any questions, until he uttered the most important ones.

“Do you, Luca Vitale, take Elenora Ricci to be your wedded wife, to live together in marriage? Do you promise comfort her, honor her, and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her, for as long as you both shall live?”