I stare at myself in the mirror, hardly able to wrap my head around the woman looking back at me.
That woman, she’s standing there in the most beautiful wedding dress I have ever seen—a vintage creation with a drop skirt and delicate lace around the bodice and neckline, tailored to fit perfectly. And her auburn hair has been perfectly curled and styled, her face made up into a vision that would make sense on the front cover of some fancy beauty magazine.
Among the flowers of my bouquet is a peacock feather, matching the tattoo on my thigh—matching the mask I wore on the night we met, a reminder of all the twisted-up luck that brought Luca to the woman he’s going to marry.
And that woman—that woman is me.
I hear a knock on the door and glance around. A moment later, Cara dips into the room, wearing a light-blue dress that she picked out for her gig as my maid of honor. I told her I wasn’t going to insist on her wearing anything in particular, just whatever she felt truly comfortable in, and she looks lovely.
She clasps her hands to her chest as she gazes at me, grinning widely.
“Look at you!” she exclaims. “You look gorgeous. Luca is a lucky man, Katie.”
“Thank you,” I giggle, tucking a loose strand of hair back behind my ear. Even though we opted to keep the ceremony small and personal, I was lucky enough to work with an amazing hairstylist and makeup artist to turn me into the bride I am right now, and I still can’t quite make sense of the fact that at the end of today I am going to be someone’s wife.
No, not just someone—Luca’s wife. My heart skips a beat at the thought.
In all the planning for this day, that’s the one thing that I’ve been holding onto above all else, the knowledge that I will get to call him my husband. It feels almost sacred, this bond that we’re about to make to each other. I’ve never been religious, but if I believed in fate, I would say it brought us together for a reason.
“Are you ready? I think everyone’s in their seats downstairs,” Cara asks, and I nod, smoothing down my dress one last time.
“As I’ll ever be,” I reply, my voice slightly shaky. But it’s not nerves, no—it’s excitement. When all this is over, I will have the ring on my finger that defines me as part of the Mariana family, as Luca’s wife and partner in all things, and I have been waiting for what feels like a lifetime to finally say that to myself.
“Then let’s get down there,” she replies, as she loops her arm through mine and leads me out of the hotel room and down to the altar where my husband is waiting for me.
Luca really meant it when he said he was willing to give me anything I wanted for this special day—big or small, he’s gone out of his way to ensure I have it, and I’m so grateful for all the space he’s given me to make this perfect. In the end, I opted for a smaller wedding, one that is focused around us and our immediate family and friends. Though there has been plenty of gossip around the city about the eldest Mariana brother getting married, there are no more than a half dozen people actually attending the wedding, and that’s including Polly. She is currently sequestered on her grandfather’s lap, where he’s doting over her as he always does when he gets some time alone with her.
It’s the most perfect late-summer day, sunlight streaming in through the large windows that line the stairs which lead from my room to the space where the wedding will take place. Though the air is starting to get a little colder now, I have no fear about what the winter will bring—in our beautiful Italian villa, Luca always finds a way to keep me warm, and I doubt that will change anytime soon.
Cara gives my hand a squeeze as we reach the door, picking up her bouquet—it matches her dress, a spray of bright blue baby’s breath. She plants a hand on the door, and inside I can hear music playing as the small quartet we hired to perform for us fills the air with classical music.
And with that, she steps inside, leading the way, beginning the wedding at last. I lift my bouquet to my chest. It’s big enough that I could hide behind it if I wanted to, but I have no intention of doing such a thing. No, this isn’t like when we first met, when we were both disguising the truth of who we really were to one another—I have laid myself open for him completely in the months since then, and I know that he loves every inch of me, taking every part of me in stride and loving it like he might never get the chance again.
I follow Cara into the hall where the wedding is taking place—and as soon as I step inside, my eyes fall to him. God, he looks gorgeous, like a male model plucked straight from the pages of some high-class fashion runaway, a blue suit making his silver hair pop, his eyes flashing with emotion as soon as he sees me. A grin that looks as though it could crack his face in two spreads across his lips as I make my way toward him, picking my way reverently toward the altar—and toward the rest of my life with him.
He offers me a hand to help me up the steps, and as soon as our fingertips meet, I feel a little shiver rush through me. Even now, after all this time, there’s something about his touch that sets me on fire. That first night, at the masquerade ball, I could never have guessed that I would end up here, standing opposite him at an altar and preparing to marry into a mafia family—but I know it’s where I belong.
Where I have always belonged.
I cast a glance out toward the small crowd gathered around us as the officiant prepares her notes. Marco is there, along with Emil—Polly is sitting between them, propped up in one of the seats with Marco’s arm around her to balance her upright. I can’t help but smile when I lay eyes on her. Though she would hardly have sat still for the makeup or hairstyling, she’s wearing the most adorable little blue dress, and Cara insisted on tucking a couple flowers from my bouquet into her hair before we came down here. My little girl—the person who brought her father and me together again. I owe her so much, and I intend to spend the rest of my life paying her back for it.
And then, I turn to look at the man before me—the man who is about to become my husband. Up close, he looks even more handsome, if that’s possible. In fact, in the last few months, since we moved to the city, I feel like I’ve grown to find him more and more attractive with every passing day. Falling more and more in love with him, seeing more and more of the little details that define him as a person. All those parts that nobody else has ever been around long enough to take in—I get to indulge myself in them, and I know there’s still so much more for me to find out.
“Are you ready to begin?” the officiant asks, glancing between us.
Luca nods. “Yes, I am,” he replies, and he casts his gaze to me, his grip tightening on my hand. It’s not the first time he’s seen me in my dress—we’ve done things so out of order, what with having Polly before we even knew each other’s names, I figured I didn’t have to worry about bad luck. But he did drip some sweet words in my ear about taking that dress off of me as soon as he got the chance, and I can’t help but let my mind drift back to that promise, even as we stand here ready to pledge ourselves to one another.
“Me too,” I whisper back, hardly able to get the words out. The emotion is nearly overwhelming—and as the officiant begins the ceremony, I struggle to contain the tears that want to leap to my eyes. God, no, not with all this makeup on…
“Do you, Katie Kincaid,” she begins, turning to me, “take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband—in sickness, in health, in wealth and in worry, in good times and bad?”
“Yes,” I reply, as I gaze up at him. “Yes, I do.”
“And do you, Luca—”
“Whatever you’re going to say,” he cuts her off with a grin. “I do.”
A chuckle runs around the room—while the officiant still has to read out the vows for him to agree to, he hardly seems to be taking them in, instead keeping his eyes on me like he can barely believe this is happening.
“You are now husband and wife,” the officiant announces. “You may kiss—”
But she hardly gets the words out before Luca reaches over and pulls me into his arms, planting a kiss against my lips—the very first kiss, I realize, that we are going to share as husband and wife. A swell of excitement rises up in my chest, and I kiss him back, hardly remembering for a moment that there are other people in this room.
When he pulls away, I’m a little giddy, and I’m sure my cheeks are flushed. I can hardly lift my hand long enough to let him slip the ring onto my finger, the small gold band subtle compared to my engagement ring. It’s not about how it looks, it’s about what it feels like—how it feels to see that band on my finger, and know that it means I belong to him. That I will for all eternity.
I push the ring onto his finger, and just like that, it’s over—we are married. He slips his hand into mine and turns toward his family, gathered just a few yards in front of us—as soon as he looks over at them, Polly raises her arms and begins to fuss to be picked up.
Everyone laughs as he goes over to pick her up, lifting her into his arms and leaning her against his chest. One of the flowers is already threatening to fall from her hair, but as she gazes up at her father, I know she couldn’t care less. All that matters to her is that she’s here with him, and now that we’re married, I know he’s not going anywhere. Not that he was before, but still—making this promise in front of people secures it for life.
“Hey, little lady, tired of the attention not being on you?” he teases her lightly. The way he speaks to her always makes me smile—with such warmth and kindness, like all he wants in the world is to make her happy. He has admitted to me that he never thought of himself as a father before he walked into that delivery room and realized that he had become one, whether he liked it or not. But as he holds Polly now, I can tell that he was always meant to be—and I have no doubt that it won’t be long until we bring a few more of his beautiful babies into the world.
“Does that mean we can get to the reception?” Emil remarks, draping his arm along the back of the pew. “Because I’ve been waiting for that food all day…”
“It does,” I assure my new brother-in-law. Emil and I still need time to get to know each other more, but I see some of Luca in him, his sharp tongue, his wit. He dotes over Polly, and that’s all that matters to me. Even as he rises to his feet now and squeezes her little hand, I can’t help but feel a swell of emotion, realizing how much more she’s going to have than I did.
I haven’t had my parents at my side for most of my life. Not that I ever blamed them for their absence, of course, and not that I think for an instant that they would have chosen for things to go this way if they’d had a choice. But I know that, no matter what, Polly is always going to have family who adore her—whether that’s her father and me, or Cara, or Emil and Marco, she will have people at her side who will do everything in their power to give her the life she deserves.
The life that is spread out ahead of her, ready for the taking.
“You know what, I’m ready for that food too,” I agree, as I lean my head onto Luca’s shoulder.
“Yeah, let me loosen this corset so I can fit everything in,” Cara jokes, drawing another laugh from around the room. In this business, the world of the mafia, I know that not all days are going to feel as peaceful and as joyful as this, which means I need to cling to the ones I have with even more certainty.
And that’s exactly what I intend to do.
We leave the hall, streaming out of the hotel and into the bright sunlight outside—and Luca catches my arm and pulls me back before I can make it to the car that’s waiting to whisk us off to the restaurant we have booked for the night.
I turn to him, my lips parting to ask what the problem is, but before I can say anything, he leans down to kiss me again. The connection of his mouth to mine knocks the breath from my lungs for a moment, and when he pulls back, he’s grinning like he knows it.
“I love you,” he tells me. “Wife.”
“And I love you too,” I shoot back, cocking an eyebrow. “But if you keep me from my dinner any longer, we might have a problem…”
He laughs and lets me lead the way—and as I slip into the car and lean back against the leather seat, I reach out my hand to pull him in after me. I can’t stand to be apart from him, even for a second.
But the good news is, after today, I’ll never have to be apart from him again.
And that sounds as close to perfect as I can imagine.
The End
