Page 80 of Dario DeLuca

The space between us dwindles to a breath as cup her jaw with my free hand cups her jaw, tracing the delicate curve with my thumb.

“You’re so perfect,” I say to her while lowering my gun. “So pure.”

The tension in her body relaxes, and she lets out a sigh of relief. I want to be the man she wants, to be good for her, because she deserves nothing less. She’s my everything, and I’ll go to my grave trying to give her the world. But we’ve lived different lives, and where I’m from, there is only one way to handle situations like this.

“But it's him or you, and I choose you.”

I raise my gun and fire a round between his eyes.

EPILOGUE: MIA

Through the windowof the converted bridal suite, perched high in the hills of Dario's sprawling estate two hours outside Chicago, I gaze out at the sky. It’s beautiful out, the sun shining bright as birds fly past the window.

Three months have passed since this all started, and the city still buzzes with whispers of the DeLuca family's involvement. Even the press alert by Chief Harris, in which he explained that the man who shot the mayor and bombed the house was the same person and how they found his body under the rubbish of the bombed property, wasn’t enough to satisfy some.

He has done his part to cover up any incriminating evidence that might have pointed to DeLucas, yet the rumors remain. The only saving grace was a post from my friend Jake on his social media platforms, debunking the rumor about Dario breaking his fingers. This keeps us from being completely swamped by scandal.

None of that matters at this moment. Today is my wedding day, and I couldn’t be any happier. The world thinks I'm marrying a respectable businessman. Only those on the inside glimpse the demons slinking underneath his tailored suits and magnetic charm.

I inhale the sweet floral aroma wafting through the open windows of the bridal suite and smooth my hands over the cascading ivory lace of my gown, the fabric cool and delicate against my skin.

In the gilded mirror, I barely recognize the woman staring back at me with haunted eyes. My make-up is expertly applied, my hair swept up in an elegant chignon, and my skin glowing—I look every bit the radiant bride wearing an extravagant dress befitting a queen taking her throne.

Except I'm no royal—just a girl with roots in the south side.

"You look incredible, honey." Mom's warm hands squeeze my shoulders as she meets my gaze in the gilded mirror. The champagne and diamonds glitter in the morning sunlight, but the naked adoration in her eyes takes my breath away.

“Thanks, Momma. I just hope I look as beautiful as you on your wedding day.”

She pulls me into an embrace, warm and comforting, like when I was younger.

"Mia,” Mom starts with a concerned look in her eyes. “You do know the terms of the deal your father made with Dario have been fulfilled. You don't have to go through with this wedding if you don't want to." Her eyes dart between Carmela and me, who is assisting with the final touches to my headdress.

"Yeah, are you sure this is what you want, Mia?" Gabby cosigns, her voice gentle yet probing as I stare at myself in the mirror.

"You were literally terrified a few months ago,” she continues.

I can't explain the twisted coil of emotion binding me to Dario. After everything that’s happened, all the murders, I should want to stay far away from him. But here I am, preparing to spend the rest of my life with him. I’ve never declared my emotions out loud to anyone, not even Dario himself, so Iunderstand the skepticism, but I think I need to let them know how I feel.

“I understand the concern, but trust me when I say there is no need. No, it wasn’t always rainbows and butterflies, but one thing is certain, he has always protected me. He’s taken care of me. He anticipates my needs and desires. Trust me, I’ve questioned myself a million times, wondering if I should get out while I can. But, if I’m being honest, I don’t want to. I love him.”

The movement in the room stops. Gabby’s jaw drops while my mom wipes stray tears away. I’ve never said it aloud, only as whispers in the night, but it’s true. I love Dario DeLuca, and I’m going to be his wife.

"Baby…" Her voice resonates with a mother's infinite capacity for worry.

My gaze strays to the French doors, to the sweeping emerald lawns below, where an army of staff prepares for the ceremony. “As certain as I can be about anything anymore. Love isn’t rational,” I say, my voice lilting as I try to convey the depth of my feelings for Dario. Our relationship may have had a turbulent beginning, but it has grown into something beautiful that transcends any danger we may face."

My heart feels like it's swelling with emotion, ready to burst out of my chest. Fabric whispers as my mother embraces me, her palms cradling my face.

"Your father and I only want you to be safe and loved, princess."

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. "I know, Mama. And rest assured, I am."

She presses her lips to my forehead, her thumb brushing a tear from my cheek.

Gabby looks on, her features soft as tears stream from her eyes. “Aww. I knew it.”

I hug her, careful not to get makeup on her red bridesmaid's dress. “Thank you for always being there for me.”

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