Page 147 of Gabriel

“As okay as I can be,” he said, reaching out with practiced ease and finding my hand. His fingers laced through mine like he’d memorized the shape of me. “I don’t need sight to know you’re worrying too much.”

“I’m not.” He arched an eyebrow and I sighed. “Okay, I am.”

“About?”

I shrugged, but then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Well, I don’t know what to do.”

“About?”

“The wedding,” I admitted. “My family is blasting my phone, and I heard your brother call you earlier and bring it up too.”

It was his turn to sigh.

“Yeah, he was wondering when we’d set a date.” I tensed, and he quickly added, “I don’t want to rush you.” My brows knitted, and then I released a strangled laugh. “Seriously, Amara, I don’t?—”

“I was trying not to rushyou,” I cut in.

It was his turn to laugh. “Why do you think I would want to delay?”

I hesitated. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted some time to see if your vision would come back. I felt bad rushing you when you’re dealing with so much, and I feel like I’m doing a horrible job of helping you.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s all?”

“Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “If we could get married tonight, I’d be good with that.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed and his mouth curved into a beautiful smile.

“Then let’s do it,” he drawled. “Although, let’s give our families and friends at least a week to get their asses to Miami.”

I grinned and pressed my mouth to his. “You got it, Santos. One seriously badass wedding coming right up.”

Amara

We were getting married in three days.

The preparations were in full swing with florists, tailors, security teams, and our parents’ iron-fisted scheduling.

Meanwhile, Kian was neck-deep in chaos of his own.

Apparently, he’d become a prime target of the Triad.

Earlier this year, he’d quietly slipped Enzo Marchetti confirmation of Nicki Popova and her psychopathic husband’s involvement in a sprawling organ trafficking ring. It was the kind of truth that didn’t just expose monsters, it disrupted empires.

Now, the new head of the Triad was eager to make an example of him. Not with bullets, but with something even more insidious: sabotage. His goal was to stir tension between Kian and the alliances he’d spent years carefully building. And if Anya had been killed in Albania, it would have caused major conflict between the Santos and Cortes families.

And while he played political chess with a knife at his back, and Jet was MIA with Anya, I was supposed to be picking flower arrangements.

“I’m home,” I called, shutting the door to the penthouse behind me.

“In the living room,” Gabriel replied, and it was only then that I heard voices coming through the speakerphone. “I’m just finishing up a call and then I’m all yours.”

I chuckled at the irony of life. If someone had told me two months ago that I’d be walking into Gabriel Santos’s penthouse with a wedding dress carefully concealed while he was conducting business, I would have probably killed them.

Of course, it wouldn’t always be this way.

Once the wedding was behind us, I’d get into my father’s business and start helping Kian, and Gabriel would continue running the Santos Cartel. He and his brother agreed that Gabriel wouldn’t take over operations fully until his sight returned.

And if it didn’t… Well, we’d cross that bridge when we got there.