Page 52 of Dangerous Devotion

All clear—at least for now.

I sucked in air and straightened. “Ready?” I asked Jemma softly.

She nodded, then lifted her chin in determination. “Let’s get through today.”

With one last look at Michele, I led Jemma toward the house, and our guests followed behind us in a joyful procession.

It was almost too harmonious, to be honest, and my stomach tensed.

We entered the house and were immediately surrounded by people congratulating us. It was almost too much, but I kept a straight face and shook more hands than I cared for while surveying the room constantly.

I got separated from Jemma and signaled to my brothers tostay with her while I shook hands, took their congratulations, and smiled until my cheeks hurt.

Marco Bianchi settled next to me and handed me a glass.

I took a sip of the ice water Marco handed me, grateful for its coolness against my dry throat. The constant handshaking and forced smiles were already wearing on me, but I couldn’t get antsy. Not today.

This was it. This was the point of no return.

“What’s the old man up to?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

Marco had been keeping tabs on my father for me, his tech skills and position within the Salvini Organization proving invaluable time and time again.

Marco’s eyes darted around the room before he leaned in closer. “He’s furious. Absolutely livid that he wasn’t invited. Been making threats left and right to anyone who dared to show up here today.”

I nodded, unsurprised by my father’s reaction. It was exactly what I’d expected, but hearing it confirmed was still chilling.

I scanned the room filled with familiar faces, many of them high-ranking members of our organization. Were they friends or foes? “It seems his threats didn’t have much effect, or were they just for show?”

Marco’s lips quirked into a small smile. “That’s the thing. I have no indication they were. Everyone here? They’re on your side. Every single one of them chose to come despite Alfredo’s warnings. It’s a pretty clear message, if you ask me.”

I felt my eyebrows rise involuntarily. I’d hoped for some support, sure, but this level of loyalty? It was unexpected, to say the least.

The room was filled with faces I’d known for years, people who’d always seemed fully aligned with my father’s old-school methods and highly skeptical of my vision for the future.

Maybe my own father trying to kill me had turned some of his most loyal men against him.

“Hmm,” I said, unable to keep the surprise but also suspicion from my voice.

Marco nodded, his eyes gleaming with a hint of pride. “Looks like you’ve got more support than you realized.”

I watched Salvatore Caruso, one of our veteran enforcers, make his way toward me. Sal had been with the family for as long as I could remember. He was one of the old breed, tough, old-school, and fiercely loyal. “Tua moglie è davvero straordinaria, Vincenzo,” he muttered.

Your wife is quite something.

I followed his gaze and watched Jemma as she laughed at something Dante whispered in her ear. My brothers flanked her like a protective detail, never straying far from her side. On the one hand, I was grateful for their vigilance. On the other, I couldn’t help but feel a possessive urge to whisk her away from everyone’s admiring gazes.

I focused back on Jemma and couldn’t take my eyes off her. She moved through the crowd with an effortless grace, her smile dazzling as she greeted each guest. I felt a surge of pride mixed with a twinge of jealousy as I watched her charm even the most hardened men in our organization.

I nodded, forcing a smile. “That she is.”

“A little unconventional to take her from your brother,” Salmurmured, his voice tinged with something I couldn’t quite place. “Though Matteo seems unnecessarily happy about it.”

I side-eyed Sal and shrugged. “Sono innamorato.”

I fell in love—it was as simple as that.

Sal nodded, lost in thought. “You know what my first job in the organization was?” he asked.

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