Page 14 of His Wife

“How are you feeling?” I ask, giving the nurse a silent nod to move to the side, and I slip behind his wheelchair.

“It was a good few days with your mother. We needed that.”

“No, I mean, how are you feeling?”

Nicoli walks beside us.

“Oh, you mean whether I feel any less than death after our mini getaway? No. No, I don’t.”

Nicoli and I look at each other, our mutual worry evident.

“Are you sure you’re up for this party?” Nicoli asks, and my father holds up his hand to bring us to a stop. Without glancing at us, he sits straight in the wheelchair.

“Thirty-five years. I’ve been married to your mother for thirty-five years. Some people don’t even live that long. So, if you’re asking whether I’m up to celebrating that with your mother, I’d say it’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.” He sucks in a breath as if a thought had torn through his chest. “This will be the last celebration I spend with her, and I intend to make the most of it.”

His exhaustion whirls through the air like a blight, and with the chandelier’s light glowing down on him, he appears like a war-torn soldier—a man who has fought his last war and is now an ailing man who wants nothing more than to love his wife during the last few moments of his life.

An intense sadness burns my eyes, and I look down at the black blanket covering his legs. Memories of him standing in this exact same spot—healthy and regal—tug at the heartstrings of the little boy I once was. A boy who, no matter the differences we had, looked up to his father. A boy whose chest would swell with pride every time Vincenzo Del Rossa introduced him as his son. I am still that boy. I am still that boy who would do anything to make his father proud.

“Now, how about you help me look as dapper as the two of you.”

My father smirks, and Nicoli pulls his fingers through his hair. “Although Alexius and I are miracle workers, we do not possess the power of God.”

I cock a brow. “Speak for yourself.”

ChapterSix

LEANDRA

Ienter the large, high-ceiling tent. It’s like stepping into a different world. A fairy tale. Thousands of fairy lights are draped across the roof, their muted glow casting an enchanted spell into the night—like fireflies that came together to celebrate the eternal love of two people.

Round tables decorated with the champagne tablecloths and crystal vase centerpieces Mira and I selected have been perfectly arranged all around the dance floor in the middle of the tent. A soft coral carpet leads from the entryway to the wooden-deck dance floor, where an elegant arch adorned with white roses and sparkling champagne chiffon waits for Mr. and Mrs. Del Rossa to renew their wedding vows.

Gentle music plays in the background, keeping guests' chatter calm as everyone seems to bask in the romance drifting in the air.

I greet some guests as I make my way to our table. Maximo is already seated, but like a hawk, his gaze hovers, watching over the crowd, always alert and searching for a threat. During my weeks here, Maximo and I have hardly spoken. It’s easy to see where his loyalty lies, how he dedicates every minute of his life to the Del Rossa family. The man is like a brick wall, steadfast and impenetrable, except when it comes to his sister. He's protective of her, kind to her. I’ve never seen a man’s expression go from brutal and cruel to affectionate and kind so fast whenever Mira is around. I envy that. The bond they share. I often wonder what it would have been like if I had a sister or brother, if we’d share the same connection. But then I thank God my parents weren’t blessed with another life they could ruin. I managed to survive my dad’s depravities and my mother’s addiction, but I’m not so sure I would have if I had another person to keep out of their twisted grasps.

Caelian and Isaia walk up to the arch. It’s always weird seeing Isaia in a suit, his discomfort noticeable from a mile away. He’s been keeping his distance from me lately, which is probably a good thing considering the line he crossed when he kissed me that night after Alexius decided his brother could watch while he made me come. I suppose that’s what happens when you play with fire; someone always gets burnt. And that’s one of the reasons Alexius chose to keep the third participant in our one night of sharing a secret—a precautionary measure so no fuses could be lit between any of us.

A soft melody starts to play, and all the guests get up on their feet as Mr. Del Rossa walks down the aisle with Mira by his side. My heart aches when I see how slow his steps are, Mira’s arm hooked into his elbow, a way for her to guide him and support him as he makes his way to the arch. Every second is beautiful and emotional, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop the tears from falling.

Mr. Del Rossa joins his two sons, and Mira walks off, joining us at the table.

We glance down the aisle to where Alexius stands at his mother’s right side while Nicoli takes his place on her left. Her hands are gently slipped in the crooks of her two oldest sons’ elbows, their tall frames towering at either side of her.

Alexius finds me, our eyes pinned as they start down the aisle. The instrumental melody of “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran starts playing, and there’s no more stopping my tears. Mrs. Del Rossa looks beautiful in the beige satin dress Mira had chosen, a soft champagne shawl placed around her shoulders. But it’s the sight of Alexius looking down at his mother. The care and devotion in his sapphire eyes are more powerful than any magic, and it takes my breath away. Alexius and Nicoli carefully guide her, holding on to her as if she might drift away if they didn’t. It’s beautiful and disarming to see such strong, powerful men unashamed to put their love for their mother on full display for the whole world to see. For the first time, I realize they aren’t just the Dark Sovereign. They are a family. They are blood, their bond stronger than all the wealth and power in the world.

I wipe at my tears as they pass, and I’m taken aback when Alexius pauses for just a moment, reaching out, cupping my cheek and placing the most tender and loving kiss on my forehead—a kiss that rippled all the way to the marrow of my bones. A kiss that held more affection than any act I’ve ever experienced. In front of all these people, during a moment laced with romance and filled with magic, Alexius stops time for a second to give me a glimpse of his heart.

There’s a tap on my shoulder, and Maximo holds out a navy blue handkerchief, which I take, carefully dabbing at my eyes and cheeks.

Both Alexius and Nicoli kiss their mother on the cheek and slip in place at her side. It’s a picture-perfect moment, two parents surrounded by their sons.

The surprise mixed with every emotion is solid on Mrs. Del Rossa’s face as she gazes at her husband, mouthing the words, ‘I love you.’

The same priest who married Alexius and me starts speaking—a whole different sermon than the one he gave at our wedding. This one isn’t about finding love; it’s about love standing the test of time. About a bond stronger than any hurdle life can throw at you. Like a plant, love needs to be fed and watered, taken care of and cherished. Only then will it bloom into something so beautiful that it outshines the darkness determined to tear it apart.

With every word the priest speaks, I keep my gaze on Alexius, wondering if what we share could be nourished and watered into something equally as beautiful as the love shared between their parents. Can whatever this is between us bloom into a flower we’d both dedicate our lives to protect?

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