Page 29 of Mafia Don's Twisted Union

He steps closer, cutting off my words with his steady gaze. “It’s perfect, Mia. Everything is already here—the people, the setting, the moment. There’s no reason to wait.”

The calm conviction in his voice is like a tether, pulling me back from the edge of panic. But even as I nod, as if on autopilot, my thoughts are a chaotic storm.

Bianca appears at my side, her emerald eyes wide with excitement. “Mia!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around me. “Oh my God, I can’t believe this! You’re getting married tonight!”

I try to respond, but my words stick in my throat. Bianca doesn’t seem to notice. She pulls back, her hands gripping my shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ll be your maid of honor! Who else would it be?”

“Bianca,” I start, but the sound of Carlito’s voice interrupts me.

“Everything is ready,” he says, stepping forward to offer his arm.

Bianca squeals softly before letting go of me, her enthusiasm spilling over as she rushes toward the center of the terrace. I glance at Carlito, his expression steady, expectant.

I take a breath, steadying myself as best I can, and slip my hand into the crook of his arm. As we move toward the makeshift altar, the question lingers in my mind:What have I just agreed to?

The terrace feels like a dreamscape now, transformed into something intimate and ethereal. The gentle glow of the lightscasts golden halos on the guests’ faces, and the soft strains of violin music weave through the air. Everything about this moment feels perfect, except for the chaos in my chest.

I barely register Bianca returning to my side, her hands busy smoothing the fabric of my dress and adjusting stray strands of my hair. “Mia, you look stunning,” she says, her voice brimming with genuine admiration. “This is going to be magical.”

Magical. I glance at Carlito, who’s standing a few paces away, speaking quietly to someone from the staff. His presence commands the space, his broad shoulders and poised stance making him look like he belongs in this spotlight.

My gaze falls to the ring on my finger, its brilliance catching the terrace lights. A part of me wants to run, to take a moment to think, to breathe. But as my eyes lift to Carlito again, something in his steady confidence grounds me.

Bianca grabs my hand, pulling me toward the makeshift altar. “Come on, it’s time! I’ll be right here with you.”

Carlito turns as we approach, his dark eyes locking onto mine. The faintest trace of a smile softens his features, and for a fleeting moment, the noise in my head quiets.

Leo steps forward and clears his throat, addressing the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. Tonight, we celebrate not just a proposal but a union—a commitment as enduring as the city lights that surround us.”

There’s a low murmur of approval from the guests as they settle into place, forming an impromptu semicircle around the altar.

Carlito offers me his hand again, and I take it, my fingers trembling slightly. He draws me closer, his grip firm but not unkind. “Are you ready?” he asks, his voice low enough that only I can hear.

I nod, though I’m not entirely sure the answer is yes.

The officiant begins speaking, his words flowing over me like a distant echo. I’m too caught in my own head, replaying the whirlwind events that led to this moment. When did I lose control? Or… did I ever have it to begin with?

As the officiant talks of love and trust, Carlito’s thumb brushes lightly against my hand, pulling me back to the present. I glance up at him, and the intensity in his gaze takes my breath away. There’s something deeper there, something raw and unguarded.

When it’s time to exchange vows, I hesitate, my mind searching for the right words. “Carlito,” I begin, my voice trembling. “This… this isn’t what I expected. But somehow, it feels…” I pause, the words catching in my throat. “…right.”

He doesn’t break eye contact, his deep voice steady as he responds. “Mia, you are stronger than you realize. And I will stand by you, no matter what. Always.”

The sincerity in his tone makes my chest tighten. This man, who is so commanding, so often unreadable, is laying something bare in front of all these people.

The officiant calls for the rings, and Carlito produces a simpler yet equally striking platinum wedding band. He slides it onto my finger with precision, placing it beside the engagement ring already resting there, as if sealing a pact only he fully understands.

As I take his hand to return the gesture, the enormity of this moment crashes over me. I glance at the two rings now on my finger, the engagement ring’s boldness paired with the wedding band’s quiet elegance. Together, they feel like a perfect representation of Carlito himself—unyielding yet deeply deliberate.

“By the power vested in me,” the officiant begins, but his words blur as Carlito steps closer.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, his voice soft but filled with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

The officiant declares us husband and wife, his words punctuated by the sound of applause rising from the crowd. The cheers are thunderous, an overwhelming wave of celebration that seems to vibrate through the terrace. But I barely register it. All I can feel is Carlito—his hand still holding mine, his gaze never leaving my face.

“You may kiss the bride,” the officiant says, his voice ceremonial and calm.

Carlito’s free hand moves to my cheek, his touch warm and deliberate. His eyes soften as he leans in, and before I can process the moment, his lips meet mine. The kiss is firm yettender, a mixture of possession and reassurance that takes my breath away.

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