The Bellanti Mafia needs a new dawn. My father has left us balancing on the edge of war for too long.
The men who refused to bow to a woman, who swore they would never answer to a future Donna—they are gone now.
At my command, Milo made sure of it.
Another difficulty stood in our way, a Bratva heir marrying the future Bellanti leader. People had plenty to say about that.
But I don’t care.
Especially now that Milo has severed every tie he ever had with the Bratva, and today he takes the Bellanti name.
He said his own was tainted, that he would never ask me to wear it, never put that on me. But he wanted us to share one name.
So he chose to be a Bellanti.
Today is about us. Despite everything, we are making it official, and I am happy.
“Arlo is losing his mind,” my sister says lightly, breaking my thoughts.
I laugh. “I suspect that was Milo’s intention.”
“I knew he did it on purpose. Such a hurry to get married,” Piper adds.
Adelaide says dryly, “You’re getting married next month. He’ll survive.”
“I know,” Ophelia sighs. “It took me ages to convince him not to move our date earlier so we could be the first to get married.”
Adelaide rolls her eyes. “Ridiculous. The lot of them.”
My sister looks at me, her eyes softening. “You look beautiful.”
Before I can answer, there’s a knock at the door. It opens, and my mother steps in, already in tears.
“Mamma,” I warn gently. “If you cry, I’ll cry. And if I cry, my makeup is ruined, and I refuse to sit through that again. And I also have a reputation to uphold.”
She laughs through her tears and takes my hand, turning me slowly to admire my hair and makeup.
It is simple, liner, a little blush, lipstick. It brings out my green eyes. My rose pink hair is pinned into a low bun, the long veil already in place.
“You look lovely,” she whispers, kissing my temple. “I’m so happy you found real love.” She casts a look at my sister. “Both of you.”
I smile at her. “I did,” I say. “I promise.”
She reaches into a small velvet box and takes out a pearl necklace. “Something new,” she says softly. Then she opens another box, inside is a beautiful hair clip. She smiles. “Something borrowed.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, and turn so she can fasten it.
Adelaide snorts when she notices the writing on the back of my robe.
“Property of Milo? Charming. Why didn’t he engrave it on your forehead and spare us the suspense?”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “For the genius you pretend to be, you’re terrible at reading. It says Milo’s bride.”
She gives me a look of pure distaste. “Same meaning, really.”
“He’s so extra,” Piper mutters. “And obsessed, almost frightening.”
Adelaide sends her a pointed look. “Have you seen the way Hunter looks at you?”
