Page 59 of Dario DeLuca

My foundation matches my complexion perfectly for a flawless base. I line my eyes with a fine stroke of dark eyeliner and brush my eyelids with a shimmering taupe eyeshadow that makes my eyes pop. I finish the look with a few coats of volumizing mascara, dramatically curling my lashes. Making sure my face card will not be denied, I outline my lips with a nude liner, carefully defining the full, beautiful shape, filling them in with a matte rose lipstick, and finishing my look with a gentle dust of translucent powder over my face to set it all.

Satisfied with my work, I remove my dust robe and move over to the closet where my dress for the evening hangs. Tracing the intricate design of the black dress from its lace bodice to the high slit at the thigh, I imagine that as much detail will be put into our wedding.

Or does he have it all planned?

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.

“Yes,” I call back to the person on the other side.

Dario opens the door, his shirt half-buttoned. The ink adorning his chest peeks around the plackets, still waiting to be buttoned. His hair is freshly trimmed. His signature scent awakens my senses, and my body responds in a most delicious way.

“I want to make sure you are still coming down, but I see you’re getting dressed. Rafael will escort you, and I’ll see you there.” He closes the door behind him, not giving me a moment to reply.

“Hmph, some sensitive side.” I slide into my dress, allowing the coolness of the fabric to caress my body, taming my heated thoughts of Dario.

Unable to stop thinking about Dario, I fidget with my attire for the wedding, my fingers trembling faintly while cinching the elaborate gown. Accentuating the waist is a sleek satin band, giving way to a sumptuous, smooth skirt that skims over my hips and cascades down to the floor with a satin bow at the waist. Adding a pair of black lace stilettos and a squirt of perfume, I open the door to find Rafael dressed in all black with a gold tie and handkerchief in the pocket.

“Mia, you look squisito.”Exquisite.

He uses his hand to give the sign for the chef's kiss.

“Thank you, Rafael. You clean up nicely, too.”

“Shall we?” He takes my arm and loops it through his, and we join the ceremony in the courtyard.

Gazes and whispersfall upon us as we enter the prepared area among the seated guests. I expected to sit near the back, am surprised when Rafael escorts me up to the front on the bridal side next to Mama DeLuca.

Then Rafael joins the other groomsmen, who are taken their positions by Angelo. The sun lowers just below the horizon, casting a soft glow of its radiant shine over the scenery, and the string quartet begins to play the bridal march to herald Carmela's entrance.

We stand as she takes her last walk as Carmela DeLuca. Even though resplendent in her bridal regalia, I can’t help but be drawn to the towering, broad-shouldered figure at her side. Dario.

Even from this distance, his commanding presence is magnetic, demanding every ounce of my focus. His sharply tailored tuxedo highlights his strong, confident movements.His handsome face is usually expressionless, but I see a brief softening in his dark eyes when he looks at his sister. His lips slightly curve in a smile, showing pride and warmth beneath his calm exterior.

In that moment, I see a clearer picture of the complex man who will soon be my husband. He balances an intimidating presence with moments of vulnerability, which I find unexpectedly compelling.

My heart beats faster as he approaches, every part of me focused on his commanding presence.

He seems to notice my gaze and briefly looks my way. Our eyes meet intensely, like two forces colliding.

Then, just as abruptly as it occurred, the connection severs. He continues his walk toward the altar without a shred of acknowledgment or faltering in his wake.

Yet, I'm deeply shaken, realizing that something significant has changed in this brief moment. The defenses I had built against this man and our situation have broken down, leaving me vulnerable to whatever comes next after our encounter.

As Dario takes his place beside the officiant, the image of quiet strength and menace he projects is at jarring odds with the tender smile playing across Carmela's lips as she gazes at her brother. In her adoring eyes, I see the deep loyalty and love that connect these two, the only forces strong enough to ground a man of his intense nature.

“Who gives this woman away?” The officiant asks.

Mrs. DeLuca joins Dario at his side. “We do,” they announce together. She kisses her baby girl on her cheek and Dario does the same before escorting his mother to her seat and taking his place beside his sister as her best man.

It's a startling revelation that has me questioning the hasty judgments woven from tattered rumors and speculation. It’s asharp reminder that I know little of the man to whom I've unwittingly bound my fate.

The vows between Carmela and her beloved Angelo fade into a ceremonial murmur as my focus remains tethered to Dario. Even amidst the majesty of the proceedings, an electric current thrums through the atmosphere—charged by his imposing presence, his every subtle gesture an unspoken assertion of unbending control.

The lace of my gown brushes against my skin as I take a shaky breath, trying to stay calm while a mix of excitement and nerves spreads through me. In this tense moment, I realize I've crossed a point of no return, and there’s no going back, even if I wanted to.

The silence shatters as the revelry resumes, Carmela’s radiant laughter mingling with the swell of music, and they are announced as husband and wife. The guests cheer on the happy couple with bubbles floating in exchange for the traditional rice-throwing.

Dario exits, escorting his mother to the reception area on the other side of the yard, as does the rest of the bridal party. Rafael escorts me, and I take my seat near the host table.

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