21. I Do
Chapter twenty-one
I Do
(Danica)
The woman I saw in the hotel mirror an hour ago still feels like a revelation—someone I've waited all my life to become. No white wedding gown this time—thank fuck—just pure, unapologetic me.
Alessio outdid himself with the spa day earlier, transforming hours of pampering into art.
"Bellissima!" the Vegas Joker had exclaimed in the hotel suite, spinning me around the dressing room like a dark fairy tale princess. His joy was infectious, pure, making me laugh in a way I hadn't since before the first wedding disaster.
In that moment, the weight of family expectations, brothers who tried to break me, and parents who never saw me—it all fell away like shed skin.
This time, we do it our way.
Now, standing at the chapel altar, I feel Dante's eyes on me. I haven't lost his attention since I walked in. He's drinking in every detail like a man dying of thirst.
There's something beautifully primal in his gaze—part reverence, part hunger, pure devotion.
I love it!
Despite expecting someone to barge in at any moment, our second attempt at a wedding is proceeding as planned, the only minor hitch being that I forgot to put in my contacts and have to struggle my way through the vows. But nobody notices.
Eyes glued to the paper, I push through the handwritten lines, avoiding Dante’s gaze until the end in fear of losing my place.
I feel corny as shit, but he deserves it; he deserves everything.
My heart warms to see his teary eyes when he snatches the crumbled paper away from me.
Maybe it was worth all those nights editing and re-editing those damn lines, after all. Alessio offered to help, but I wanted to do it on my own.
I straighten out my posture, reminding myself to pull my shoulders back as the photographer flashes away, capturing the beautiful moments I want to cherish for life.
Now that the vows are over, my part at least, I let out a heavy sigh of relief.
This shit had me so nervous. Being sentimental wasn’t my vibe, but Dante was worthy of sincere vows.
And I meant it. All of it. He is mine.
I’m nervous for him as Dante’s turn arrives.
My heart squeezes as my dark Knight fumbles with his phone, adjusting the font size back and forth with trembling fingers. The feared Don Fera, brought to uncertainty by words of love.
Alessio's hand finds Dante's back, whispering something that relaxes my groom’s shoulders slightly. That man always knows what to say.
Dante wipes his eyes with a crisp white handkerchief he fishes from a pocket discreetly—so perfectly him, so old-world formal.
My father is the only person I know who still carries a handkerchief wherever he goes.
He insists it’s his favorite Christmas present to receive (well, that and socks).
Though, he’s not getting any more presents from me, ever.
Focus, Danica.
I brace myself for the moment, knowing how my darling Don struggles with emotional expression. The traditional vows would be enough—any words, really—coming from him.
Dante clears his throat, catching my eyes briefly before returning all his attention to whatever is typed on his phone.
I watch every move intently, every twitch of his eye, every crinkle on his forehead that glistens with little dots of sweat.
Nobody has ever declared their love for me publicly before…
"Dearest Danica," my dapper Knight begins, his voice rough with emotion, “My love, my Queen, my world…”
The words wash over me like warm rain as I shift from one foot to another.
"You have made me the man I am today, and I cannot wait to call you my wife,” Dante’s voice gains strength with each word.
"Before these witnesses, I vow to protect you with my life—now and forever. I promise to shield you from harm and end anyone who so much as harms a hair on your body.” A shiver runs down my spine, knowing the truth behind this vow, the blood it promises.
"I will cherish and adore you until the end of time; worship you the way you deserve." His eyes meet mine on the word worship, and heat floods my cheeks at our shared understanding. We both know he doesn’t use that word frivolously; it was intentional.
"In good times, and in bad. At all times, I am yours." The possessive note in his voice makes my knees weak. I know he truly means it.
“My love, you make me happier than I ever knew possible." Dante’s voice cracks slightly, and I see Alessio wipe his own eyes discretely.
But my groom pushes on, clutching the phone with such might, I fear he might crush it in his large hand. Beside him, even Emilio’s usually unbreakable face shows signs of feeling something.
"Thank you for accepting me and for loving me." The vulnerability in these words nearly breaks me as I stare at my almost-husband like a K-pop fan at her idol.
"Your strength is an inspiration, and I am proud to have you by my side,” he continues, filling my heart to the brim. “Words cannot express how much I love you, my Tesoro." The familiar endearment rolls off his tongue like honey. I’ve never seen him be this soppy.
"I will spend the rest of my days proving it to you." His voice strengthens with determination as he concludes, "I am forever yours, Queen Danica.”
As Dante’s final promise fills the moment, I reach for the handkerchief peeking from his pocket, dabbing at my eyes while silently praying I haven't ruined my makeup. Alessio's thumbs-up reassures me all is still well.
I needn’t have lowered my expectations—it was so perfect. I want to frame these words one day, maybe even pay someone to embroider them for me, maybe on a pillow, or wherever, something to remind me of this moment.
It’s not time for our kiss yet but I kiss my groom anyway, squeezing my arms around his broad chest, bathing in the familiar musk scent of a man who doesn’t bother with fancy scents.
“I love you so fucking much,” I whisper in Dante’s ear. His lips press against my forehead in response, a gesture so tender it makes fresh tears threaten.
A whoop echoes through the chapel, breaking the spell, and I laugh through my tears.
The officiant's warm smile guides us back to the ceremony, to the rings I'd almost forgotten about in the emotion of the moment.
Emilio pulls the rings from his pocket and hands us each our partner’s one—a solid black band made from titanium for Dante (simple, sleek, durable); and a thin platinum band encrusted in diamonds for me (beautiful, elegant, strong).
The rings slide on easily, they were perfectly fitted after all, and with a simple “I do,” I promise to be the best wife I can be to the worthiest Knight in the whole land.
Dante doesn’t hesitate, his I do is instant, clear.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant tells us, and this time, more than one person whoops.
Our rent-a-crowd jumps up, applauding enthusiastically as we execute the “You may kiss your bride” command with zealousness, Dante dipping me low in his arms like we’re doing the tango before kissing me for the first time as Missus Dante Fera.
Oh god, I’m Missus Fera.
Finally!
Well, technically not yet, not until the officiant oversees us signing the wedding license and other necessary legal documents moments later.
But then it’s done—final, over—without any interruptions or gunshots.
The moment Dante lets me come up for air, Alessio sweeps in like a force of nature. His hands find my waist, lifting me effortlessly as his lips claim mine in a kiss that tastes of spearmint gum and victory.
When he sets me down, he turns to Dante, cupping his face with those elegant hands before kissing him with equal passion.
"Congratulations, darlings." Alessio's eyes dance with mischief as he pulls back. "You're one step closer to being a kept man." His finger traces Dante's jaw playfully, and though my husband—god, my husband—shakes his head, his smile is pure contentment.
"Thank you," I manage, emotion making my voice thick. "For everything."
They envelop me between them, my safe harbor of broad chests and familiar scents.
"Only a pleasure." Alessio's voice rumbles through his chest against my back. "You two deserve a good wedding. That last one was a mess, to put it lightly."
"I appreciate it," Dante adds softly, reaching past me to touch Alessio's cheek with tenderness.
Alessio catches Dante's hand, pressing a kiss to his palm before announcing, "Okay, so now for the fun part. The reception."
The gleam in his eyes reminds me of our planning calls, of his increasingly outrageous suggestions that had me crying with laughter. Dante had just smiled and said, “Whatever pleases you,” content to let us plot our perfect celebration.
"You sure you don't want to do the gambling and cocaine party platter, Missus Fera?" The new name sends shivers down my spine, even as I laugh at Alessio’s teasing.
"Hundred percent sure!"
"Danica, dear, you are an enigma." Alessio’s fingers play with a loose strand of my hair, twirling it thoughtfully. "I don't know anyone who loves Vegas this much but doesn't give a single fuck about the actual gambling."
I shrug, still pressed between them both. "Why would I waste time and money with that when there is a giant playground to explore? I prefer my Sin City with extra sin, thank you."
"Such a strange yet incredible woman." His voice drops to that velvet tone that makes my knees weak.
"Then kiss me already!" I demand, straining upward on my toes, the black lace of my dress rustling between us.
Alessio's hand cups the back of my neck as he bends down, kissing me until stars dance behind my eyelids. When he finally releases me, I'm gasping, grateful for Dante's steady presence beside me.
"Come," Alessio purrs, taking Dante's right hand and my left in his. "Your guests await." His eyes promise wickedness to come as he leads us outside toward people who will soon become way more than strangers.
Looking up at my Dons—my husband and our lover, both so beautiful in their own way—I know I've found my perfect version of happily ever after.