Page 61

Nova

The room is quiet, and I take the chance to calm my nerves.

Sophie and Eden, my sisters-in-law just left, giving me a much-needed moment to catch my breath after the whirlwind of wedding preparations.

Massimo had insisted we renew our vows—even though we’ve been married for less than two months. And what my Don husband wants, he gets.

Not that I’m complaining. But the reality of standing before his family and closest allies—all in one place—suddenly feels overwhelming. I still have moments of doubt, of wondering if his family can ever truly accept me, after everything my father has done. But they’ve shown me nothing but love and acceptance. I've experienced what a true family is. And for the first time in my life, I have friends —not just Gemma, but Eden and Sophie too.

A flutter low in my belly pulls me out of my whirling thoughts. The fluttering isn’t just nerves—I’ve started feeling the baby move. The doctor told me it was gas, saying it was too early for a first-time mother to feel movement. But I know it’s him. My little bloodthirsty future Don—strong and persistent already, just like his father.

I rest my hand on my stomach, smiling as peace settles over me. I can’t wait to meet our son. And I can’t wait to spend my life with Massimo, raising the children we’re blessed with.

A soft knock pulls my attention to the door. A head with dark brown hair, styled in an elegant twist, peeks in .

“Okay if I come in?” Gina asks.

I rise, smoothing the ivory silk of my dress. “Of course.”

She closes the door behind her and waves her hand at me. “Just sit and relax.”

“I’m trying.” I place a hand on my belly again as another flutter dances through me. “I think I need to move—either from nerves or gas.”

Her laughter is warm and light. Her brown eyes—so much like Massimo’s—sparkle with affection. “You can feel him moving already?” she asks with a knowing smile. “I felt Massimo move early too, and the doctor said it was gas. I knew better.”

“So maybe I am right—and he’ll be just like his father.”

Gina steps closer and takes my hand in hers. “And is that such a bad thing, my girl?”

Tears sting my eyes. “Not at all.”

She gently squeezes my hand. “What is it?” Her gaze searches mine. Then she understands that I'm missing my mother, especially today. “I can’t replace Miriana, Nova. Nor would I ever try to. But I'm here for you. As a mother and as a friend.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you for accepting me, even though my father…”

"You are not him." She cups my cheek with a tenderness that nearly undoes me. “And us women in this family know all about the sins of the father. They shouldn't be reflected on the innocent daughter.”

I knew some of Sophie’s story. Eden’s too. But I’d never heard Gina’s.

Her eyes gleam with mischief. “That’s a tale for another time. Just know this—Massimo is very much like Tommaso. Not just in how he rules, but in how he made damn sure he got the woman he wanted for his queen.” She leans in with a conspiratorial smile. “The boys don’t know the whole story. But one day soon, I’ll tell you. It can be our little secret.”

I laugh, feeling lighter. “Deal.”

Gina sits on one of the cushioned stools and pats the one beside her. I adjust the short train of my dress—the simple yet stunning gown Massimo arranged for my favorite designer, Jiya Miko, to custom-design—and sit carefully to avoid wrinkling it.

Her eyes glisten as she looks at me. “I just wanted to say thank you. ”

I blink, surprised. “For what?”

“For giving me another daughter-in-law. And a grandchild.” She pauses, then her voice is soft. “But most of all, for being the perfect match for Massimo. For loving him so fiercely. Being the wife of a Don… it’s not always easy."

I know the torment my mother endured, both at his hands but also with the angst that his heartless decisions and actions to rule his kingdom had caused her. But Massimo is nothing like my father. Still, I understand what Gina means. A Don's life is filled with risk, threats, and dark decisions.

She smooths her hand over my loose, wavy hair resting on my shoulders. The gesture is so much like something my mother used to do, my heart fills with love and gratitude.

“You’re Massimo's queen, Nova. His equal. And you’ll do well by his side.”

My throat tightens. “I need to thank you, too. For accepting me. For raising incredible sons.”

“I've always wanted more children and can’t wait to have a brood of kids running through these halls again,” she says with a wistful smile. “And thank you for choosing to have the wedding here.”

We’re at her estate—the same place the other Santoro brothers got married.

“We can't buck tradition, right? Massimo is the most traditional and conventional of the brothers, after all.”

She snorts, loud and unladylike, which causes us both to burst into laughter. It quickly turns into full-on belly laughs that we can't stop. I’ve never laughed so hard or so freely.

The door opens and Jerome steps in, dapper in his tux. He looks at me the way he always does, like I’m his cherished granddaughter.

“I knocked,” he says with a mock scolding tone, “but you ladies didn’t hear me.”

“Is it time, Jerome?” Gina asks as we stand.

He nods in answer.

“I guess that’s my cue to go and take my place.” Gina kisses my cheek, then hurries out .

Jerome offers me his arm. “It’s my honor to walk you down the aisle to your husband.”

I slip my arm through his, my heart swelling with more love and gratitude to have him beside me. As we walk out of the room, I ask, “Do you think the cake will be okay?”

He and I made it—well, mostly Jerome did, but I helped. I've discovered that I love cooking and baking, even if I’m nowhere near great at it.

He chuckles. “I’ve already caught Vito and Creed trying to sneak pieces from it.”

A giggle escapes me. “Well, I guess it's got the formal stamp of Santoro approval.”

We step out of the room and into the wide, expansive hallway, lined with paintings and sculptures. The home is elegant and luxurious, but it's warm and welcoming. It's not a display of wealth or power—it's a home filled with love.

As we pass a gilded mirror, I catch our reflection and gently squeeze Jerome’s arm. “Thank you for walking me down the aisle.”

“Nathaniel would’ve been happy to,” Jerome says, glancing down at me.

Nathaniel and I have been getting to know each other, but he’s not quite family yet—not part of the found family I have with the Santoros.

“It was you or no one.”

My words make the old man beam.

We walk in silence, the low murmur of guests drifting in through the open windows. The crystal chandelier catches the sunlight, and I'm struck with the similarity to my life now. It's filled with so much light—so much possibility—where before it was only a dark prison.

Laughter from outside reminds me of our purpose here, and with each step, my heart pounds faster. If Massimo wasn’t waiting for me at the end of this aisle, I’d run at the thought of being in front of all these people, at the center of attention.

For years, I was put on display by my father as the Mancini Princess, and it's a harsh reminder of his brutal lessons and all the ways he conditioned and controlled me .

Jerome pats my hand, and I realize my nails are digging into his forearm. “Just focus on Massimo, Nova.”

I take a deep breath and ease my grip as we step through the terrace doors.

The quartet shifts the song to play a soft, melodic tune.

Everyone outside rises and turns to look at us.

But all I see is Massimo.

He stands at the end of the aisle, tall and broad, impossibly handsome, and radiating power. He wears a custom-cut black tuxedo that hugs his frame perfectly, with a crisp white shirt and a black silk tie. His dark hair is neatly smoothed back—which I will gladly mess up later—and his deep brown eyes devour me. Within them, there's that insatiable hunger, but deeper than that is the well of reverence and love that he always looks at me with.

The crowd falls away as I walk to Massimo.

Some moments, I still struggle to believe this is my life now. That I've found a man who loves me so fiercely and who continues to help me heal. A monster and a beast who protects me from all others. And right now is one of those times—it feels surreal, almost unfathomable, and like it's a dream that I'll be cruelly woken up from.

But as I focus on Massimo and the love radiating from him, it grounds me, reminding me that this is real, and he is mine.

Once Jerome and I reach the end of the aisle, before he hands me off to my husband, Creed steps forward. I glance at Massimo in question, and he dips his chin with a smile—first at me, then at his brother.

Creed's light crystal-blue eyes are warm as he smiles at me. “In our family, it’s tradition for one of us to give a gift of our family's crest to our brother's chosen one. However, that wasn’t possible at your first wedding ceremony.”

He holds up a pendant on a delicate chain made with rose gold and platinum twisted together. The pendant is of their family crest—a shield divided into four quadrants: a tree with deep roots, interlocking rings, a rose entwined with olive branches, and a lion’s head.

“May I?” Creed asks .

Tears mist my eyes, and I nod. Massimo steps forward, lifting my hair off my shoulders, and Creed fastens the necklace around my neck.

“Welcome to the family, Nova.”

“Thank you, Creed,” I whisper.

Massimo takes his place again at the front, then holds out his hand, ready for Jerome to 'give me away' to him. Jerome embraces me, then passes me off to Massimo.

Massimo leans low, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "You look fucking ravishing, princess. I can't wait to rip that dress off you and fill your perfect pussy with my cum."

My cheeks heat, and my arousal is instant. My core throbs, and I want nothing more than this crowd of people to be gone and for Massimo to do just as he said.

“Hey, sis. You okay? You're looking a little flushed.”

I tear my gaze away from Massimo and turn toward the voice. I choke on a laugh when I see Vito standing at the front, ready to marry us. Again.

“I thought we were going to be married by a priest this time?” I raise a brow at Massimo.

He shoots Vito a sharp look. “We were.”

“I have to marry you,” Vito says innocently, “because the priest is currently... tied up.”

To most people, that would mean the priest is running late.

But with a mafia family—and with Vito in particular…

Massimo’s eyes narrow. “You didn’t.”

Vito flashes a grin. “I didn’t.”

Then he mouths to me: Totally did.

I stifle a giggle. I’m definitely going to hell.

Massimo turns back to me, his gaze softening as he looks down. I realize where he's looking—at the small baby bump that's noticeable in my dress. His large hand gently cups my stomach. My breath shudders out of me at his tenderness—and that he's showing it so openly, in front of his family and allies—and it nearly unravels me.

His eyes return to mine. “Ready, princess? ”

I smile through the mist in my eyes. “As long as I’m with you, Massimo, that’s a forever yes.”

Thank you so much for reading Massimo!