Page 49 of Angelo’s Vengeance (The Commission #3)

THEODOSIA

The afternoon of my wedding began with a cup of decaf tea and a sense of panic that only a designer-turned-bride could feel when she realized her hand-embroidered gloves had gone missing.

I had been running full steam to finalize the details for the last two weeks.

Deciding to make my own dress, as well as Frankie and Cora’s, had proven to be a bit more than I could handle. I had barely made it.

"Norris!" I called out, darting around Angelo's brownstone in a silk robe printed with black-and-white stripes and tiny embroidered hearts. "My gloves! Have you seen my gloves?” The gloves with the pearl skull buttons! The gloves that took me a week and a ruined manicure to finish!

Norris, unfazed, looked up from his task of carefully arranging trays of lavender macarons and dark chocolate tartlets shaped like playing cards. "Check under the cat."

We didn’t even have a cat. But there was a suspiciously lumped throw blanket on the chaise in my studio. I flung it back to find my gloves nestled there like misbehaving children, clearly moved by no one but my absent-minded self.

Crisis averted. I pressed them to my chest and exhaled dramatically. “Ok, we’re in the clear. We may proceed.”

My wedding day. My wedding night . It still felt like I was starring in a very elaborate fever dream—one where I’d fallen in love with the brooding don of the Santelli mafia, gotten engaged in his fortress of a bedroom, and was now preparing to marry him in a gothic garden wonderland.

Was it too on-the-nose that I’d chosen an Alice in Wonderland-esque/Through the Looking Glass theme? Probably. Did I care? Absolutely not .

The small garden had been transformed for the evening ceremony, with the massive weeping willow serving as the ceremony’s centerpiece.

We had to expand slightly into the former parking area and convert it into a chessboard, which increased our square footage; however, everything worked seamlessly.

Antique mirrors hung from the trees, mismatched velvet chairs were provided for guests, tables were shaped like oversized playing cards, and candelabras perched on top of them.

Fairy lights and canopies would drape over everything, making it look even more magical.

Guests were invited to wear themed masks if they chose to.

I’d gone full Theo. No regrets.

I stood before the full-length mirror as Frankie zipped me into my gown.

“You look like a haunted porcelain doll,” she said with genuine admiration.

“I was going for ‘Victorian ghost who murdered her husband on their honeymoon and still haunts the grounds in couture.’”

“Well, nailed it,” Frankie said, drily.

My dress was custom—obviously. It featured layers of sheer black tulle embroidered with crimson roses, tiny hidden thorns, a high collar, and fitted sleeves. My veil was cathedral-length, scattered with hand-sewn pearls. I wore the gloves, of course.

I’d even made gowns for Frankie and Cora, unique and whimsical, that matched their personalities and the theme.

Both were simpler versions of mine, with lower cuts and shorter sleeves, but full tulle skirts.

Frankie’s had the Alice theme—a deeper blue with a white sash and puffed sleeves that looked innocent.

I’d embroidered white rabbits throughout.

Cora’s dress was in shades of emerald green, featuring a deep V-neck bodice that matched her eyes, and was embroidered with tiny caterpillars that made her laugh.

Luckily, one of the machines Angelo had purchased for my new business space was a commercial embroidery machine.

It had taken a few online tutorials and a visit from a representative to get the basics down, but it had made some magic happen.

“You nervous?” Cora asked, holding baby Vasily on her hip as he gurgled and tried to eat the edge of her chiffon shawl.

I paused, heart thudding. “No. Just… It’s a big day, and he’s not just any man. He’s Angelo .”

“You mean the man who stares at you like he wants to fight the Devil himself?” Cora smirked. “Who looks like he’s about to ravish you any second?”

I flushed. “Yes. That one.” The one who had ravished me this morning, driving into me until we collapsed onto the sheets, sated and happy.

The bridal suite door opened, and Maxim stepped in, flanked by Ilias and Conall. “They’re ready,” he said, accentuating the wolf in his smile. Maxim cradled Vasily protectively in one arm, holding him comfortably as if it were just another Tuesday.

Ilias offered me his arm. “You look amazing. In the best possible way.” He had been stressed over the last few weeks, and I could see the lines around his eyes.

He had been spending all his time and considerable resources trying to locate Galena without success, which was driving him crazy.

Today, he was trying to put it aside, but we were all concerned for him and hoping Galena was alright.

Smiling at him, I said, “Coming from you, that’s a compliment I’ll cherish forever.” He didn’t miss the sarcasm.

We filed out. The garden hummed with soft music, “Turning Page” by Sleeping At Last . Valentino Cardoni sat in the second row, his young daughter asleep against his shoulder. Remo gave me a wink and muttered, “You’re gonna give my brother a damn heart attack.”

Perfect. Everything looked gorgeous. Well, almost perfect.

I had hoped my sister could be here. Polina had finals, and Ilias had forbidden it despite the tears we’d both shed.

He was being an overbearing ass about the whole thing.

Not about her having to stay for finals — if it had just been over that, I would have set a new date, but about her not being around our ‘lifestyle.’ If he wasn’t careful, Polina was going to full-on revolt.

However, family drama would have to wait.

Tightening my hold on Ilias’s arm, I set my sights on the aisle in front of me.

Angelo stood at the end of the garden path, beneath a wrought-iron arch blooming with blood-red roses. He wore a black-on-black three-piece suit. His eyes, those soul-punching eyes, were locked on mine like he’d been waiting his whole life for me.

I walked towards him and everything else disappeared.

We had intended to keep the ceremony brief, but each of us had something small we wanted to share.

Angelo took my hand as if he were claiming it forever.

The judge that Angelo had wrangled into being our officiant looked slightly uncomfortable, but rambled through the ceremony while we watched each other.

When it came time for our additions, Angelo added gently, “I vow to build you a world that is safe. That’s ours. No matter the cost. To love you deeply as you deserve. To honor you and our children. To never let any harm come to you, and to strike down our enemies.”

The judge looked at him askance, and I wondered if it had been wise to bring him here to witness Angelo vowing to potentially commit crimes even if it made my panties wet.

My voice trembled only once. “And I vow to be your chaos, your calm, your home. I vow to love you unconditionally as you are. To take you, Angelo Santelli, as my husband.”

When the judge pronounced us man and wife, we kissed to thunderous applause.

The reception was just as I envisioned. Kostas and Vaso reenacted our childhood dances with an embarrassing flair. My brothers gave toasts that made me smile.

“Here’s to Theo,” Ilias said, raising his glass. “Remember the time you took Nonna’s curtains and turned them into a dress? You’ve always had a vision, Thea. It just usually involved breaking things or stealing fabric from somewhere you shouldn’t.”

Everyone chuckles and glances over at us. “Really, curtains?” Remo asks.

“But look at you now. Gorgeous. Glowing. Married. To a man I once swore I’d strangle with my bare hands.” I looked askance at Ilias, who still had his glass raised and that serious expression on his face.

“Did he really swear he’d strangle you?” I asked Angelo in a stage whisper.

“Well, when we were like twelve,” he whispered back. “Pretty sure he got over it.” He kissed my shoulder. “Pretty sure.”

The audience was in rapt attention, particularly those we had invited who are ‘mafia-adjacent’.

Most of the people here were famiglia , but there were a few guests who had been invited due to other connections they had that were potentially useful.

The wedding was still intimate, but some people couldn’t just be ignored.

“Don’t worry, Santelli. I’ve evolved. Now I’d use piano wire. I’m classy like that.”

Angelo smirked even though a lady next to me looked over nervously. Those who weren’t familiar with our situation might wonder if Ilias was serious, but it was hard to believe when Conall was snorting in his whiskey like he was.

“Seriously though…You two are disgustingly in love. Like, ‘burn the house down but call it foreplay’ kind of in love, it’s terrifying and inspiring.

Mostly terrifying. And Angelo—credit where it’s due, man.

You didn’t just show up. You stayed. You protected her, made her laugh, provided her with a dream space for her business, and managed to survive several dinners with our family without anyone getting hurt.

That’s love. Or masochism. Either way—respect.

” He raised his glass. “So here’s to Theo—my brilliant, feral sister, and to Angelo—who now belongs to her, body and soul, good luck with that.

May your life be filled with beautiful things, good wine, and no FBI raids.

And if there are FBI raids, may your security footage always mysteriously glitch.

” He grinned. “To chaos and couture. To murder and matrimony. To Theo and Angelo—may you always be each other’s favorite felony. ”

Geez, my brother was going to make me cry with that speech. I raised my glass as Ilias polished off his glass. “Yamas!”