Page 49 of Third Degree

Leaning back in my chair, I heaved, my mind racing with thoughts and plans. I was a Made man. These were the types of plans I had masterminded over the years, using my power and influence. I couldn’t afford to let complacency or weakness seep in this time.

17

Daphne

30 years old

The morning of the wedding, the girls had gotten ready together in Tatum’s room. A sense of awe and excitement flowed around us. Then we all met cliffside where the ceremony was taking place. Because Tatum’s parents weren’t there, we all sat in the front with Julian’s family.

Chelsea sat next to Alex, Julian’s brother. Maeve took her seat next to Christian, Julian’s bodyguard and best friend. That left the seat next to Elio open.

Chels jabbed me on the arm and whispered, “Too bad there isn’t another hot Marchetti brother for you to sit next to. Sorry you get the dad.” She shrugged her shoulders, and I looked over at Elio, who was in a classic black tux, biting my lip.

God, little did she know that just yesterday, I had spent the entire day being flown to the other side of the state with him. I wasn’t just attracted to him physically, but sometimes it felt like I was another part of him. .

She jabbed me again.

“Hey! Quit doing that.” I looked over at her.

“Are you okay? You’ve been acting funny ever since that dinner.” What was I supposed to tell her? I wasn’t ready to confess any of it, although I knew it was coming sooner rather than later.

“I’m fine. We will talk more once we are past all the wedding festivities,” I assured her, and she nodded in agreement.

“You know I’m always here for you,” she whispered to me, embracing me briefly before settling in next to Alex.

I had chosen to wear a long, elegant dark-green satin dress that hugged my curves, paired with black strappy heels. Heels weren’t really my thing, as I tended to be clumsy, but today was a special occasion that called for a touch of sophistication.

The ceremony site that unfolded before us was a breathtaking spectacle of beauty and romance. The air was filled with the sweet scent of flowers, an extravagant display that adorned every corner. Perched atop a cliff in San Diego, we were greeted by a gentle breeze, carrying with it a sense of serenity and promise.

It was a beautifully sunny day with a slight breeze in the air which only let the faint smell of salt from the ocean waft toward us. Everyone was dressed in their best black-tie outfits, most of the guests in loud colors to honor the bride’s love for color.

As I gazed around, I was drawn to the mesmerizing sight of countless candles, their flickering flames casting a warm glow along the aisles. It was as if the universe had conspired to create the perfect ambience for this momentous occasion.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard a familiar deep tone speaking to me.

“Sit, rosa mia.” Elio gestured to the chair next to him, and I glanced around to make sure no one heard what he called me. My rose, a pet name he had called me all those years ago because of how I smelled.

“You cannot call me that in public,” I argued with him as I sat next to him in the chair. He pulled the chair a bit closer to him.

“Who cares?” he mused, giving me a small peck on the cheek.

I did. I cared. I’d known my father was having me followed all these years. There was an air of distrust between him and me, and many times, I’d caught glimpses of his men nearby.

“I do,” I whispered in his ear, leaning over and smelling his familiar gin scent.

“You look beautiful, amore.” His emerald-green eyes gleamed against the warm sun as he smiled.

I looked at my friends down the row where we were seated, and they were totally engrossed in their conversations. I felt Elio’s hand reach over to my thigh, and he squeezed it. I looked up at him and realized his eyes hadn’t left me.

“I missed you last night.” I had tossed and turned the previous night, plagued by my insomnia.

It was a familiar struggle that haunted me whenever he wasn’t by my side. The absence of his warm presence left an unmistakable void, a sense of something crucial missing from my being.

“God, Gianna.” His voice was low, but still, my real name out loud sent a zing of anxiety down my neck. “I missed you so much. I am so sorry we have to do this. It won’t be long, amore.”

The ceremony started, and the entire time, Elio’s hand stayed on my thigh. At one point, I could have sworn I saw Chelsea look over at me, but I kept my eyes peeled ahead, watching as one of my best friends married the son of the love of my life. Ha.

Once the ceremony ended, family pictures were started, and then I was going to head over to the reception, which was at a hotel nearby. I started to get out of my seat and Elio’s hand fell off my thigh.

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