Chapter 29
DANIKA
“You’ve been crying.” Those are the first words out of Gran’s mouth when she and Mom join me in the small chapel. She scrutinizes me with the eagle eyes of a septuagenarian who can read a room ten times better than she can read a crossword, even with her glasses.
“I have, but in a good way, I think.”
Mom and Gran exchange a look. Mom closes the chapel doors, and Gran guides me to sit with her. She takes my hand in both of hers and levels me with a no-nonsense stare.
“Dani, girl. What on God’s green earth is going on here?”
“I’m getting married?” It’s supposed to be a statement but comes out as a question.
Her thin lips purse until they’re just a collection of wrinkles. “Is that what you want?”
I try to come up with the right words to answer her, then decide there are none.
“I’m not sure how to answer that, Gran,” I admit softly.
“None of this was my choice, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it.
I want my family safe. I want to be with someone who wants me, and if I know one thing at all about Tommy, it’s that he’s crazy about me.
It’s just all so fast, and he’s Mafia. I never saw that for myself.
” I look from Gran to Mom, who is in the pew in front of us, and search for answers in their familiar faces.
Gran gives a single affirmative nod. “If I told you that you could walk out that door today and never see him again, what would you do? Because I could make that happen, so answer honestly.”
My chest constricts as I look at the double doors and genuinely envision that outcome.
Would I leave? If my family’s safety wasn’t at stake, and I could leave of my own free will, would I do that and choose to never see Tommy again?
A flood of memories washes over me—the feel of his body wrapped around mine at night, the way he always makes a plate of food for me first, the terror in his eyes when he jumped out of the shower to protect me when DiAngelo broke into the apartment.
I can’t think of a single time he’s been anything other than kind to me, even when he soothed my fears after taping my mouth shut.
From that very first night all the way to moments ago when he cradled me protectively, Tommy has gone out of his way to care for me.
You quiet my demons and fill me with hope.
I suddenly realize I’m slowly shaking my head. “No, Gran. I don’t want to leave. I’m scared, but not scared enough to walk away.”
She grins broadly. “Well, child, that tells you all you need to know.”
Mom doesn’t look convinced. “They haven’t known each other for two weeks, Ma. That’s not enough.”
Gran waves her off. “Sure, it’s fast, but time isn’t a great predictor of how well you mesh with someone.
Milo and I only knew each other for a month before we got married.
How long were you seeing that degenerate Biba before you learned his true character?
” Gran knows exactly how long. We all do.
But the question makes her point—relationships are always a gamble to some degree.
Mom’s frown doesn’t waver. She leans forward to hiss at her mother, “And what about his business? What about the danger Mafia brings to our Dani?”
Gran shrugs. “Life is dangerous, Petra. Better she’s with a man who knows how to protect her.” Gran grins at me while Mom makes a disgruntled scoffing sound. “You know your heart, Danika. The rest will work itself out in time.” She scoots closer and gives my cheek a kiss.
“Should have known you two would overrule me. You always do,” Mom grumbles with just enough dry humor for us to know she’s not actually mad. “I suppose if we’re going to do this, we better get started. We’ve eaten up too much of our time already.”
I jump to my feet. “I don’t even have my makeup here. What am I supposed to do? I can’t get married like this .”
The chapel doors burst open at that exact moment to reveal Amelie with a man and woman flanking her.
“Did someone say makeup?”
My jaw drops. “Were you waiting outside the doors for me to say that?”
Amelie grins from ear to ear. “Nah, just lucked out. We were running late, and I happened to hear you panicking as I walked up to the door. Epic timing, right?”
I double over in a fit of laughter that spreads to the others, except for the beauty team who look at us all like we might be slightly unhinged.
I want to tell them how right they are, but I don’t want to scare them off.
I really need my hair and makeup done. I may be marrying a mobster on short notice using falsified documents under threat of death from my criminal father, but I also have standards.
I want to look unforgettable as I walk down that aisle and become Mrs. Danika Donati.
The dress is magnificent. White satin fabric hangs loosely over my body to accentuate my modest curves, including the draped cowl neckline held up with tiny spaghetti straps. It’s ethereal and feminine and elegant in its simplicity. I feel like a fairy queen.
And my hair. Oh my God . My hair.
It’s always been half wild—never quite sure if it wants to be wavy or curly or straight and is usually a touch of all three at any given time.
But not today. Today, every strawberry strand has been expertly secured in an artful updo with just the right number of loose tendrils to be casually elegant.
Add a light application of makeup to help my green eyes pop, and I’ve never felt more beautiful in my entire life. Or more nauseous.
I stand only a few feet from the entrance of the main sanctuary, hands clutching my bouquet for dear life as I try to convince myself not to vomit all over my dream wedding dress.
Am I really going to do it? Am I really going to say I do?
Life is so unpredictable—that is the only true certainty.
We can plan all we’d like, but sometimes fate takes the reins.
I never could have imagined I’d be in this position two weeks ago.
It’s been a roller coaster of events that has left me no choice but to hold on tight and rely on my gut to guide me.
Right now, I’m holding these flowers so tightly, I’m practically strangling them, and my gut, despite its queasy revolt, insists that my future stands around this corner waiting for me at the church altar.
I inhale a slow, steadying breath, then take the first steps toward this new journey.
My gaze is immediately drawn to Tommy standing opposite me at the end of the aisle.
His possessive stare explores every inch of me with ravenous intensity as though he’s laying claim to the most precious treasure on earth.
His gaze makes me feel more adored than any limelight could ever achieve.
Yes, I’m doing the right thing.
One look from him, and I’m cloaked in a reassuring warmth. And with every step I take closer to Tommy, my fears grow a little more distant like roaches running from the light. That is instinct drowning out the insidious voice of doubt. Deep down, I know Tommy is meant for me.
The small church is empty save for the preacher and the six of us—Mom, Gran, me, Tommy, Sante, and Amelie.
The beauty crew split as soon as they were done, and I’m not sure of the reasons, but Tommy’s family isn’t present, aside from Sante.
It’s a tiny ceremony, but I don’t need it any larger.
I always figured Sachi would be at my wedding when the time came, but I’m kind of glad she’s not here.
Sorting through my feelings has been hard enough.
Explaining everything to her would have been exponentially more difficult.
I just hope she doesn’t disown me when I see her next and tell her all that’s happened.
The music playing softly over a speaker system quiets as I finally join my husband-to-be in front of the minister. Tommy takes my hands in his, flipping them over and reverently kissing the inside of each of my wrists.
“You are the most stunning woman to ever walk this earth.”
“Thank you,” I whisper as my cheeks flush with warmth.
“You look incredibly handsome in this suit.” The black jacket and matching pants with a white shirt and no tie are simple yet classic and a perfect complement to my dress.
I don’t know what it is about men in suits, but I could stare at him for days and never get bored.
The minister clears his throat, encouraging us to face him and proceed with the ceremony. “Welcome, everyone, on this very special day when we celebrate the joining of Tommaso Donati and Danika Dobrev in holy matrimony.”
“Don’t say another fucking word, Preacher.”
We all whip around to see two men holding guns at the entrance to the sanctuary where I’d been only moments before.
I recognize one as the bald man guarding Biba’s office door.
He’s traded in his stoic indifference for a face full of malicious rage.
And his partner is no different. Both look like they’re ready to skin us alive.
“Danika, come here,” Biba’s guard orders.
Tommy eases himself in front of me. “She’s not going anywhere.” His voice is devoid of emotion—chilling in the same way an arctic breeze foretells of a coming storm.
“Biba wants his daughter back.” The man shrugs. “Bonus for me if I get to shoot you in the process.”
“You do that, and you better pray you kill me instantly, or I will make you live to regret it.” Tommy manages to paint a horrific picture of carnage using only the hollow tone of his voice.
I should be horrified, but I find myself impressed.
This isn’t Tommy. This is Tommaso, the Mafia assassin.
This is why Tommy assured me I could trust him to handle Biba.
He’s every bit the badass he claimed to be and then some.
The Russian roars, “Danika, get the fuck over here before I kill everyone in this room.”
My entire body recoils at the fury in his voice.
“Stay put,” Tommy clips back at me through gritted teeth. He means it. He’d rather take a bullet than risk me getting hurt or captured.