Page 165 of Dirty Mafia King

“Years ago,” she stammers. “Both times were totally forgettable.”

Lord, Sandro and Renzo look distraught.

“Tell him, Alessia,” Sandro insists. “I’m—”

“No.”

Sandro pauses, then grumbles, “That’s your new favorite word now, isn’t it?”

“Both of you can escort me. Your father will love that.”

Renzo smirks. “Yes, Mom.”

“You better get moving,” Sienna says. “Unless you changed your mind …”

I sigh. I understand her reservations—she did escape the country, fearing for her life. But I wish she’d trust my judgment. Wish she’d be happy for me. ButItrust my own judgment, and I’m happier for it.

And secure.

And loved, deeply.

And satisfied, on so many levels.

I grin.

The music begins.

I laugh when Sandro and Renzo offer me their elbows at the same time.

* * *

BASTIAN

The moment my little bride appears, I know deep down, I’m truly, utterly fucked. She’s so beautiful, it hurts. Aside from my sons and now baby Teresa, I’ve never loved someone this hard.

Two men escort her. Men—not boys. Sandro, who has finally grown a set of balls, and Renzo, who has lost some of his anger and is walking, not stumbling, alongside Alessia.

The future of the Beneventi famiglia walks toward me.

And I take a rare moment to appreciate how lucky I am.

The four famiglie are in attendance: a smirking Luca Ricci, still my closest ally; an expressionless Xavier Moretti, whip smart and taking it all in; Dante Lucchese, my right hand and, quite possibly, my biggest enemy; and a stoic Matteo Lombardi, whose mere presence is a sign of respect. His daughter, Elia Seraphina Lombardi, has accompanied him. Trouble in fucking pink high heels, and all of it is directed at Renzo, though I doubt he’s noticed yet.

Dai. He better handle his bullshit,afterthe ceremony.

My attention skips over the lesser men. Everyone’s tight-lipped now after one man thought he’d gossip about me at my fucking wedding. I had him beaten, not killed—believing it’s bad luck to order someone killed from inside a church. The beating silenced the gossip.

Governor Amato sits with his head bowed. Disappointed Alessia didn’t ask him to escort her down the aisle? Has the bastardo realized he’s been a shit father? Or is he disappointed his role is as observer and not participant?

My eyes shift back to Alessia, who ever so slowly makes her way toward me. Her wedding gown is conservative, with tiny pearl buttons leading up from her waist to her neck. I’m going to slice each fucking button off with the tip of my knife later on while she stands perfectly still, like a good little wife. Then, kiss her belly before licking up her sweet nectar I know I’m going to find.

Her ass is pink beneath the gown.

And God damn me, if I don’t grow hard at the thought.

It’s difficult to believe she’s a kinky little mama-to-be.

Or that her presence calms me in ways I never realized I’d been missing.

But as the priest begins the sermon, and she slips her hand into mine, I believe that with our love and her by my side, anything is possible.

THE END