Mafia Heir’s Broken Vows (Rosewood Hall Broken Vows)

33. Serafina

SERAFINA

I stand in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing my hands down the delicate lace of my dress. The soft ocean breeze drifts through the open windows, carrying the sound of waves breaking against the shore. My hair is pinned up loosely, with a few tendrils falling around my face—messy but soft, exactly how I wanted it. Simple. Natural. Perfect.

I take a shaky breath and stare at my reflection. For a moment, it feels surreal. After everything—the danger, the fear, the heartbreak—we made it here. To this moment. I never thought I'd get to have this, not with Alessandro. Not after all we'd been through. But here I am, wearing white, about to marry the man who both broke and rebuilt me.

Enzo's wife, Maria, steps into the room, her warm smile easing some of the tension in my shoulders. "You look beautiful, Serafina. Alessandro won't know what hit him." They're the only people who understand what it took us to get here—we've become close friends.

I laugh softly. "I hope that's a good thing." I don't have wedding jitters or fears that he won't be there. I'm a bit nervous that they'll notice I'm pregnant even though my bump isn't showing too much yet.

She grins. "Oh, it is. He's been pacing for the last twenty minutes. Enzo's trying to talk him down, but I think it's hopeless." He has no patience; the man is used to getting what he wants when he wants it. I'm sure the waiting is killing him.

I shake my head, smiling. The thought of Alessandro—the same man who once made entire rooms fall silent—nervous about today, makes my chest warm.

Maria walks over, adjusting the thin strap on my shoulder. "Ready?"

I nod, feeling my nerves dissolve just a little. "Yeah. I'm ready."

I pick up the small bouquet of white lilies and soft pink roses—simple, but elegant. Much like this entire day. No crowds, no grand ceremony. Just us, Leo, and Enzo's family. The people who matter.

As I step outside, the soft sand under my bare feet, grounding me. The sky stretches endlessly, painted in hues of gold and blush as the sun dips lower. The waves beat their steady rhythm, like a quiet promise that everything is as it should be.

Leo waits for me at the start of the aisle—if you can call the driftwood archway and scattered rose petals an aisle. His small hands clutch a pillow holding our rings, and he beams up at me, his toothy grin making my heart squeeze.

"You ready, Mommy?" he asks, his voice light and sweet. "I'm your best man too." He says and I laugh; he's taken his duties very seriously.

I lean down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Yes, you are. Come on, let's go."

Soft guitar music drifts through the air, played by one of Enzo's many cousins. The melody is tender and slow, fitting the easy calm of the ocean behind it.

Leo walks ahead of me, carefully holding the rings, glancing back every few steps to make sure I'm still there. My eyes lift to Alessandro waiting under the archway, and the rest of the world falls away.

He looks up, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe. Alessandro in a white button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms, the top button undone—relaxed but devastatingly handsome. His eyes lock on mine, and I swear I see every unsaid word, every promise, every piece of our broken past stitched together into this moment.

His lips curve into that rare, soft smile—the one he saves just for me. And I know. This is it.

Each step brings me closer, the sand warm beneath my feet. When I finally reach him, Leo carefully hands Enzo the rings and beams up at Alessandro. He says, "I'm the best man, right Dad?" We all laugh; he is the best man.

Alessandro's hand finds mine. He leans in just slightly, enough for only me to hear.

"You're so damn beautiful, it should be illegal." I blush, my cheeks warm.

A quiet laugh bubbles out of me, breaking the last of the nerves. "Lucky for you, it's not."

Father Pietro, Enzo's uncle, clears his throat, barely holding back a smile. "Shall we begin?"

The ceremony is short. Simple words, yet they feel monumental. When it's time for vows, Alessandro doesn't even glance at the small note in his pocket. He just looks at me, and suddenly, the entire world narrows to the space between us.

"I don't have anything written," he starts, his voice low but steady. "Because nothing I write could explain this. You. Us. I spent years believing I wasn't meant for anything good. And then you happened. You and Leo. And for the first time, I wanted more. I wanted this. A life with you. I swear to always fight for you, protect you and love you—for every day I get to breathe on this earth. That's all I need to promise."

Tears blur my vision, but I don't look away.

My hands shake slightly as I lift them, still clasping his. "I never thought we'd get this. Not after everything. But I'm standing here because no matter how broken we were, we always found our way back. I promise to stand by you, to build the life we dreamed of—for us, for Leo—and to love you through every high and every low. Always."

The silence after feels sacred. Then Father Pietro speaks softly. "The rings?"

Enzo hands them over, and Alessandro gently takes my hand, sliding the band onto my finger—a perfect, simple gold ring.

I do the same, my fingers steady as I slip his ring into place.

Father Pietro smiles. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Alessandro, you may kiss your bride."

Alessandro doesn't hesitate. His hands cradle my face, and his mouth finds mine—soft, certain, and filled with every word neither of us could say aloud. Our friends cheer behind us—Leo's joyful laugh is the loudest of them all. "Cooties." He says.

"I blessed them, so it's okay son." Father Pietro says, and we all erupt in laughter. Our small group of friends, who have become our chosen family join us for a small reception lunch. We sit together at a long table under the trees and eat good food, enjoy love and laughter.

Alessandro leans in to whisper in my ear, "I can't wait to see what's under that dress later on." The sensual tone of his voice and the promise of a night together send shivers down my spine. I squeeze my thighs together, already feeling the heat and anticipation building. He slides his hand up my thigh, under the table where no one can see just how dangerously close he is to touching my pussy.

"There's nothing under this dress," I whisper back to him, and he chokes on his wine. Trying to stop the cough and not draw attention to how red his face is; he turns to face me. His giant smile, and the way he shakes his head, I love every part of him.