Chapter 18
I looked up at Vincent, finding his ice–blue eyes already on me. His expression
softened for a moment, just for me, before returning to the stern mafia boss everyone else knew.
I watched Vincent command his men, but Thomas’s words from earlier still echoed in my head. His threat about mafia
connections – how laughable it seemed
–
now. But something nagged at me, a loose thread I couldn’t quite grasp.
“You seem distracted,” Vincent’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. His hand squeezed my waist.
“Just thinking about what Thomas said earlier. About having mafia connections.” I shook my head. “Seems ridiculous now.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened. A flash of
something crossed his face – recognition? But it vanished so fast I wondered if I
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Chapter 18
imagined it.
“Thomas Rivers.” He rolled the name on his tongue like it tasted bitter. “Tell me everything you know about his supposed connections.”
I frowned. “Not much really. He’d brag sometimes about knowing powerful people, especially when drinking. Said his father had friends in high places.” I paused, remembering. “There was this one name he’d mention – called him Uncle Joey or something.”
Vincent’s fingers tensed against my skin. Marco, who’d been standing nearby, exchanged a look with him.
“Boss?” Marco stepped closer.
“Later,” Vincent cut him off, his voice carrying that edge of authority that
brooked no argument. He turned to me, his expression softening. “Don’t worry about Thomas. His threats are empty.”
But something in the way he said it, the
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Chapter 18
slight tension in his shoulders, made me wonder. Vincent was hiding something – I could feel it. Yet before I could press further, he swept me into wedding preparations, and Thomas became a distant thought.
If only I knew then what that name would unleash.
I stood before the floor–length mirror, taking in my reflection in the custom Vera Wang gown. The dress hugged my curves before flowing into a dramatic train – fit for a mafia queen, though the world only knew half that truth.
“You look beautiful, Mrs. Moretti.” Marco appeared in the doorway, his usual stoic expression softened.
“Not Mrs. Moretti yet.” I smoothed down the silk. “How many people showed up?”
“Over five hundred. Half of New York’s elite, plus…” He cleared his throat. “The other half.”
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I knew what he meant – the underground elite. The real power players.
Vincent waited at the altar in a black tuxedo that made his ice–blue eyes even more striking. As I walked down the aisle on Marco’s arm, I caught whispers from both sides of the gathering.
“That’s the Moretti Industries CEO’s bride-”
“The Viper’s woman-”
“Did you hear how much he spent-”
Vincent took my hand, his thumb brushing
over my knuckles. “Ready to rule by my side, cara mia?”
“Both worlds?” I whispered back.
His smile held that dangerous edge I’d grown to love. “Every kingdom.”
The ceremony passed in a blur until Vincent’s lips claimed mine, sealing our union. The reception that followed was a study in contrasts – politicians mingling with made men, socialites dancing
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Chapter 18
alongside capos.
“Your grandfather would be proud,” Vincent murmured in my ear as we swayed
to our first dance. “To see you take your rightful place.”
“As what? A mafia boss’s wife or a
billionaire’s bride?”
He spun me out, then pulled me back against his chest. “As the queen you were always meant to be. Both worlds bow to
you now.”
I caught sight of Marco directing security with subtle hand signals, keeping the two halves of our guest list separate yet harmonious. This was my new reality – straddling both worlds, just like Vincent.
“I love you,” I whispered against his chest.
His arms tightened around me. “Ti amo, my queen.”
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