Page 153 of Mafia Kings: Dario

When Niccolo saw my face, he chuckled. “Don’t worry, they wouldneverdo anything on your wedding day. It would be aninfamia.”

An infamy –a wicked, horrible thing.

“Plus, we didn’t let their guards bring in any guns… so we’d just kill them,” Niccolo said cheerfully as he waved at someone else.

“Wonderful,” I muttered.

Caterina was my only female friend, so I’d asked her to be my maid of honor two weeks before. She had immediately said yes.

Now she beamed at me as the makeup artist from Rome put the final touches on me before the ceremony.

“You look so beautiful,” Cat sighed. “Like a fairytale princess.”

“Maybe you’ll get yourownfairytale prince!”

“Not gonna lie – you’ve given me hope,” she grinned. “Ifyoucan snag a Rosolini…”

Finally it was time for the ceremony, which took place in the field behind the mansion. Gorgeous flower arrangements lined the white chairs set out for the attendees.

But I didn’t look at any of them as my beaming father walked me down the aisle.

I only had eyes for Dario.

He stood at the altar in a tuxedo and a small white rose pinned to his lapel.

He smiled at me as I came down the aisle. I had never seen him look happier – or more handsome.

Adriano was his best man. The other brothers would have served as groomsmen, but I only had one bridesmaid. Everyone else agreed they wanted to make sure the wedding was safe as possible.

“That’ll be our present to you,” Massimo had joked the night before the wedding.

To me, it wasn’t a joke. Their protectiveness was a sign of their love for me.

The priest – a cardinal from the Vatican – led the ceremony.

When he said, “You may now kiss the bride,” Dario wrapped his arms around me and gave me a kiss that made everyone in the audience cheer.

56

As beautiful as the wedding was, the dinner afterwards was even better. The tables were outside, and we enjoyed the fading twilight as the gorgeous hills of Tuscany lit up with violet and amber skies.

People drank and laughed and feasted. Children played and chased each other in the gardens.

I talked some more with my grandmother, who told me stories about my mother when she was a child.

My father got drunk and bonded with Massimo and Niccolo. They all laughed uproariously.

The only slightly sour note was when Fausto came up to congratulate us. Thankfully Aurelio stayed away.

“You look beautiful,” Fausto told me as he air-kissed my cheeks.

“Thank you,” I said as pleasantly as I could.

I remembered his last visit to the estate too well to betoofriendly with him.

“And you – congratulations to you, nephew,” he said to Dario.

“I think you mean‘Don Rosolini,’”Niccolo said pointedly.

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