Page 65 of Third Degree

“It’s perfect.” I rubbed the top of his hand, and I could feel him relax under my touch. He slipped it onto my finger.

That was it. Just like that, I was bound to him. To the man who’d stolen my heart when I was eighteen years old. To the man I truly and genuinely had so much emotion for. The man I was pissed at for not saying anything.

I grabbed the small gold band and slipped it on his finger as he interlaced his hand with mine.

“Do you, Elio Emilio Marchetti, take Gianna Daphne Ricci to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?”

He didn’t even pause for a millisecond before saying, “I do.”

I didn’t know why, but I could feel the tears well in my eyes. A sudden rush of emotion, knowing that it was my turn next.

“And do you, Gianna Daphne Ricci, take Elio Emilio Marchetti to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?”

I ran my tongue along my lips and gently pulled out my lower lip thoughtfully, looked at Elio, and as the moments passed, his face turned questioning. His smile slowly faded.

Fuck.

I desperately wanted this to be my decision. I wanted my freedom so badly, and all of this just felt like a backward way of getting there.

But this was just how the story began for us. Plus, it was not like I had much of a choice in any of this.

“I do,” I finally said confidently, and the smile returned to Elio’s face.

“With that said, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your new bride.”

I found myself transfixed by Elio’s gaze, his eyes burning with a mixture of desire and restraint. He possessed an undeniable allure, exuding an aura of refined masculinity that commanded attention.

Elio closed the space between us with a deliberate yet gentle motion, his lips pressing against mine with a tantalizing blend of softness and fervor. The world around us faded into obscurity as I surrendered to the intoxicating sensation of his mouth upon mine. His touch, seasoned by time, held a depth of experience that only added to the allure.

In that stolen moment, our bodies molded together, drawing us closer, as if the universe itself conspired to bring us back into each other’s arms.

The feel of his tongue as it swept into my mouth was a heady blend of warmth and tenderness and immediately reminded me of our evening together last month at the beach. Time seemed to stand still as we explored the contours of each other’s mouths, our tongues intertwining.

Breathless and yearning for more, we reluctantly parted, our eyes locked in a silent exchange of understanding and desire.

It was a kiss that spoke volumes, conveying a shared history of pain and redemption. It was furious and desperate. It had the taste of anger and yet the embodiment of freedom. As we lingered in that intimate embrace, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us bound together by an unbreakable bond.

Finally, the officiant snapped us out of the haze we had found ourselves in.

“Please rise. It is my great honor to introduce to you, Mr. and Mrs. Marchetti.” I must have looked drunk because I swear I couldn’t feel my knees in that moment.

I heard clapping and turned to look at my parents for the first time since the ceremony started. My father looked like he had lost a battle, and my mother was thrilled, applauding along with family and friends.

We were ushered inside the house, and Elio tugged us into my father’s office. I pulled the poof in immediately and shut the door behind him. He was leaning against the wooden desk and had that stupid grin plastered on his face.

I strode toward him, my hand swinging with unbridled fury as I delivered a resounding slap across his cheek.

“Cazzo(Fuck)!” he cursed, his hand instinctively flying to his stinging cheek. “You’re a fiery one, aren’t you? But I already knew that,” he uttered with a sneer, pulling me closer until our bodies pressed tightly together.

My anger burned hot, and I confronted him, my voice trembling with frustration. “I’m livid with you. Why didn’t you have the decency to tell me about your damn plan from the beginning? It felt like a betrayal, like you schemed behind my back.” I lowered my gaze, feeling a twinge of vulnerability seep through my anger. “I had just confided in you about the importance of forging my own path, and it seemed like you took control of it.”

His demeanor softened, his thumb tenderly brushing against my cheek as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I am so sorry, rosa mia. I didn’t mean for it to look like that. I was just trying to protect you.”

We were interrupted by someone opening the door. Elio pulled the weapon from his waistband again. Well, one of them. I had lived as a Mafia princess most of my life, but even I knew this was an excessive number of guns present at a wedding.

Ricardo, Julian, and Alex all entered the small office.

“Congratulations, Elio.” Ricardo went in for a hug, but my eyes narrowed on Julian.

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