Page 48 of Dangerous Devotion

The adrenaline coursing through my veins kept my senses sharp, every rustle of leaves, every creak of the greenhouse structure amplified in the tense silence.

You wouldn’t know it from the aged look, but the greenhouse glass was actually bulletproof.

Another security measure my nonno implemented to assure my nonna could do what she loved while minimizing the risk. So the only real threat was from whoever would come through that door next or came with the first one.

Jemma remained pressed against my back, her breathing rapid and shallow.

“Stay down,” I murmured, my eyes scanning the surroundings for any sign of movement.

Minutes stretched like hours as we waited, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and gunpowder. Finally, I heard the familiar sound of men approaching, their footsteps quick and purposeful.

The greenhouse door burst open, and the space flooded with men, their weapons at the ready. I kept my gun raised until I recognized Michele’s voice.

“Clear!” he shouted, followed by a chorus of confirmations from the others.

Only then did I lower my weapon, the tension in my muscles slowly ebbing away. I turned to Jemma, ready to assure her it was over.

That’s when I saw it—a thin trickle of blood running down from her ear which she had covered with her hand.

My throat tightened. “Punk?” I cupped her face, tilting it to get a better look. “You’re bleeding.”

She nodded, and I could see the pain in her eyes.

I pulled her hand away, and her fingertips were stained red.

“He missed though,” was all she said before she gave me a weak smile.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Istood in front of the full-length mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back at me. My hair looked soft and cute, and Fee even managed to cover the tiny scar from where the bullet grazed me so it wasn’t visible at all. The white dress hugged my curves, its intricate lace softening my usually bony figure. My hands trembled as I smoothed down the fabric, trying to calm my racing heart.

“You look beautiful,” Matt’s voice came from behind me.

I focused on Vince’s brothers gathered behind me, their usually stern faces of the last couple of days softened with genuine smiles. Dante crouched down and rubbed Picca’s belly, then looked up and smiled.

They all treated Picca like a princess—the same as they treated me.

“Thanks,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. Not that how I looked mattered—or at least, it shouldn’t.

I took in a shaky breath, feeling the increased pressure and underlying tension impacting my completely shot nerves.

This wasn’t just a wedding; it was a power play, a ploy to get all the high-ups in the Salvini Organization to gather at La Dimora—and based on the commotion all day, Vince’s plan had worked.

A Mafia wedding, especially one between the Donnellys and the Salvinis would’ve been tense and dangerous enough. But who knew what Vince’s father had set up for us?

“I might’ve made a mistake,” Matt said.

I turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “A mistake? Don’t tell me you’ve done something to sabotage today.”

Matt chuckled and raised his left eyebrow. “No. I mean, maybe I made a mistake in not fighting harder to keep you for myself. I was this close to snatching you.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

I played along, batting my eyelashes dramatically. “Oh, Matt! Are you saying you’ve fallen for me after pushing me away all this time?” I pressed a hand to my chest in mock surprise. Maybe some easy banter would help with the nervousness.

“What can I say? You clean up nice, Donnelly,” Matt teased, giving me an exaggerated once-over.

We both burst out laughing, and the tension inside of me eased slightly. It felt good to joke around even if it was just for a moment.

“You two are hilarious,” Hero chimed in, shaking his head but smiling. “Just don’t let Vince know there’s still lingering feelings or he might challenge you to a duel, and we all know he doesn’t know how to yield his sword.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

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