The mirror reflected a poised figure, the final touch of the assistants’ skilled hands smoothing the last stray of hair and adjusting the hem of the gown. The fabric hugged Emilia's frame like it was made for her — which, thankfully, it nearly was. She marveled at the subtle elegance of the dress, its simplicity belying the significance of the day.
The quiet bustle of preparation was interrupted by the heavy creak of the door swinging open. Her father’s presence filled the room immediately; a sudden hush fell over the assistants who stepped back respectfully. With a swift, tender gesture, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"I’m proud of you," Enzo Mariano said, his voice thick with solemnity. "Today marks more than a ceremony — it’s a step toward uniting our families, binding two empires. Your marriage to Santo is a symbol of strength, of progress."
Emilia's lip curled into a bitter scoff as she stepped back, putting space between them. Her eyes flashed, hurt and anger coiling beneath her breath. "Is that all this is to you?" she demanded. "A business deal? You’re sending me to marry a stranger — a man I barely know — and all you can talk about is the mafia's gains? You haven’t once asked me how I feel. You’ve ignored me for two weeks."
Her father’s face faltered, confusion and a touch of guilt etching deep lines across his forehead. "Mia bambina, what’s troubling you so?"
Emilia’s voice wavered, the weight of her frustration spilling free. "You don’t understand. This isn’t about alliances or power. This is about me. And you’ve forgotten that."
Without hesitation, Enzo closed the distance, pulling her into a firm embrace. "I’m sorry," he murmured against her hair. "Maybe I got carried away. I’m learning too — being a father, it's new to me. If this isn’t what you want, we can call it off. There are other ways to secure our future."
Warm tears pricked Emilia's eyes, her throat tightening as she clung to the man she had missed so dearly these past weeks. The hug was a salve, a brief moment of peace in the storm of her life.
The door swung open again, and her mother stepped inside, her usual gentle smile brightening the room. "Am I interrupting?" she asked softly.
Emilia motioned them both to join the embrace, and her mother slid between them with a protective grace. Her father chuckled ruefully, "Emilia just reminded me I can be a terrible father sometimes."
"You’re not," Emilia reassured, the tension easing just enough to let a smile slip through.
Enzo turned to her mother with resolve. "We need to tell Santo that the wedding’s off."
Her mother raised an eyebrow sharply. "Are you certain?"
"I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my daughter happy," he said firmly.
She pressed a gentle kiss to his lips before nodding. "I’ll inform him."
As her mother headed for the door, Emilia stopped her with a quick voice, "No. I’ll do it."
Her father looked puzzled. "Emilia, what are you saying?"
"I’m the capo’s daughter," she said steadily, determination hardening her features. "It’s my responsibility to ensure this works as much as it is yours. I want to handle this — to prove I’m ready to carry my own weight."
"But what about protecting yourself? Working in the warehouse or hardware store, learning the ropes? You don’t have to marry someone you don’t want to," he countered, his brow furrowed.
Emilia met his gaze unwavering. "I can face Santo. I’m not afraid of him."
Enzo sighed, a flicker of pride in his eyes despite the worry. "If you’re sure..."
"I am," she confirmed, her voice strong and clear.
At that moment, Bella burst into the room, her bright energy a welcome contrast to the heavy conversation. "Enough family drama — it’s time to go!"
They all laughed, the sound light and genuine, and the tension melted away for just a moment as they prepared to face the night ahead.
The grand doors opened to reveal a sea of faces. The venue was packed far beyond what Emilia had dared imagine — nearly six hundred guests gathered to witness the union. Allies and associates from both mafias filled every inch of the space, their presence a constant reminder of the stakes.
Midway down the aisle, Emilia finally allowed her gaze to find Santo. He stood statuesque, sharp and imposing in a meticulously tailored black three-piece suit. His expression was unreadable, a mask perfected over years in the unforgiving world they inhabited.
She had always been able to read people — to sense their hidden truths. Yet with Santo, every attempt to decipher his thoughts came up empty, and the frustration gnawed at her.
When they reached the altar, both of her parents pressed kisses to her cheeks before retreating to their seats. Emilia handed her bouquet to Bella, whose smile was radiant and reassuring.
Santo’s eyes flickered over her form, cold and appraising, betraying nothing. Was he angry? Indifferent? Or hiding a storm within? Not that she cared — or so she told herself.
The priest’s voice cut through the charged silence. "We are gathered here today to witness the union of Emilia Mariano and Santo Valentino."
The ceremony unfolded with solemnity, the weight of tradition pressing down on them as they exchanged rings and repeated vows.
"Do you, Emilia Mariano, take Santo Valentino to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, for as long as you both shall live?"
"I do," Emilia answered, eyes locking with Santo’s, determined to convey strength despite the turmoil roiling inside.
"Do you, Santo Valentino, take Emilia Mariano to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, for as long as you both shall live?"
His voice was low and steady. "I do."
He thought his silence and stoic facade could scare her off. But Emilia was no stranger to defiance.
Each word he spoke reminded her of the depth in his voice — a sound that stirred something both unsettling and compelling within her.
"By the power vested in me, you may now kiss the bride," the priest declared, stepping back.
Her breath hitched as Santo closed the distance, his arm settling possessively around her waist. The world shrank until there was only the press of his lips on hers — gentle, deliberate.
Her eyes fluttered closed, instinctively returning the kiss, tasting the bitterness and vulnerability beneath his tough exterior.
When he pulled away, the emptiness left behind was palpable. Opening her eyes, she caught a flicker of something he failed to mask — sadness, raw and unguarded.
For a heartbeat, they were alone, two souls adrift amidst the storm. Who was this man? What shadows haunted him so deeply?
The hushed murmurs and cheers from the crowd shattered the moment, pulling them back into the reality they both wished to escape. Together, they walked out, their steps heavy with unspoken questions.
"Well, that was one memorable first kiss," Bella teased, dabbing at Emilia’s makeup to refresh the flawless façade.
Emilia scoffed, cheeks burning. "You know it wasn’t my first kiss."
Bella gave her an incredulous look. "That silly guard doesn’t count. You were eighteen, and your dad probably didn’t let it slide."
Rolling her eyes, Emilia muttered, "Forget it. I only kissed Santo because everyone was watching."
"And you liked it," Bella teased further.
"No, I didn’t!" Emilia protested, stepping away.
"Emmy, he practically had to push you away," Bella laughed, the warmth in her tone a balm to Emilia’s insecurities.
“Whatever,” Emilia said, brushing past her. “Let’s just get this night over with.”
She moved toward the head table, where Santo sat rigidly, absorbed in his phone. A scoff escaped her lips.
He looked up sharply, awareness flashing in his eyes. "Do you have a problem?" he asked, tone edged with impatience.
"Yeah," Emilia shot back. "You’re at your wedding, with your wife, and you’re glued to your phone?"
His glare hardened. "What do you want me to do then?"
She shrugged sarcastically. "Maybe, I don’t know, stop ignoring me for the night?"
Turning away, he resumed texting. "I have nothing to say to you," he said flatly.
Asshole, she thought bitterly. Is this what marriage is going to be? A lifetime of silence and neglect?
Feeling overwhelmed, Emilia excused herself and slipped into the bathroom. The mirror reflected a familiar face — forced smile painted on, eyes betraying the storm underneath. She was only fooling herself tonight.
Her gaze dropped to the long gown, the cumbersome layers making even the simplest task a challenge. After a brief struggle with the petticoat, she finally managed to relieve herself, the relief more profound than she expected.
Suddenly, footsteps approached and two women’s voices drifted into her stall.
"I feel sorry for the bride," one sighed.
"Why’s that?" the other asked.
"Having Enzo Mariano as your father and now being married to Santo Valentino? That’s a tough life."
"Oh, come on," the second woman scoffed. "It’s not that bad."
"They’re both psychopaths," the first woman whispered harshly.
"At least Enzo shows love and some leniency," the second argued. "Santo? He doesn’t care about anyone."
"I don’t get how someone so handsome can be so cold," the first muttered.
"It’s always the good-looking ones," the other chuckled darkly. "That poor girl is going to start a war between those families — especially if Santo kills her. Give it a month."
A chill ran down Emilia’s spine. When they said 'kills her' — did they mean it literally?
"She has no clue what she’s walking into," the first woman said, voice thick with disdain.
"We better get back," the second urged. "They’ll notice if we’re gone too long."
The footsteps faded, leaving Emilia stunned and trembling behind the stall door.
She waited a moment longer before flushing and stepping out. Her hand instinctively clasped her chest, heart pounding as if trying to escape.
At the sink, she splashed cold water on her face, willing herself to steady the storm inside.
Suddenly, Bella stormed in, her face set with a determined expression. "Emilia, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. It’s time for the final dance with your father!"
"Bella, there’s nothing I want to tell you—" Emilia began, but her friend cut her off.
Ignoring the protest, Bella grabbed her arm gently but firmly, guiding her back toward the ballroom.
"Come on, Emmy. Whatever you’re feeling, you’re not alone. Let’s face this night together."