Chapter 29
Matteo
When I asked Anna to marry me, I’m sure she didn’t realize I meant that following week.
If she was surprised by how quickly it all came together, she never let it show.
There wasn’t time for hesitation, not for her and certainly not for me.
I needed a wedding ring on her finger immediately.
Giving her space to doubt, to reconsider, wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.
To anyone else, it might look like a shotgun wedding. But to us, to the Cosa Nostra, this marriage needed to be made official as soon as possible. Everyone in the know understands that the moment Anna takes my last name as her own, it will send the Outfit into a spiral.
This isn’t just a ceremony. It’s a declaration. A line drawn in blood.
Machiavellian motives aside, this is still my wedding day, and I’m nervous.
St. Patrick’s Cathedral is suffocating in its grandeur.
From its towering stone columns that look like rising sentinels to the stained-glass windows with images of saints casting fractured light on us all.
Every step against the stone floor echoes so loudly that it feels almost disrespectful.
Yet no one dares speak above a whisper, while the scent of incense lingers thick in the air, curling through the hushed murmurs of the guests like a warning sign.
She can still say no. Right here, at the altar. Anna can still look me in the eye and turn me down in front of everyone. And if she does… I’d have to get her out of New York before nightfall.
My own men wouldn’t hesitate to make an example of her.
If she refuses to marry me today, then she no longer serves her purpose.
Not in the eyes of every Don here. They would demand that I kill her and send her corpse to her father.
Her death would be the thing to set this war in motion.
I would rather die than ever let that happen.
I’m not sure Anna fully grasps the danger I’ve put her in. I didn’t realize it myself until it was too late. Maybe if I hadn’t given her my heart, I wouldn’t care what her answer would be.
But I did give her my heart… and so much more. Not that she knows it.
A muscle ticks in my jaw as I roll my neck, impatience crawling under my skin.
The pews creak softly as the last remaining stragglers settle in, the low hum of whispered conversations rippling through the cathedral.
I’m unsure whether everyone here is more excited about the wedding or what comes after. And I’m not referring to the reception.
War is coming. And this… this is meant to be the spark.
God, I hope this is the spark. I don’t even want to think about the alternative.
Still, it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t have a backup plan in place.
If Anna says no to marrying me, I have a car waiting outside to drive her to the airport.
Vincent and his entourage haven’t left my city yet, and though I haven’t found out where they are hiding, their private plane is still parked at Teterboro Airport.
I’ll make an excuse to the other Dons about needing more time to persuade Anna into marrying me, and drive her to New Jersey myself.
I’ll put her on the plane then and order the pilots to fly her back to Chicago.
I’ll deal with the fallout of my actions after.
Though I still want New York free from the Outfit’s thumb, I won’t risk Anna’s life for it. None of this was ever meant to put her in danger. It was always about saving my city. Saving my city and making her mine.
Everything I’ve done has led to this moment. Maybe it started as revenge, but now… all I want is to finally call her my wife.
Since Anna didn’t choose a maid of honor, for obvious reasons, I also declined naming a best man. So I stand alone at the altar beside Father Benedetto, who waits to officiate the ceremony.
Niccolò and Raffaele sit beside my mother in the front pew.
My mother is the only one smiling at me, her eyes glassy with tears, her hands clasped tightly in her lap in prayer.
Praying that this day ends in celebration instead of bloodshed.
At least she’s still in my corner. Raffaele looks like he wants to strangle me, and Niccolò doesn’t look much better. And I know why.
I don’t let myself think about why Niccolò is pissed at me on my wedding day, of all days. That shitstorm will have to wait. If he’s been able to keep his disgruntlement to himself this long, he can wait a few more hours.
As if in tune with my inner turmoil, the organist starts playing, filling the cathedral with a bright, familiar Wedding March. And as if on cue, every head turns toward the entrance.
She’s here.
The massive wooden doors groan open, coaxing light to spill in from behind her, framing her silhouette like something divine. And for a second, I forget how to breathe.
In a soft, flowing white gown, she walks toward me, ignoring everyone else in attendance.
The pearl-white fabric trails behind her, catching the sunlight with each step, while her bare-shoulder Vera Wang dress clings and falls in all the right places, making her seem almost ethereal.
As she walks closer to me, she looks less like a lamb before the slaughter and more like a queen.
Almost as if she’s ready to replace her halo with a crown.
Somehow, I’ve never felt more unworthy of her.
My chest tightens painfully as my eyes lock onto hers.
Anna looks… breathtaking. And utterly miserable.
I move before even registering it as I descend from the altar to meet her, taking her warm, tense hand in mine and leading her gently up the steps.
“Hi,” I murmur, my voice quieter than I intended.
Her fingers slip out of mine instantly.
“Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” she replies, her tone clipped, her gaze already shifting past me to the priest.
Cazzo.
This isn’t how it was supposed to be. This was not the wedding Anna deserved. She should be smiling. Radiant. Happy. Instead, she looks as if she were attending her own execution. It’s only her pride that prevents her from showing my guests how defeated she feels.
I’ll fix this. I’ll make it right.
I swear I will make up for this, vita mia.
I will make it up to you… somehow.
I swallow the bitterness rising in my throat and force myself to stand tall as I redirect my focus away from her and onto Father Benedetto. He begins the ceremony, his voice carrying through the vast space, blending with the distant crackle of candles and the faint rustle of fabric.
I barely hear a word he says because beneath the sacred marriage rites and the watchful eyes of fallen saints, all I can think is that I’ve stolen something precious from her. That I’m once again the thief of all her joy.
My heart breaks at the way Anna forces herself to stand still, every inch of her body rigid with restraint.
Her hands stay clasped in front of her, fingers curling ever so slightly, as if fighting the urge to fidget.
She keeps her expression as blank as possible, as if afraid that everything inside her will spill out if even a single crack shows.
She doesn’t want anyone to see how vulnerable she is.
How powerless she feels. She’ll never give anyone here the satisfaction.
My girl is so strong. So very fucking strong.
I knew she would make the right choice.
Of course she isn’t doing this for me. She’s doing it because I promised her no harm would come to her family. And I fucking meant every word.
Vincent deserves to die by my hand. Marcello even more so.
But for Anna, I’ll let them live. Now that I’m Capo dei Capi of the Cosa Nostra, no one will dare touch them without my say-so, and anyone who does won’t live long enough to regret it.
Her family is under my protection now, whether they know it or not.
I know the other heads of the families won’t like this wedding gift to my wife, but they’ll have to bite their tongues regardless.
I promised them I’d take back our city, and I will.
I never said I’d have to kill Romano to do it.
Father Benedetto’s voice cuts through my thoughts as he asks the question that will finally bind us together.
“Matteo Elia Donato, do you take Annamaria Bianca Romano to be your lawfully wedded wife?”
A slow smile spreads across my face as I turn toward her, ready to make my vow. “I do.”
No hesitation. No doubt. There never was.
Father Benedetto nods, then turns to Anna. “And do you, Annamaria Bianca Romano, take Matteo Elia Donato to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Unlike me, Anna isn’t as quick with her answer. Her silence stretches as she looks deep into my eyes, as if searching for something. My heartbeat slams against my ribs, loud enough I swear the entire church can hear it. My fingers twitch at my sides as my gaze pleads with her.
You love me, Anna. You do.
You want this just as badly as I do.
Please remember. For both our sakes.
Anna’s lips part, her chest rising with a quiet breath while a flicker of trepidation crawls up my spine. “I do.”
With those two beautiful words, air rushes back into my lungs so fast it almost hurts.
Father Benedetto smiles faintly as he turns back to me and asks, “Do you have the rings?”
I reach into my pocket and pull out the small velvet box. The priest gives a pleased nod before instructing Anna to repeat after him. She swallows, her fingers trembling a little as she takes the ring from the box and begins to recite her vows.
“I, Annamaria, take you, Matteo, to be my husband. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life,” she says as she slides my wedding band onto my finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”
Her voice is soft, but it doesn’t break. Not once. And it fills my heart with hope. Hope that one day these won’t be hollow words, but vows she will wholeheartedly keep—promises she truly believes in.