"I love you too," I tell her, meaning it with every fiber of my being.
She disappears inside the house, and I walk back to my car, getting in and sitting there for a moment in the darkness. I can't stop smiling as the reality of everything that just happened washes over me.
Liana Costa loves me, and I'm the luckiest bastard alive.
Chapter 31: Liana
Three weeks is all it takes to put together a wedding when the wedding was already planned down to the last detail.
The flowers, the venue, the dresses—Mama had kept everything from the original alliance wedding "just in case." When I told her we were getting married after all, that Santino and I had chosen each other instead of being forced together by contracts and tradition, she cried for an hour straight, clutching my hands and saying "I knew it, I knew you two would figure it out" until I had to physically sit her down and make her drink water.
Now I’m staring at my reflection in the full-length mirror, trying to reconcile the woman looking back at me with the girl who plotted to drive her future husband away.
The dress is perfect—ivory silk that catches the afternoon light streaming through the stained-glass windows, fitted through the bodice in a way that makes me feel both elegant and powerful, then flowing from the waist in soft waves that pool slightly on the marble floor.
It's exactly what I would have chosen if I'd been picking for myself, which I suppose I am now, even though technically Mama chose it weeks ago when she still thought I was being forced into this marriage.
Strange how the same dress can mean two completely different things depending on what's in your heart when you wear it.
"You look beautiful," Gia says from behind me, her reflection appearing in the mirror next to mine. She's stunningin her bridesmaid dress, a deep emerald green that brings out the warmth in her dark eyes.
"I look nervous," I counter, watching my own hands fidget with the delicate lace on my sleeves, unable to stay still even though I'm trying to project calm confidence.
"You look happy," Gia corrects, stepping forward to adjust my veil. "And that's all that matters.”
There's a soft knock on the heavy wooden door before Mama enters, already dabbing at her eyes with an embroidered handkerchief, her mascara somehow still perfect despite the tears.
"Don't cry yet," I tell her, even though I know it's futile. "Save it for the ceremony, Mama. You'll want to see through the veil when Papa walks me down the aisle."
"I can't help it. My baby girl is getting married." She crosses the room in a rustle of silk, cupping my face in her hands with a tenderness that makes my own eyes sting. "And not because she has to. Not because it was arranged or forced or expected. Because she wants to. Because she's in love."
"Because I love him," I confirm, the words coming easier now than they would have even a week ago, when admitting my feelings for Santino still felt like exposing a vulnerable part of myself.
"I know, darling. We all know." Mama's smile is soft and knowing, carrying the weight of all the things she saw that I thought I was hiding. "Even when you were trying so hard to drive him away, to make him hate you, to end the engagement—I could see it. The way you looked at him when you thought no one was watching. The way your whole face would light up when he walked into a room, right before you remembered you were supposed to be acting difficult."
"Was I that obvious?" I ask, genuinely curious about how much of my internal struggle was written across my face for everyone to read.
"Only to your mother," she assures me, pressing a kiss to my forehead that's careful not to disturb my makeup. "A mother always knows these things. Are you ready?"
Am I ready?
I think about Santino and the past three weeks. The dinners where we actually talk. The late-night phone calls that last for hours because neither of us wants to hang up. The way he let me drive his Maserati last week, his knuckles white on the door handle as I took the curves too fast, but he never once told me to slow down.
The way he shows up at the port just to bring me pastries because he knows I forget to eat when I'm focused on work. The way he kisses me goodnight and makes me promise to call when I get inside safe. The way he's never once tried to take over my business or treated me as anything less than his complete equal.
"Yes," I say finally, meeting Mama's eyes in the mirror with a certainty that settles deep in my bones. "I'm ready."
Mama and Gia help me with the final touches—securing the veil with its delicate pearl pins, and handing me my bouquet of white roses and peonies that smell like summer. The flowers are perfect, tied with ivory ribbon that matches my dress.
"It's time," Gia says softly.
The moment when everything changes and my life as Liana Costa officially ends so that my life as Liana Marcello can begin.
We leave the bridal suite, walking through the hallway of the church with its vaulted ceilings and paintings of saints looking down at us with serene expressions.
Papa is waiting at the entrance to the sanctuary, standing tall and imposing in his custom-made suit, every inch the powerful Don who's commanded respect in this city for decades. But when he sees me, his expression softens in a way I've only seen a handful of times in my life, usually when he thinks no one is watching and lets his guard down enough to show the father beneath the fearsome reputation.
"Liana." He takes both my hands in his, careful not to crush the bouquet, his grip strong and steady and reassuring. "You're gorgeous. The most beautiful bride I've ever seen."
