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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A s Jemma entered the small chapel, my breath caught in my throat. She was a vision in white, her beauty radiating through the antique lace of…a dress that looked exactly like my nonna’s wedding dress.

The one she wore in my grandparent’s wedding picture that had been on my nonno’s desk for as long as I could remember.

How many times had I watched him take it and stare at it fondly and tell me that once you found the one woman meant for you, to love her and hold on to her with all your might?

I smiled at the memory. I hadn’t thought about that in so long, I didn’t even know I still remembered. But that piece of advice had been dormant, lodged somewhere in my subconscious until now.

Was that what attracted me to Jemma? Was that why I was so sure she was the one for me once I’d gotten to know her?

Because she was the one woman meant for me ?

The soft glow of fractured light filtered through the multicolored windows and danced across her figure. I couldn’t see her face through the lace, though. Was she smiling? Or was she barely holding on?

Once all of this had blown over, I would give her the exact wedding she wanted. But right now, this was necessary. And despite all the tension, danger, and weight of responsibility on my shoulders, at this moment, everything else faded away—and all I wanted to focus on was her.

My heart pounded as she walked down the aisle, her arm linked with her father’s.

Craig Donnelly’s face was a mix of pride and reluctance, but I couldn’t blame him. I knew I didn’t deserve her, not like this, yet here she was, willingly walking toward me to become my wife.

As they reached the altar, her eyes locked with mine through the lace. Her genuine smile nearly brought me to my knees. How had I gotten so lucky? This incredible woman, who challenged me at every turn, who called me out and saw through my defenses, had agreed to stand by my side.

I took her hand in mine—a perfect fit.

And despite the craziness of this situation, despite the tension that had me buzzing all day, her touch grounded me and calmed me.

The priest began the ceremony, but I barely heard the words. A part of me remained alert, scanning the guests for any sign of threat. But the larger part of me was consumed by the woman beside me, by the magnitude of the commitment we were making.

As we exchanged vows, I felt a sense of peace wash over me .

She was mine, and nothing and no one would ever change that. This was the first step to ensure that nobody, especially not my father, would interfere with our future.

Jemma wasn’t just my wife—she was my partner, my equal—something I’d never expected out of my future wife. Was that the reason why I’d had zero intention to commit to anyone before her?

I silently vowed to cherish and protect her with every fiber of my being. And when it was time to seal our vows with a kiss, I lifted her veil, and to my surprise, her green hair was gone. Instead, it was a weird mixture of blond and brown.

Mousy, sedated, traditional.

I immediately missed her old style. I knew why she did it—to support me and to look more normal—but I didn’t want normal. I wanted her just as she was, with all her quirkiness and idiosyncrasies.

I needed to tell her that after all of this was over.

I leaned forward, smiled at her, then gave her a chaste kiss.

The chapel erupted in cheering and applause.

I pulled back and drank in her radiant smile. For a moment, it was just us, and the rest of the world faded away.

“I love you, Mrs. Salvini,” I whispered and rested my forehead against hers.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I love you, too, Mr. Evil Prince.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. Even on our wedding day, she kept me on my toes.

We turned to face our guests, hands clasped tightly. The joy in the room was palpable, a stark contrast to the tension of the past few days. My brothers beamed with pride, and even Craig Donnelly managed a begrudging smile.

As we made our way down the aisle, I felt Jemma squeeze my hand. I glanced at her, seeing a mix of happiness and nervousness in her eyes. I gave her a reassuring nod, promising her silently that I’d keep her safe, no matter what.

And I would, and if it was the last thing I did on this Earth.

At the chapel’s entrance, I paused, scanning the crowd outside. I found Michele, who stood a bit removed, and he nodded at me. Then Hawk caught my eye from across the lawn, his hand pressed to his earpiece. I waited, my body tense, ready for any sign of trouble.

After what felt like an eternity, Hawk gave me a subtle nod, as well.

All clear—at least for now.

I sucked in air and straightened. “Ready?” I asked Jemma softly.

She nodded, then lifted her chin in determination. “Let’s get through today.”

With one last look at Michele, I led Jemma toward the house, and our guests followed behind us in a joyful procession.

It was almost too harmonious, to be honest, and my stomach tensed.

We entered the house and were immediately surrounded by people congratulating us. It was almost too much, but I kept a straight face and shook more hands than I cared for while surveying the room constantly.

I got separated from Jemma and signaled to my brothers to stay with her while I shook hands, took their congratulations, and smiled until my cheeks hurt.

Marco Bianchi settled next to me and handed me a glass.

I took a sip of the ice water Marco handed me, grateful for its coolness against my dry throat. The constant handshaking and forced smiles were already wearing on me, but I couldn’t get antsy. Not today.

This was it. This was the point of no return.

“What’s the old man up to?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

Marco had been keeping tabs on my father for me, his tech skills and position within the Salvini Organization proving invaluable time and time again.

Marco’s eyes darted around the room before he leaned in closer. “He’s furious. Absolutely livid that he wasn’t invited. Been making threats left and right to anyone who dared to show up here today.”

I nodded, unsurprised by my father’s reaction. It was exactly what I’d expected, but hearing it confirmed was still chilling.

I scanned the room filled with familiar faces, many of them high-ranking members of our organization. Were they friends or foes? “It seems his threats didn’t have much effect, or were they just for show?”

Marco’s lips quirked into a small smile. “That’s the thing. I have no indication they were. Everyone here? They’re on your side. Every single one of them chose to come despite Alfredo’s warnings. It’s a pretty clear message, if you ask me.”

I felt my eyebrows rise involuntarily. I’d hoped for some support, sure, but this level of loyalty? It was unexpected, to say the least .

The room was filled with faces I’d known for years, people who’d always seemed fully aligned with my father’s old-school methods and highly skeptical of my vision for the future.

Maybe my own father trying to kill me had turned some of his most loyal men against him.

“Hmm,” I said, unable to keep the surprise but also suspicion from my voice.

Marco nodded, his eyes gleaming with a hint of pride. “Looks like you’ve got more support than you realized.”

I watched Salvatore Caruso, one of our veteran enforcers, make his way toward me. Sal had been with the family for as long as I could remember. He was one of the old breed, tough, old-school, and fiercely loyal. “ Tua moglie è davvero straordinaria , Vincenzo,” he muttered.

Your wife is quite something.

I followed his gaze and watched Jemma as she laughed at something Dante whispered in her ear. My brothers flanked her like a protective detail, never straying far from her side. On the one hand, I was grateful for their vigilance. On the other, I couldn’t help but feel a possessive urge to whisk her away from everyone’s admiring gazes.

I focused back on Jemma and couldn’t take my eyes off her. She moved through the crowd with an effortless grace, her smile dazzling as she greeted each guest. I felt a surge of pride mixed with a twinge of jealousy as I watched her charm even the most hardened men in our organization.

I nodded, forcing a smile. “That she is.”

“A little unconventional to take her from your brother,” Sal murmured, his voice tinged with something I couldn’t quite place. “Though Matteo seems unnecessarily happy about it.”

I side-eyed Sal and shrugged. “ Sono innamorato. ”

I fell in love—it was as simple as that.

Sal nodded, lost in thought. “You know what my first job in the organization was?” he asked.

I shook my head. I knew Sal had been with the family his entire life, so since he was older than my father, it was most likely it was Nonno who gave him that first assignment.

“It was to take care of your father,” he said.

Huh. Was he telling me this to show me his true loyalty? Then why was he here?

“Your nonno would be furious to hear what Alfredo did, and in such a modo così ostentato .”

I nodded. So that was why he was here? Because my father tried to get rid of me in such an ostentatious way?

Drawing attention to the family was more of a sin than killing one of yours—a gross miscalculation on my father’s side.

Sal put his hand on my shoulder, squeezed, and looked me deep in the eyes. Then he turned and walked toward a group of other old-timers.

I turned back to my wife, but as much as I wanted to keep staring at her, I had a job to do. I needed to work the room. This wedding wasn’t about us—it was about securing my position and ensuring our safety.

I made my way through the crowd, shook hands, and engaged in careful conversation. All the while, I kept one eye on Jemma and watched as she effortlessly won over even the most skeptical of my father’s old guard.

“She’s a natural,” Alex murmured, appearing at my side. “The men are eating out of her hand.”

I grunted in agreement, torn between pride and frustration. “Keep an eye on her,” I instructed before I moved toward Antonio Russo, who was standing with a group of capos I needed to speak with.

As I approached, I overheard one of them commenting on Jemma. “If she’s half as smart as she’s charming, Vince has made a hell of a match.”

I cleared my throat, and they turned to me. “Gentlemen,” I said, my voice low and serious. “We have matters to discuss.”