Page 77 of His Nephew's Ex
All men who’ve sworn loyalty to Simeone. All armed. All prepared to die defending what happens in this room tonight.
“Your court,” I comment.
“Our court,” he corrects, his voice thick with emotion. “They’re here to witness the beginning of everything we’re going to build together.”
The word sends a thrill through me that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the kind of future we’re choosing. Not just a marriage—a partnership. Not just a family—a legacy that will reshape his entire world.
“Shall we?” he asks.
I nod, and we begin our descent together. Every eye tracks our movement as we walk down the makeshift aisle, and I’ve never felt more powerful in my life. These dangerous men who’ve killed for Simeone, who’ve bled for him, who’ve built his empire from violence and strategy—they’re witnessing his complete claiming of me.
And more importantly, they’re witnessing my complete claiming of him.
Father Respicio doesn’t use flowery language, or gentle promises—just the raw acknowledgment that we’re binding ourselves to something beautiful and terrible. Love as warfare. Marriage as alliance.
When Simeone slides the wedding band onto my finger—platinum to match his grandmother’s engagement ring—his voice is steady despite the emotion burning in his dark eyes.
“With this ring, I thee wed. With my body, I thee worship. With all my worldly goods, I thee endow.”
The possessive satisfaction in his voice makes something primal and satisfied purr in my chest. This isn’t just a ceremony—it’s apublic declaration that binds us together in ways that go deeper than law or custom.
“You may kiss the bride,” Father Respicio announces with the kind of benevolent smile that suggests he’s performed this ceremony for dangerous men before.
Simeone’s kiss is soft at first, reverent, but it quickly transforms into something hungry and possessive that makes heat flood my cheeks. When we break apart, he rests his forehead against mine.
“Mia moglie,” he whispers, and the Italian endearment makes my heart skip. “My wife.”
“Mio marito,” I whisper back. “My husband.”
The whole dynamic between us shifts in real time—from keeping each other safe to actually belonging to each other, from chemistry to something that feels like it could last forever.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Father Respicio announces to our small audience, “I present Mr. and Mrs. Simeone Codella.”
The applause is restrained but genuine, and I catch Tiziano’s subtle nod of approval from his position near the windows. Mission accomplished—we’re married, the estate is secure, and our new dynasty has officially begun.
As Simeone leads me away from our witnesses toward the privacy of our bedroom, his hand is warm and possessive on my back. “What happens now, Mrs. Codella?”
“Now,” I say, letting all the heat I’ve been restraining bleed into my voice, “you show your wife exactly what it means to belong to her husband completely.”
His eyes darken with hunger that makes my knees weak. “Careful what you ask for,stellina. I’ve been looking forward to our wedding night since the moment you said yes to my proposal.”
“Threatening or promising?”
“Both,” he says, sweeping me into his arms like I weigh nothing. “Definitely both.”
As he carries me up the staircase toward our wedding night, I catch a glimpse of our reflection in the windows—two figures bound together by choice rather than circumstance, ready to build something beautiful and dangerous from the foundation we’ve laid tonight.
Mrs. Loriana Codella. The title fits like a glove designed specifically for my skin, and as Simeone kicks our bedroom door closed behind us, I realize that surprising him wasn’t just about romance or spontaneity.
It was about proving that I’m exactly the kind of woman who can stand beside the Silver Devil as an equal partner in everythingthat matters—love, power, protection, and the dynasty we’re going to build together.
25
Simeone
Loriana’s weight in my arms is perfect. She feels like newly claimed territory that I never intend to surrender. She’s mine to carry, mine to protect, mine to worship. The ivory silk pools around us as I climb toward our sanctuary, and with each step, the reality settles deeper: she chose this. Chose me. Chose to bind herself to the Silver Devil completely.
“You realize,” she murmurs against my throat, her breath warm and intoxicating, “that you’ve just married the most stubborn woman in New York.”
