Sandro’s twenty-three-year-old sister, Reina, and Dr. Sam are chatting excitedly as they join us.
Since Sloane is basically my only friend, I had to borrow from Sandro’s circle to match his number of groomsmen. He kept it to Gunnar, Rocco and Killian so it wouldn’t be too difficult. Luckily, Reina and Dino, their twenty-year-old brother, flew down from New York for the wedding with their father.
Giovi LaRocca is a scary man, but at least he’s supportive of our marriage. Their mother refused to come. Sandro won’t tell me why, but I can imagine. He seems relieved that she’s not here anyway, so I feel like I dodged a bullet. In their world, that could be literal.
Reina’s blue eyes are beaming as she reaches out a hand to me. The sea-foam green bridesmaid dress makes her eyes pop. “I’m so glad my brother gets the girl. He’s been in love with you forever, and he deserves to be happy. And I feel like I’m finally getting a sister.”
I hug her. “Thank you. I wish you lived closer.”
“I’m trying to convince Mother, but she’s…” she grimaces. “Difficult.”
Sam holds up her champagne glass. A smile graces her plump lips, but it seems forced, and her honey-colored eyes hold a quiet weight, a heaviness like she’s carrying secret pain. I wonder what her story is. “To true love and happy endings.”
They clink glasses. Then there’s a knock on the door.
Sloane opens it and my father is standing there looking handsome in a black tux, his gray hair slicked back, his freshly shaved face smooth with a lingering scent of aftershave.
Yeah, I caved and agreed to let him walk me down the aisle. The photo of him with Mom did it. He made her happy. Mafia boss or not, that means something to me.
His eyes crinkle in the corners as he beams. “You look beautiful, love. Alessandro is a lucky man. Ready?”
I step forward and take his offered arm, holding the bouquet against my chest. “I wish Mom was here.” I don’t know why I say it out loud. Maybe because I feel like he’s the only other person who understands.
He pats the hand that’s clutching his tux jacket. He’s looking down at me with an intense kind of joy. “I feel like she is.”
The girls gather around for one last hug, and Sloane kisses my cheek, then smacks my ass. “Go get your hot mafia prince.” Her cackle floats down the hallway behind her.
The rustic, Italian-inspired estate sits on the edge of Old Tampa Bay. We walk arm in arm down the back stairs and out to the garden. My breath catches as I take in the view. There’s a long path leading through a carpet of tropical flowers. Past that are the fifty or so guests seated in white chairs on either side of the path. Sandro did a good job of keeping the guest list small at my request.
Towering oak trees, with curtains of moss, hang over the romantic archway where Sandro, the wedding party, and the priest are waiting. A slight breeze plays with my hair and cools my skin. It truly is a perfect day.
We have about thirty minutes until sunset, so the sky is a silvery pink and peach glow on the horizon, beyond the expanse of water. A three-man band is set up beneath one of the trees, playing "Ava Maria". As my father leads me through the flower garden, they switch to the wedding march.
There’s shuffling as everyone stands and turns to watch us.
My gaze finds Sandro and my heart swells.
He’s a dark, elegant god, exuding effortless confidence in a black tailored tux that hugs his muscular frame like sin. His hair is freshly cut. His eyes are shining sapphires locked on me, and I see the devotion simmering there. I hope he can see the same in my eyes.
His three groomsmen stand behind him in tuxes and seafoam green bow ties to match the girls’ dresses. They’re all grinning at me like idiots. I can’t help but smile back atthem.
As my father stops in front of him, Sandro shakes his hand. They exchange a few words as I give my bouquet to Sloane—who already has tears sliding down her cheeks—and then he takes both my hands in his. He’s devouring me with his gaze, his expression one of desire and possession.
My stomach does a little flip.
He leans in, his breath warm in my ear. “You are the most stunning woman on the planet, Angel. And I’m the luckiest man alive.”
He pulls back and I blink back all the emotion, the tears of joy, the euphoria, the reality slamming into me. He’s finally mine.
And I’m finally his.
The ceremony goes by in a blur as we say our vows and exchange rings. When the priest gets to the, “I now pronounce you man and wife” part, Sandro sweeps me off my feet and kisses me too deeply and for too long considering we have an audience.
The guests go wild, clapping and whistling.
I break away with a breathless laugh and glare at our friends and acquaintances. “Don’t encourage him!”
He chuckles and carries me back down the path as rose petals are tossed in the air.
