“We did.” His voice hardens. “Though I’m still in a bit of shock over it. Marco of all people. Your father was the one to let the cat out of the bag.”
My stomach drops at that revelation.Marco…
“What are you going to do?” I ask gingerly.
“I’ll do what needs to be done to keep this family safe.” He hugs me, pulling me against his strong body, nuzzling my neck as he continues. “But that’s a problem for tomorrow. Just promise me, you’ll stay clear of the shed out back for the next few days, alright?”
Ah, yes, the shed. Raffaello had given me a fair warning about that place early on in my time at the mansion. I wouldn’t be going near it tomorrow or any other day, honestly.
“I promise.”
“Good.” He pulls back again, cupping my face and kissing me gently. “Now let’s go back inside before —”
“Papa? Chloe?” Emmanuel’s voice calls out from inside, a hint of fear evident in his tone.
“Coming,” I called out loud enough for him to hear. “I told you he was going to wake up.”
Basili laughs at the disgruntledI told you soface that I give him, then leads the way back inside. We climb into the big King-sized bed on either side of Emmanuel and link our arms behind his head. One happy family.
Curled up between us, Emmanuel drifts back to sleep, safe, loved, and home for good.
* * *
The wedding is six weeks later.
Six chaotic weeks of planning and preparing as things slowly find a new sense of normal around the mansion. Emmanuel continues to speak more frequently, coming further out of his shell as the days pass. He still has nightmares sometimes, but they’re becoming less frequent.
Shufen agreed to work with Basili to broker peace between the Triad and the Italian Families after our father’s death. She arranged a hefty offering of resources in exchange for forgiveness on their behalf and for a chance to rebuild without all-out war. Basili accepted, and now, she’s the head of what’s left of the Triad, cleaning house, rooting out the loyalists and separatists, and showing an entirely new side of herself.
She’s also agreed to be my maid of honor.
The wedding is at the mansion in the largest of the parlors on a cold winter day. A fire burns in the fireplace, snow falls lightlyoutside the windows, and the sun shines dimly through the large windows.
My dress makes me feel like a queen — Ivory silk in a mermaid cut with all the right lace details. Shufen helped me choose it, of course; we’d both cried at the boutique when I’d tried it on.
“You look beautiful, little sister,” she whispers as she adjusts my veil. “Your mother would be so proud.”
Jay made the drive to New York for the wedding, and I asked him to walk me down the aisle — after all he’s the most fatherly figure I’ve had in my life. The man who took in a sixteen-year-old and gave her a home.
“I’m so happy for you, kiddo,” he tells me as we make our way to the makeshift altar where Basili is waiting.
The ceremony is simple but gorgeous. Omero stands beside Basili as best man, his eyes constantly wandering to Shufen. Emmanuel serves as the ring bearer, beaming with joy in his little suit. Raffaelly, Maria, and a few others are there, cleaned up and in suits and gowns.
And Basili.
My God, Basili looks devastating in his tuxedo, his eyes locked on me as I walk toward him, his smile full of love. When I reach him, and Jay hands me off, I’m so filled with joy I can barely breathe.
We agreed to keep the vows traditional, but when Basili says, “I do,” he adds, “for as long as we both shall live and beyond.”
And when I say, “I do,” I mean it with every piece of me. There is no one else for either one of us in life or in death.
The reception is perfect — dinner, music, dancing, it’s a celebration to remember, but as the evening winds down, Basili leans close and whispers, “Ready to get out of here? I’m greedy, I want you all to myself, Mrs. Cierro.”
My heart leaps as he saysMrs. Cierro, and I’ve honestly never been happier.
“Where are we going?’
“You’ll see.”
