20. Vows
Chapter twenty
Vows
(Dante)
Twelve years after the first time I said I do, I’m ready for it to be the final time I utter those words.
This time, I’m more restless, though.
My fingers twitch, longing for the familiar weight of a gun.
Alessio's reassurances echo in my mind—“We're fully protected, amore mio.
My men won't let anyone pass.” But the memory of the first failed wedding refuses to fade.
The sound of gunshots still rings in my ears, drowning out the soft music playing in the quaint hotel chapel with the golden pews and draped walls that looked more like a movie set than a place of worship.
Earlier today, I had high hopes that a quick workout would clear my head and settle the nervousness that twisted my stomach into knots.
But now, as I stand in front of a room full of mostly strangers, waiting for my bride to approach (again), I feel anything but settled.
Perhaps I should’ve joined the spa day outing instead.
The door creaks open, and my heart leaps into my throat. But it's just another of Alessio's friends—a tall woman with cascading purple hair and a suit that shimmers like starlight. She catches my eye and winks, her easy smile a stark contrast to the tension thrumming through my body.
“A weird and wonderful bunch of queers”—that’s what Danica calls Alessio’s crew affectionately, and it’s a fitting description. Such beautiful people.
There is no one from any of the crime families here, no business contacts, no relatives. Not today. The only other familiar face outside the wedding party is Adira and her partner Rani.
Adira and Danica have remained friends after the former helped us establish our dynamic. The two of them often go to shows and random events together. It was good to see Danica finally make some friends.
The door opens again, and I grab Alessio’s hand for support, safe in the knowledge that I don’t have to worry about who clocks our familiar intimacies today.
And then I see her.
On cue, Danica appears in the doorway, a vision that steals the breath from my lungs.
I look from my bride to my boyfriend, and both are grinning as wide as their faces allow. So am I.
Dio mio, she looks out of this world!
Danica is dressed from head to toe in black.
Leather and lace intertwine in an intricate dance, cascading to the floor in a collage of textures.
The dress clings to her curves before flowing out into a river of midnight that trails behind her.
Sheer lace embraces her arms to the elbow, a delicate contrast to the leather harness straps hugging her bodice like a lover's embrace.
Emilio guides her down the short, carpeted aisle, this time a path lined with only five rows of seats.
Dark red roses and white tulips brighten up the space, their perfume mingling with the heady scent of anticipation that hangs in the air.
My wedding attire pales compared to my bride’s—a simple black suit, unremarkable save for the deep red rose nestled in my breast pocket.
Alessio planned it all, pinning the rose to my jacket before we entered the chapel.
My shirt is buttoned up all the way, my collar hugging my neck securely, making me feel safe.
It feels different today.
No children this time, no violence either. Just my stunning wife-to-be with her dark make-up and pinned-up, curled hair walking towards me, looking like the gothic bride of the year.
As Danica draws closer, the world around me blurs and fades. The music becomes a distant hum, overpowered by the thundering of my own heart.
Her eyes, rimmed with smoky shadow, lock onto mine. A smile plays on her painted lips, and suddenly, my knees threaten to buckle. Alessio's hand in mine becomes my anchor, his touch a silent reassurance that this is real, that we’re finally doing this despite everything.
The song—whatever it was—finishes, and Emilio's hand clasps mine, firm and warm, as he places Danica's hand in my own. The weight of her familiar touch sends a jolt through my spine, catching my breath in my throat.
Alessio leans in, his lips brushing Danica's cheek in a gossamer-light kiss, careful not to disturb her artfully applied makeup. As he takes his place beside her, I can't help but glance back at the chapel doors, half-expecting them to burst open at any moment.
Danica blows me a kiss, and I have to clench my fists to keep them from shaking. Part of me wants to grab her and kiss her immediately, fully, but I know I have to wait until the formalities allow such actions.
As we turn to face the officiant, I steal one more glance at my bride.
In her black gown, she embodies everything she is—strong, unconventional, breathtakingly beautiful.
A far cry from the traditional white dress from before, this is pure Danica.
My dark Queen, my partner in crime (literally), my everything.
Our officiate is a slender figure with a radiant smile and long black hair cut into a mullet. They must be about Danica’s age, dressed in a loose-fitting purple suit and shiny loafers.
I struggle to focus on any of their words as my eyes keep drifting to Danica—who is even more magnificent up close.
She is still so young, only 27, but my god, she’s grown up a lot in the past few years. The older she gets, the more she settles into her features, becoming more breathtaking with each passing day.
Emilio pats my arm, and I smile like a fool.
Today, I want to remember every detail of our special day. More than anything, I just want to be married already. I want to be Danica’s, forever—officially—owned.
Unlike my first wedding, the ceremony is short, concise. It’s also not in Italian like when I married Elena.
Twelve years ago, the pews in the cathedral were packed with our family and friends, Luca by my side as my best man.
The thought of my delinquent brother makes me wince for a second, but I push the thought away. So much has changed since then; I have changed so much.
Twelve years is a long time when you’re in the business of death and debt. I feel like I’ve aged three decades since my first wedding.
After Elena’s death, I vowed I would never love again, never get married to anyone else. But for Danica, I would give it all, whatever she wanted. My Queen deserved to have all her wishes fulfilled.
And her wish was for us to write our own vows…
It’s been giving me sleepless nights for months as I tried to perfect my awkward wording, the bin in my study littered with crumbled-up papers of earlier attempts.
Even with Alessio’s help, I’m still not confident it’s good enough. But there’s nothing else I can add now.
The realization doesn’t slow the rhythm of my racing heart, though.
I’m relieved not to be going first.
"Danica, are you ready?" the officiant asks.
She nods, reaching into her cleavage with a playful smile that makes my heart skip. The folded paper she withdraws bears creases from being read and refolded countless times.
As I hold her hand, Danica reads her vows like a letter, promising me more than I am worth…
Her voice shakes, but she pushes through, catching my eye between sentences to share a soft smile that melts me into a puddle of mushy feelings.
My beloved Dante,
I am filled with overwhelming love and gratitude as I stand before you today.
You, my darling Knight, have given me strength I never knew I had.
In your arms, I have found refuge from the chaos of life.
I can never thank you enough for believing in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.
With you by my side, I feel invincible because I know that, together, we can conquer anything.
I vow to cherish and honor you for all the days of my life.
To stand by your side through every trial and triumph that may come our way.
I will protect you with all that I am, shielding you from harm and keeping you safe.
With you, I have found my true partner, my soulmate, my everything.
I can’t wait to spend the rest of my days as your wife.
My darling boy, I love you.
More and more each day.
You are mine.
To have and to hold.
Until the end of my time.
Forever and always.
As Danica's final words hang in the air, a profound silence settles over the chapel. My vision blurs, the world around me softening at the edges as tears well up unbidden.
I blink rapidly, trying to clear my sight, unwilling to miss a single moment of this. A droplet escapes, trailing down my cheek, but I make no move to wipe it away.
Danica's eyes meet mine, a universe of understanding passing between us in that single glance. Her smile, soft and knowing, breaks through my haze of emotion like a ray of sunlight.
Without conscious thought, both my hands reach for hers. Our fingers intertwine, the warmth of her skin grounding me in this moment of beautiful, terrifying openness.
Words crowd my throat, a jumble of gratitude and love and disbelief, but they tangle on my tongue.
How can I possibly articulate the magnitude of what her vows mean to me? The idea that someone—that Danica—would choose to declare such devotion, not just to me but before all these witnesses? It's almost too much to comprehend.
She is about to crumble up the paper again when I take it from her and shove it into my pocket. I want to keep it, always.
A soft chuckle escapes Danica's lips. "Silly boy," she whispers, her voice carrying a fondness that washes over me like a warm breeze. The familiar endearment, so at odds with the formality of the occasion, breaks through the last of my emotional paralysis.
A smile tugs at my lips, mirroring hers, as a sense of lightness spreads through my chest.
And then it’s my turn.
I take a deep breath, feeling the weight of Danica's hands in mine, the steady presence of Alessio and Emilio at our sides.
The words I've prepared suddenly seem inadequate in the face of Danica's heartfelt declaration.
But as I look into her eyes, patient and loving, I know that whatever I say will be enough.
With one final squeeze of Danica's hands, I steel myself.
It's time to bare my soul.
Please don’t stutter!