DANTE
Our wedding day dawned clear and sunny over the waters of Lake Como.
Two hundred and fifty guests flew in from around the world to attend the festivities at Villa Serafina, where renovations had wrapped up just in time for an army of wedding staff to swoop in and transform it into a paradise of lights, flowers, and hanging greens.
The ceremony itself took place outside, on the villa’s highest terrace overlooking the lake. The sun beat hot and heavy as I stood beneath the arbor, waiting for Vivian to appear.
“I can’t believe you’re getting married.” The whisper slid from the corner of Luca’s mouth. “I didn’t think it’d actually happen. I know I told you to fight for her, but I was certain she’d kick you t0 —”
“Shut up,” I said through my smile. The cameras were watching, and I wanted today’s photos to be perfect. “Unsolicited commentary isn’t the best man’s job.
I swept my eyes over the crowd, restless. Almost every guest had RSVP’d yes. I spotted Dominic and Alessandra between the Laurents and the Singhs, and Christian’s girlfriend Stella seated next to Queen Bridget and Prince Rhys of Eldorra. Surprisingly, my parents had made it as well, and they’d ditched their usual beach clothes for the appropriate wedding attire.
My gaze skimmed over the Laus. Francis was here as Cecelia’s plus one, but he’d been stripped of all father-of-the-bride duties. Cecelia would be walking her down the aisle instead. It was a humiliating public snub for someone so obsessed with his reputation, but he must’ve thought not attending was worse than attending as the guest of a guest.
He sat next to his son-in-law, dour but silent. Vivian had agonized for weeks over whether to invite him before we settled on the current compromise. She was worried I’d be upset, but I’d pushed Francis so far in the back of my mind he was a speck in the rearview mirror.
As long as Vivian was happy, I was happy.
“It should be. You wouldn’t be here without me,” Luca said, bringing my attention back to him. He reeked of self-satisfaction. “Who pulled your head out of your ass when you were busy wallowing?”
“I’m about to put my foot up your ass if you don’t shut up.”
Whoever invented younger siblings deserved a special place in hell.
“Both of you shut up,” Christian said from Luca’s other side. “Christ, brothers are annoying. Thank fuck I don’t have one.”
A-fucking-men.
Kai was the only groomsman with the good sense to keep his mouth shut.
He’d fixed his gaze across the archway, where Agnes, Sloane, and Isabella stood in blush pink bridesmaid dresses.
Isabella cocked an eyebrow at him; his gaze narrowed a fraction before the rich, majestic tones of the wedding march filled the air and he flicked his eyes toward the aisle.
The guests rose as one. All thoughts of annoying brothers and equally annoying groomsmen ceased when Vivian appeared at the end of the aisle.
Hell, all thoughts ceased, period.
The only thing that existed was her.
My breath stilled as she walked down the aisle with her mother, her face glowing and her smile soft as she met my eyes.
Vivian once told me about a Chinese proverb that said an invisible thread connected those destined to meet, regardless of time, place, and circumstance.
I felt the phantom tug of that thread now, stretching between us and vibrating with the promise of something only fate could deliver.
I used to think we wouldn’t be together if her father hadn’t forced us together. I was wrong.
A part of me would always find my way to her. She was my North Star, the brightest jewel in my sky.
A suspicious haze blurred my vision when Vivian reached me. I blinked it back. If I didn’t, I’d never hear the end of it from Luca, Christian, or Kai.
Her mother handed her off to me. Cecelia had been upset when Vivian refused to let her bulldoze her way into wedding preparations. Now, she looked suspiciously misty-eyed.
It seems she possessed emotions other than disapproval after all.
“You clean up nice, Mr. Russo,” Vivian murmured. Her hand was small and soft in mine.
“I could say the same for you, Mrs. Russo.” She wore a custom-made gown and the best hair and makeup money could buy, but even in a burlap sack, she’d be the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.
“I’m not Mrs. Russo yet. There’s still time for me to live out my runaway bride fantasy,” she quipped.
A wicked smile spread across my lips. “I do love a good chase.”
Vivian’s cheeks pinked at the double meaning.
The priest cleared his throat, interrupting our whispered conversation.
We exchanged a last secret smile before we turned our full attention to the ceremony.
Priest’s remarks, vows, ring exchange. The pounding of my heart muffled sound and motion until we reached the end of the ceremony.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may—”
I swept Vivian into my arms and kissed her before the priest finished his sentence.
The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles. I barely heard them. I was too busy with my wife.
Wife. The word sent an electric thrill down my spine.
“Impatient as always,” Vivian teased when we broke apart. Her face was flushed with pleasure and laughter. “We’ll have to work on that.
Patience is a virtue.”
“I never claimed to be virtuous, sweetheart. Sinning is more fun.”
Another wicked grin. “As you’ll find out tonight.”
Pink blossomed anew across her face and chest.
My grin widened.
I’d never get tired of making her smile and blush.
She was my wife, my partner, my guiding star.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
VIVIAN
“My baby is married. They grow up so fast.” Isabella let out a dramatic sniffle. “I still remember when you were an innocent twenty-two-year-old, navigating the jungle of New—”
“Stop being dramatic. Vivian is a year older than you.” Sloane took a delicate sip of champagne. “Several years, if we’re talking about maturity.”
I swallowed a laugh at Isabella’s offended gasp.
Day had bled into night as the wedding festivities continued. The reception took place in the villa’s massive walled courtyard, beneath a canopy of flowers and twinkling lights.
The guests were still going strong after hours of drinks and dancing, but I’d needed a breather. Being the bride at a wedding reception was a full-time job. Everyone wanted to talk.
“Maturity slander aside,” Isabella said with a pointed stare at Sloane.
“I’m glad you and Dante made it work. Now I can cross bridesmaid in Italy off my bucket list.”
“I’m glad I can make your dreams come true,” I said dryly.
“Me too. All that’s left is finding a hot Italian one-night stand to—”
Isabella’s sentence broke off at the light cough behind me.
I turned and stifled another laugh when I saw Kai. He had the worst, or best, timing when it came to my talks with Isabella, depending on how you looked at it.
“I’m sorry to interrupt yet another…fascinating conversation.” His mouth twitched. “But Dante is getting restless without his bride. Vivian, you may want to check in on him. He’s had to tell the story of how he proposed ten times, and I think he’s ready to deck someone.”
I glanced at where Dante stood with a small group of guests, looking bored and irritated. He caught my eye and mouthed, help.
I bit back a smile. “I’ll be right back,” I said. “I need to save my husband.”
Sloane waved me off. “We’ll be fine. Enjoy your wedding night.”
“Congratulations again!” Isabella chirped, studiously avoiding Kai’s eye.
I left them to their conversation and wound my way through the courtyard. I only made it halfway before my mother stopped me.
“Vivian! Have you seen your sister?” she fretted. “She went to the restroom an hour ago but isn’t back yet.”
“No. Maybe she’s in there with Gunnar,” I joked.
“Vivian. Honestly.” Her hands flew to her necklace. “That’s not a joke to make in public.”
“I’m sure she’s fine, Mother. It’s a party. So party.” I handed her a glass of champagne from a nearby tray. “Louis Roederer. Your favorite.”
Our relationship had been getting better since our talk in Eldorra. It wasn’t perfect; like she said, she couldn’t change completely. Her micromanaging had driven me up the wall in the weeks leading up to the wedding, but she was trying. She hadn’t even argued when I asked the makeup artist for red lipstick instead of neutral, though my mother considered red lips and nails “unbecoming” for a society heiress.
My father, on the other hand, was as distant as ever. He’d left immediately after the ceremony; according to Agnes, he couldn’t stand all the whispers about why he wasn’t the one who gave me away.
No one outside our circle knew the reason behind our estrangement, and they never would. Some things were meant to be private.
I’d made peace with our strained relationship, and I barely gave him any thought as my mother accepted the champagne bribe.
“Fine,” she said. “I have to speak to Buffy Darlington anyway. But if you find your sister, tell her I have her phone. Honestly, I don’t know what she’s doing…”
I disengaged from my mother and made it to Dante just in time.
“So, tell me how you proposed,” the poor guest said, seemingly oblivious to the groom’s twitching eye. “I want to hear every detail.”
“Many apologies for interrupting.” I placed my hand on Dante’s chest before he could respond. “But can I steal him away? Wedding duties.”
“Oh, of course,” the woman said, flustered. “Congratulations again. You look beautiful.”
I smiled and steered Dante toward a quiet corner of the courtyard.
“Thank you. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“Thank fuck,” Dante said when the woman was out of earshot. The ice cream cufflinks I bought for him in Paris glinted as he wiped a hand over his face, and the sight made me embarrassingly happy. “Now I know why people elope. The small talk at these things is insufferable.”
“Yes, but I’m sure you can find one thing you like about it.” I looped my arms around his neck.
The tension eased from his shoulders, and his frown loosened in a faint smile. “Maybe one.” His hand rested on my waist. The heat seared through my dress and into the pit of my stomach. “The lobster canapés are pretty good.”
“And?”
“And…” He pretended to think about it. “The flowers are impressive.
Though for one hundred and twenty thousand dollars, they better well be.”
“What about the people?” I tilted my chin up. “Anyone tolerable?”
“Hmm. There is this woman I’ve been eyeing all night…” Dante dipped his head so his lips brushed mine. “She’s beautiful, charming, has the best smile I’ve ever seen…but I think she’s married.”
“How…unfortunate.” My breath snagged when his palm slid up my waist, lighting tiny fires along the way.
“Very.” Another brush of his lips. “I hear her husband is quite protective of her. If he sees me talking to her, he might do something rash.”
“Like?” My mind went hazy when his hand made it over the curve of my shoulder and to the back of my neck.
“Like kiss the hell out of her in front of two hundred and fifty people, propriety be damned.”
Dante captured my mouth in a proper kiss, and the party, the music, the guests…they were all gone, obliterated by the heat of his touch.
It seeped into my chest and my veins, filling me with warmth from the inside out.
The type that existed only when you reached the end of a long journey…and found home.
