Epilogue Mia
Through the windowof the converted bridal suite, perched high in the hills of Dario”s sprawling estate two hours outside Chicago, I gaze out at the sky. It’s beautiful out, the sun shining bright as birds fly past the window.
Three months have passed since this all started, and the city still buzzes with whispers of the DeLuca family”s involvement. Even the press alert by Chief Harris, in which he explained that the man who shot the mayor and bombed the house was the same person and how they found his body under the rubbish of the bombed property, wasn’t enough to satisfy some.
He has done his part to cover up any incriminating evidence that might have pointed to DeLucas, yet the rumors remain. The only saving grace was a post from my friend Jake on his social media platforms, debunking the rumor about Dario breaking his fingers. This keeps us from being completely swamped by scandal.
None of that matters at this moment. Today is my wedding day, and I couldn’t be any happier. The world thinks I”m marrying a respectable businessman. Only those on the inside glimpse the demons slinking underneath his tailored suits and magnetic charm.
I inhale the sweet floral aroma wafting through the open windows of the bridal suite and smooth my hands over the cascading ivory lace of my gown, the fabric cool and delicate against my skin.
In the gilded mirror, I barely recognize the woman staring back at me with haunted eyes. My make-up is expertly applied, my hair swept up in an elegant chignon, and my skin glowing—I look every bit the radiant bride wearing an extravagant dress befitting a queen taking her throne.
Except I”m no royal—just a girl with roots in the south side.
”You look incredible, honey.” Mom”s warm hands squeeze my shoulders as she meets my gaze in the gilded mirror. The champagne and diamonds glitter in the morning sunlight, but the naked adoration in her eyes takes my breath away.
“Thanks, Momma. I just hope I look as beautiful as you on your wedding day.”
She pulls me into an embrace, warm and comforting, like when I was younger.
”Mia,” Mom starts with a concerned look in her eyes. “You do know the terms of the deal your father made with Dario have been fulfilled. You don”t have to go through with this wedding if you don”t want to.” Her eyes dart between Carmela and me, who is assisting with the final touches to my headdress.
”Yeah, are you sure this is what you want, Mia?” Gabby cosigns, her voice gentle yet probing as I stare at myself in the mirror.
”You were literally terrified a few months ago,” she continues.
I can”t explain the twisted coil of emotion binding me to Dario. After everything that’s happened, all the murders, I should want to stay far away from him. But here I am, preparing to spend the rest of my life with him. I’ve never declared my emotions out loud to anyone, not even Dario himself, so I understand the skepticism, but I think I need to let them know how I feel.
“I understand the concern, but trust me when I say there is no need. No, it wasn’t always rainbows and butterflies, but one thing is certain, he has always protected me. He’s taken care of me. He anticipates my needs and desires. Trust me, I’ve questioned myself a million times, wondering if I should get out while I can. But, if I’m being honest, I don’t want to. I love him.”
The movement in the room stops. Gabby’s jaw drops while my mom wipes stray tears away. I’ve never said it aloud, only as whispers in the night, but it’s true. I love Dario DeLuca, and I’m going to be his wife.
”Baby…” Her voice resonates with a mother”s infinite capacity for worry.
My gaze strays to the French doors, to the sweeping emerald lawns below, where an army of staff prepares for the ceremony. “As certain as I can be about anything anymore. Love isn’t rational,” I say, my voice lilting as I try to convey the depth of my feelings for Dario. Our relationship may have had a turbulent beginning, but it has grown into something beautiful that transcends any danger we may face.”
My heart feels like it”s swelling with emotion, ready to burst out of my chest. Fabric whispers as my mother embraces me, her palms cradling my face.
”Your father and I only want you to be safe and loved, princess.”
Tears prick the corners of my eyes. ”I know, Mama. And rest assured, I am.”
She presses her lips to my forehead, her thumb brushing a tear from my cheek.
Gabby looks on, her features soft as tears stream from her eyes. “Aww. I knew it.”
I hug her, careful not to get makeup on her red bridesmaid”s dress. “Thank you for always being there for me.”
“You know I always have your back. All right, everyone,” Gabby interjects, wiping away her own tears. ”Let”s get this show on the road. We have a wedding to attend.”
As we share this moment, the door to the bridal suite opens, and my father steps inside. Although his presence is unexpected, the warmth in his eyes reassures me. He has always been my rock, the one person who understood me better than anyone else.
Doctors say he has fully recovered, and I was so happy to hear that. What girl doesn’t dream of her father walking her down the aisle? It almost didn’t happen for me. And had that been the case, I know without a doubt, I wouldn’t be here.
”Wow,” he breathes, taking in the scene before him. ”My baby girl is all grown up.”
”Daddy,” I say, extricating myself from Gabby”s embrace and walking towards him. ”You are a bit early.”
”I wanted to see my baby,” he replies, his voice tender. ”I wanted to be part of this special moment for as long as I could before my little girl...” His voice trails off, tinged with emotions.
”Thank you,” I tell him, reaching up to kiss him on the cheek and wipe a few tears that have escaped in silence. ”It means more to me than you could ever know.”
He smiles down at me, his eyes filled with love and admiration.
”You look breathtaking, sweetheart,” he says, admiring my gown.
”Thank you, Daddy,” I say. ”I couldn”t have done it without everyone”s help.”
”Of course not,” he agrees, his gaze sweeping over my friends and family gathered in the room. ”But it”s your beauty, both inside and out, that makes this moment truly special.”
My chest tightens with emotion, and I struggle to hold back tears.
”I love you so much, Daddy,” I whisper, reaching out to hug him tightly.
”I love you too, Mia,” he murmurs into my hair. ”And I”m so proud of the woman you”ve become.”
As we cling to each other, I feel his strength and resolve flowing into me like a balm for my troubled soul. The doubts and fears that have plagued me since my engagement to Dario seem to fade into insignificance.
I step back and look at my dad in his dapper tuxedo, complete with a red cummerbund and matching bow tie. He stands tall, his chest puffed out and his shoulders back—my dashing, invincible protector, the man who has always shielded me.
“Don’t you look handsome, Dad?” I remark, straightening out his bowtie.
“What, this old thing?” He struts around like a proud peacock, giving us a laugh.
“Oh, I think we need a picture of the three of you for the socials, Mia,” Gabby gushes. She takes her phone from the table where it lays, and my parents and I arrange ourselves for the impromptu photoshoot.
Once we’re done, Gabby and I take a few selfies to upload later. I even take one with Carmela so I can treasure this moment and she can document her journey from Italy to Chicago. After the wedding, while Dario deals with city council matters, Gabby and I will show Carmela around the city, taking her to my new studio and the community center.
”Absolutely stunning,” a deep voice interjects, breaking the silence.
Startled, I whirl around to find Dario standing in the doorway. His eyes lock onto mine, an intensity burning behind them, leaving me exposed and vulnerable.
“Dario, what are you doing here?” Mom asks sharply. “You know it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding.”
”Si, shouldn”t you be waiting at the altar?” Carmela chimes in, her tone equally disapproving.
But Dario doesn”t waver, his eyes never leaving mine.
”I need to speak with Mia,” he insists, his voice firm but gentle.
”Can”t it wait until after the ceremony?” Gabby suggests, voicing the unease lingering like a thin veil.
”Please? I need to talk to her for just a moment,” Dario pleads, desperation seeping into his tone.
My stomach flips and flops at the thought of this moment not happening now because he, too, feels the deal that was made with me as the pawn is now null and void.
”Give us a moment,” I say quietly, unable to resist the pull in his eyes.
Reluctantly, everyone files out of the room, casting worried glances over their shoulders as they go. I brace myself for what is about to happen.
“What is it, Dario, that couldn’t wait?” I ask, masking the fear that lies within.
He caresses my cheek. ”Are you sure about this, Mia?”
I blink back tears, my heart aching with the weight of this decision. It would be so easy to walk away, to choose the familiar over the unknown. But as I look into Dario”s eyes—those beautiful, haunted eyes that captured me the day we met, despite how I tried to deny it, I know without a doubt this is where I want to be.
”More than anything,” I reply, my voice breaking as emotion threatens to overwhelm me. ”I love you, Dario DeLuca. We’re in this together.”
”Are you sure?” He asks again, his hand gently stroking my face.
The tenderness of his touch is almost too much, and fresh tears well up in my eyes.
”Dario, I”ve faced more challenges than most people could ever imagine. And in the end, you didn’t protect me because of some deal. You did it because I am yours. I love you and want to spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”
Dario”s eyes shimmer with emotion, and for a moment, it feels as if time itself has stopped and nothing else matters but our connection.
”Then let”s do this,” he says, pressing his forehead to mine.
“I’ll meet you at the altar,” I promise.
Dario kisses the back of my hand before exiting the room and heading outside, among the lush greenery that will serve as the stage for our nuptials.
”It”s time,” Daddy says, sticking his head in the door.
With those words, the situation becomes real. The butterflies in my stomach won’t settle, my nerves are on edge, and my palms are sweaty. “Can I have a moment, please?” I need to find calm in my personal chaos.
“Okay, baby girl. Everyone else has gone to get in position. I’ll be here waiting for you,” my dad says through the wooden door.
I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders beneath the weight of my opulent gown and the enormity of this moment. I close my eyes and allow my deep breathing to center me, finding my peace.
When I open my eyes, I’m looking at the young woman who, no more than four months ago, wasn’t even thinking about marriage, let alone dating anyone. My focus was solely on my activism, community center, social media presence, and family.
Now, everything is changing and growing at a rapid pace. Traditional is not the norm here by any means. Dario is the last person I ever thought I would end up with.
Being a part of a Mafia family wasn’t a square I thought I’d be marking off on my bingo card of life. I definitely didn’t think I’d learn how to shoot a gun, be kidnapped, fall in love with the man I was being forced to marry, witness a murder, and learn how to deny all of those things except love.
Yet, here I am. I am ready to take a walk that will cement my future forever as a member of the DeLuca family.
I give one last look at Mia Gordon, daughter of Marcus Gordon, mayor of Chicago, and Josephine Gordon, Healthcare advocate and nursing trainer for Chicago General, and blow her a kiss.
I walk to the door and turn the handle to my future by Dario’s side.
“Ready, princess?”
I nod, and with my father beside me, I take the first step toward my destiny, leaving the bridal suite and my old life behind.
Fear and excitement battle within me as we descend the grand staircase of Dario”s mansion. I can hear the murmur of the assembled guests, the swell of orchestral music. All of Chicago”s elite have turned out to witness this controversial union, and the press will be savaging every detail.
But as I catch my first glimpse of Dario waiting at the altar, tall and devastating in his bespoke tuxedo, everything else fades away. There is only him. Only us.
The man I love. My future husband.
My heart soars even as my thumb rubs nervously over my engagement ring. A reminder of how far we”ve come and the challenges yet to face. But I have no regrets.
This is my choice.
The delicate white flowers twine around the wooden archway, their petals gleaming like pearls against the deep green foliage, serving as the perfect backdrop for the occasion.
Rows of chairs stretch out on either side of the aisle, filled with the faces of people I”ve grown to know and care for over these past months—a testament to the fact that, despite the darkness lurking at the edges of our lives, there is still light to be found if one only knows where to look.
The music swells as I glide down the aisle on my father”s arm, with a sea of eyes on me. But I only have eyes for Dario. He stands like a fallen angel in his black suit, red cummerbund, and matching bowtie. His dark and intense gaze locks with mine, seeming to pierce straight into my soul. In this moment, everyone and everything else ceases to exist.
It”s just him and me.
As we reach the altar, my father places my hand in Dario”s, a symbolic gesture of giving me away. But I know I”m not being given. I”m choosing this and choosing Dario.
Dario”s heated stare pins me in place as he slowly takes me in.
”You take my breath away, tesoro.” His voice is a ragged whisper. ”Sei la cosa più Bella che io abbia mai visto.” The most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
An undercurrent of admiration and possession, of a man staking his claim, sends a thrilling shiver down my spine.
”Welcome, everyone,” the officiant begins, his voice steady and warm, casting a spell over the gathering. ”We are here today to witness the union of Mia Gordon and Dario DeLuca, two souls bound together by a shared destiny. Please face each other and join hands,” the officiant instructs.
”Today,” the officiant continues, ”you are making a commitment not only to each other but also to yourselves. You are choosing to create a life together, weather whatever storms may come, and emerge stronger for having faced them side by side. Before we proceed with the exchange of vows, I must ask if anyone present has just cause why these two should not be wed. Speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
A hush falls over the assembled guests, so profound I can almost hear my heartbeat echoing in the silence. I also know that if anyone does object, it won’t end well for them.
”Very well,” the officiant continues. “Mia, repeat after me. I, Mia, take you, Dario, to be my lawfully wedded Husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part,”
The officiant says after a moment, his voice solemn yet tinged with warmth, “Your turn, Dario. Repeat after me, I, Dario, take you, Mia, to be my lawfully wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part.”
And with those words spilling out of his delicious mouth, our vows have been taken in front of God, family, and friends.
”Friends and family, by the power vested in me,” the officiant intones, ”I now pronounce you husband and wife.” His voice swells, sending a shiver down my spine. ”You may kiss the bride.”
“Damn right, I’m gonna kiss her.” Dario pulls me into his arms, and our lips meet in a searing, passionate kiss.
It”s a moment that seems to stretch on forever but ends far too soon. Our bond is now sealed, an unbreakable connection forged by blood, ash, and trust.
As we break apart, our breaths mingling in the space between us, I notice the transformation in the atmosphere around us. The tension that had hung heavy over the ceremony dissipates, replaced by a sense of hope and possibility. Our guests erupt in applause. Their joy is contagious as it washes over us like a tidal wave.
”Signora DeLuca,” Dario murmurs, his eyes alight with happiness as he takes my hand and pulls me close.
We turn to face our friends and family, every face beaming with happiness for us. They know what we”ve been through—the trials and tribulations—and they understand the significance of this moment.
”May I present,” the officiant booms, his voice carrying across the crowd, ”Mr. and Mrs. Dario DeLuca.”
More cheers erupt, and I can”t help but feel overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of emotion swirling around us. I cling to Dario”s side, his strong presence grounding me as we begin our journey together as husband and wife.
”Ready?” he asks, his voice soft and reassuring.
”Always,” I reply, my heart full to bursting.
Together, we take our first steps into our new life, hand-in-hand, ready to face whatever the future holds.
The reception is a blur of laughter, tears, heartfelt congratulations, and tender moments shared between friends and family. The music swells around us, wrapping us in its melodic embrace as we dance together beneath the twinkling fairy lights strung up throughout the expansive gardens of Dario”s estate.
As the night draws to a close, a sense of peace settles over me. For the first time in months, I feel truly happy and content. We”ve faced so many challenges and overcome heartache and pain, but our love has endured.
”Come,” Dario says, leading me away from the festivities and towards the luxurious bridal suite he”s prepared for us.
Our wedding night awaits, filled with passion, desire, and the promise of a lifetime of love.
”Mrs. DeLuca,” he breathes against my ear, his voice a seductive purr. ”I can”t wait to show you how much I love you.”
My body trembles in anticipation, and I know tonight will be another milestone in our journey together.
Hand in hand, we step into the unknown, ready to forge our path, bound by love and a determination to conquer whatever challenges lie ahead. The world may not always be kind, but as long as we have each other, there”s nothing we can”t overcome.
For I am a DeLuca now. And we bow to no one.