Page 66 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince
There are many familiar faces here, but my gaze rests for a longer breath on Enzo, the Salvatore hitman.
From what I know, he was given his freedom after fulfilling a long-standing obligation to Luca.
On his arm is Aria Lombardi.
That pulls a little smile from me, and she returns it.
A love story for the ages, after all.
Good for them.
The music begins, stringed instruments playing slow and dignified.
The hush deepens.
The twins are already at the front, Alessia holding a small bouquet, Arietta holding a velvet cushion that carries the rings.
They are both standing on tiptoe to see better, craning their necks toward where Dante waits with Marco on one side and Luca on the other.
I feel the heat of every eye as I walk forward.
But I keep my gaze ahead.
Dante looks good in black.
Not flashy.
Not ostentatious.
It’s just a fine tailored suit that fits him like it was made for no one else, his hair combed back but still stubborn at the edges.
There’s a tightness around his mouth, and something unreadable in his eyes, but he doesn’t look away.
Neither do I.
The officiant speaks words that sound both ancient and binding.
When the moment comes to repeat my vows, I do so clearly, without wavering.
I speak the lines as required, but I don't soften them with my eyes.
When Dante repeats his, his voice is low, steady, and comfortingly calm.
The ring is slipped onto my finger, a simple band made of white gold.
I do the same.
A pair of doves are released, though no one watches them for long.
The kiss is brief.
A brush of mouths that barely touches.
Just enough to seal the contract in the eyes of the people around us.
There is no cheering.
Just polite applause, the scraping of chairs, the rise of music again as the guests begin to flow toward the reception tables.
