"Congratulations,bella."
Enzo's voice slid over me like cold oil. I turned and found him standing too close, his pale eyes traveling down my dress with that familiar, proprietary assessment.
"You look radiant." He smiled. The same smile from a decade ago—charming on the surface, poisonous underneath. "Marriage suits you. I always knew it would."
My throat closed. Words evaporated. All my careful preparation, all my rehearsed composure—none of it worked. My body remembered before my mind could catch up.
"The groom is a lucky man." Enzo stepped closer. Not touching, but close enough that I could smell his cologne—the same expensive scent from a thousand nightmares. "I hope he appreciates what he has. Some men don't know how to handle precious things. They let them slip away."
I couldn't breathe. My champagne glass trembled in my grip.
Then a hand settled on the small of my back. Warm. Steady. Unmistakably possessive.
"Don Valenti." Dante's voice was pleasant. The kind of pleasant that meant nothing good. "Thank you for coming."
He'd appeared from nowhere. One second I was alone with a monster, and the next my husband was beside me, his bodyangled between us like a shield. His hand pressed firmer against my spine, and I realized he could feel me trembling—could feel every small shake I couldn't control.
Enzo's smile didn't waver. "Don Caruso. Congratulations on your marriage. The Morettis must be proud—such a valuable alliance."
"We're fortunate to have Gemma in our family." Dante's voice was silk over steel. "She's already beloved by everyone who matters."
Something flickered in Enzo's pale eyes. Annoyance, maybe. Or recognition that he was being outmaneuvered.
"I'm sure she is." He lifted his champagne glass in a small salute. "I knew her when she was young, you know. Watched her grow into quite a woman. It's gratifying to see her so well-settled."
The subtext was a knife. I felt it slide between my ribs, cold and familiar.
Dante's hand moved on my back. A small stroke, almost imperceptible. Soothing.
"I'm sure you have other guests to greet," he said. Still pleasant. Still deadly. "We appreciate you paying your respects."
A dismissal, wrapped in courtesy. Enzo heard it clearly.
He retreated with that knowing smile, the one that said this isn't over. The one that had haunted my dreams for a decade. He walked back toward his table, and I watched him go, and my whole body was shaking.
"Breathe."
Dante's voice was low enough that only I could hear. His hand pressed firmer against my spine—grounding, anchoring, holding me in the present when my mind wanted to flee into the past.
“You’ll get through this.”
Four words. Simple. Almost nothing.
But they hit me harder than the kiss had.
I shouldn't find comfort in those words. I knew that. Knew that trusting powerful men was how I'd been broken before. Knew that Dante Caruso was a mafia don, capable of violence and manipulation and all the dark things that came with this life.
But he'd appeared the instant I needed him. He'd put himself between me and danger without hesitation. He'd read my trembling for what it was and responded with gentleness instead of questions.
I found comfort anyway.
I let myself lean into his hand, just slightly. Let my breathing slow. Let his warmth seep into the cold places Enzo had left behind.
Thehoursblurredtogetherafter that. Toasts and first dances and cake, each ritual passing in a haze while I performed flawlessly on the outside and fell apart on the inside.
I smiled at the appropriate moments. I laughed at Marco's toast, which was funny and irreverent and made the older guests clutch their pearls. I accepted hugs from Donatella and handshakes from men whose names I'd already forgotten. I cut the cake with Dante's hand warm over mine on the knife handle, feeding him a bite while cameras flashed and guests cheered.
The perfect mafia bride. Exactly what I'd been trained to be.
