Page 36 of Taken By the Enforcer

Now, I stand in silk I chose, in a villa overlooking the Mediterranean, our daughter Cosima cooing in my mother’s arms, and I realize the truth: that failed wedding was the beginning of my life.

The wedding planner transformed the courtyard for our ceremony. Arches draped with bougainvillea, lanterns glowing as the sun sinks, tables lined with crystal and whiteroses. Cosima gurgles softly when Marcello tickles her chin. Faustino watches her like a sentinel. My mother dabs her eyes. My father stands stiff, silent, but present—because even he knows there’s no undoing what Donatello and I are now, especially in the presence of Lucca, Ludo, and Flavio.

Donatello—myDonatello—waits for me at the altar in a perfectly cut black tuxedo, his dark hair slicked back, his eyes locked on me as if nothing else exists.

I walk toward him, bouquet trembling in my hands. Each step is steady, certain. My heart swells with a joy so fierce it almost hurts.

When I reach him, he takes my hand, bringing it to his lips. His thumb strokes over my knuckles, right where the diamond he gave me still sparkles.

“Bella mia,” he whispers. “You came with me one year ago. Today, you stay.”

Tears prick my eyelashes, but I smile. “I thank God every day Aldo was stupid enough to bang Cara.” My voice cracks with laughter and wonder. “If he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have the husband of my dreams. Or our daughter.”

Our vows are simple, spoken in front of both families, but I don’t hear anyone else. Just him. Just the certainty in his voice when he saysforever.

When he kisses me, the courtyard erupts in applause, but all I feel is his mouth on mine, the strength of his hands at my waist, the heat of a love I never thought I’d find.

A year ago, someone broke me. Tonight, I’m whole—wife, mother, queen in the only kingdom that matters.

And as the stars rise over the sea, I hold my husband’s hand, glance at our daughter, and know with absolute certainty. This is the life meant for me to live.

Donatello

The musichums low under the clink of glasses and the murmur of guests. I step away from the courtyard for a moment, Cosima tucked safe with herNonna, Paolina glowing in her gown as she laughs with the women. My brothers gather near the fountain, the air thick with cigars and whiskey.

Marcello spots me first, his grin wicked. He lifts his glass high. “To Donatello—taken off the market. Who would’ve thought someone could tame the beast?”

Faustino smirks, quiet but sharp. “Not tamed. Redirected.”

Lucca leans back, the Boss’s presence filling the circle without effort. “A Romano who finally puts family before business.” He raises an eyebrow. “It suits you, fratello.”

Ludo snorts, always the cynic. “It suits him because she’s beautiful and gives him heirs. Let’s not pretend this is all sentiment.”

Flavio chuckles, smooth as ever. “Even sentiment hasits place, Ludo. You’d know that if you weren’t such a stone.”

Marcello claps my shoulder, laughing. “Still—marriage? You? I thought you’d die before you put a ring on a woman’s finger.”

I meet his grin with a slow one of my own. “Careful, Marcello. Your time will come.”

He throws his head back, laughing louder. “Mine?No, no.I’m built for pleasure, not chains. Let the rest of you rot if you want matrimony. I’ll keep my freedom, thank you.”

Faustino raises his glass, voice low. “Freedom has a way of ending when you least expect it.”

Marcello rolls his eyes, but the color high in his cheeks betrays him. “Not me. Never me.”

I sip my whiskey, watching him with the calm of a man who knows better. “We’ll see.”

The circle breaks into laughter, the sound echoing across the courtyard. But I file Marcello’s protest away. Because I’ve learned one thing above all—love hunts when you least expect it. And when it does, even beasts like us fall.

I wave them off and spin on my heel. Their laughter follows me. But my eyes fix on the most important people in my life.

Paolina. My wife. My queen. The mother of my child.

She holds Cosima against her hip, our baby’s dark curls already thick, cheeks flushed pink from too muchattention. Paolina’s silk gown shimmers in the glow, her smile soft as she coos down at our daughter.

I’ve slit throats for less beauty than this. I’ve killed men for daring to touch what wasn’t theirs. Tonight, I stand here knowing I’d burn down kingdoms to keep them.

A year ago, she was running from me. A year ago, I swore I’d make her mine. I thought I was the hunter, thought I was the one who stalked, claimed, possessed. And I was.