My knees go weak. Marina's hand tightens on my elbow, steadying me.
The world could end right now. The ceiling could collapse, the floor could open up and swallow us whole, and I'd die content having seen Lorenzo Sartori smile like that.
If there's another life after this one, I'll search for that smile. I'll cross oceans and centuries to find it again.
"Breathe," Marina whispers.
I force air into my lungs as we reach the bottom step.
"Beautiful," Lorenzo says. His eyes travel from my face to the dress and back.
Dante clears his throat. "We should move. The photographer's already at the church, setting up for the ceremony shots."
"Photographer?" My voice comes out higher than intended.
"Just for the ceremony," Dante explains, checking his phone. "Family only. But after—" He looks up, his expression serious. "After the ceremony ends, we go public. The photos will be everywhere within an hour."
Lorenzo takes my hand, his thumb brushing mine. "Tomorrow night's reception is listed as a charity gala. Half of Chicago's elite already have invitations."
"They think they're attending a fundraiser," Vittoria adds with dark amusement. "Wait until they realize it's your wedding reception."
"By the time guests arrive tomorrow, everyone will know you're married. No room for doubt, no space for challenges." Dante says.
"Smart," Marina says, though her grip on my arm suggests she's not entirely comfortable with the plan.
"Pietro's idea," Lorenzo says. "Control the narrative before anyone else can spin it."
Dante opens the front door. Three black SUVs idle in the driveway, engines running. "Pietro and Nico are already at thechurch with Father Miguel. Bruno..." He pauses. "Bruno sends his regrets."
Lorenzo's about to talk, but he says nothing.
"Small ceremony today," Dante continues, helping Vittoria into the first SUV. "Tomorrow, we make a statement."
He helps me manage the dress as I slide into the leather seat. Marina climbs in after me, then Lorenzo enters from the other side, sandwiching me between them.
"The photographer's discrete," Dante says from the front passenger seat as our driver pulls away. "Old family friend. He knows what shots we need. We need for sure to sell the romance."
Sell the romance.
Lorenzo's hand finds mine among the white silk. His thumb traces circles on my palm, and I wonder if he feels me trembling.
Lorenzo
Father Miguel's voice echoes through the empty church, but I barely hear the words.
Sophia stands across from me at the altar, and Christ, she's going to kill me. The dress clings to her curves before flowing out like water.
Mine.
The word pounds through my blood with every heartbeat. I want to grab her hand, pull her down the aisle, and disappear. Fuck the reception tomorrow. Fuck Chicago's crime families and their politics. Fuck everyone who isn't her.
"Lorenzo?" Father Miguel prompts.
I blink. Pietro shifts behind me. Across from us, Marina stands as Sophia's maid of honor, watching me.
"I do," I say, though I missed whatever Father Miguel asked.
Sophia's lips twitch. She knows I wasn't listening.
