Page 26 of Married to the Mafia Devil

Alex extends his hand. “Nice to finally meet you. Don’t worry about the boss here. He isn't as tough as he likes to pretend.”

Emma's laugh, light and genuine, fills the space between us, easing the tension. “I'm beginning to see that,” she says, her gaze flicking to me with a warmth that sends an unfamiliar jolt through me.

Alex's eyes linger on Emma a moment too long, his casual compliment, “You look beautiful in that dress,” sparking an unexpected flare of jealousy within me. “Alex,” I warn, my voice low, an undercurrent of possessiveness threading through the single word.

Catching the change in my tone, Alex raises his hands in mock surrender. “Just stating the obvious, boss. No harm meant.”

As we approach the altar, the priest greets us with a warmth that belies the formal setting. “Matteo, Emma, it’s an honor to be here with you today in this wonderful setting, to witness the start of your journey together.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing to do with the five hundred thousand donation to the church roof fund,” I reply.

He laughs. “Certainly helps. Now, Matteo Rossi, do you take Emma Thompson to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?”

I meet Emma's gaze, finding an echo of the resolve I feel in her eyes. “I do,” I say, my voice steady, carrying my commitment not just to the terms of our agreement but to her, to us, whatever that may become.

The priest then turns to Emma. “And do you, Emma Thompson, take Matteo Rossi to be your lawfully wedded husband, under the same promises and vows?”

Emma's hand tightens in mine, her voice clear and strong. “I do.”

The priest smiles, nodding with satisfaction. “Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

As our lips meet, the world falls away, leaving only the sensation of Emma melting into me, her response kindling a rush of emotion that threatens to overwhelm my carefully constructed barriers.

The priest's voice draws me back, his final blessing a gentle benediction over our new union. “May your life together be blessed with love, joy, and companionship. Remember, it's not the vows that make a marriage, but the willingness to hold onto each other through the trials and triumphs that life will bring. To know that together you are stronger than you ever could be apart.”

As we turn to walk down the aisle, Emma's voice is a whisper only for me. “I thought wedding ceremonies took longer,” she says. “That seemed to be over in the blink of an eye.”

“When you pay for things, they go the way you want them to. I wanted it done fast.”

“In case of trouble? Or in case I tried to run?”

“I know you wouldn’t run.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“The ‘discussion’ we had just before the guests came back in. It told me everything I needed to know.”

She smiles. “This is all so surreal. One moment I'm living a normal life, and the next, I'm married to you.”

I look down at her, the weight of her words settling in my heart. “I know this isn't how either of us envisioned our futures,” I admit, stopping to face her fully. “But I promise you, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. That's my priority.”

She bites her lip, contemplating my words before looking up with those clear, honest eyes. “And what about us?” she asks. “What happens to 'us' after all this is over? After Petrovitch is no longer a threat?”

It's a question that's haunted me since we agreed to this arrangement. “We decide what we want when that time comes.”

A small smile dances on her lips, a glimpse of the connection that's been growing between us, fragile yet undeniable. “What if I want to stay married?” she whispers, her voice carrying a mix of hope and uncertainty. “Would you want that or is this just a game to you?”

My heart soars at the idea but I clamp down on the emotion. A proper marriage. Mutual respect like my parents had? Could I do it?

A sudden noise from the side of the church catches my attention. Turning, we see Alex approaching, his usual easy demeanor replaced by an urgency that tenses my muscles in anticipation.

“We've got a situation,” Alex says, his eyes darting to Emma before settling on me. “Petrovitch's men were spotted near the security perimeter. Could be nothing but you said to let you know if anything happened.”

A cold fury settles over me. “Ensure the guests are safe and discreetly inform the security team. No scenes,” I command, my mind already racing through contingencies. I see the look on his face. “There’s something else, isn’t there? What is it?”

“I wasn’t going to bother you during the wedding.”

“Just tell me.”

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