Chapter 18 - The Vows
The wedding of the decade took place in early spring, under the vaulted, frescoed ceilings of St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
The guest list was a fascinating hybrid of New York’s high society and the most powerful crime families in the country, all brought to heel by the man waiting for me at the altar.
I stood in the vestibule, my hands trembling as I smoothed the skirt of my dress. It was a custom-made masterpiece of vintage lace and silk, embroidered with tiny pearls that caught the light like morning dew. A dramatic cathedral-length veil trailed behind me.
"You look like an angel, Mama."
I looked down. Emma was wearing a miniature version of my dress, holding a basket of white rose petals. She had grown so much in just a few months, completely unfazed by the wealth and power that now surrounded her. To her, Alessandro wasn't a mob boss; he was the man who read her bedtime stories and taught her how to play chess.
"And you look like a princess," I whispered, kissing her forehead.
The heavy oak doors swung open, and the pipe organ began to play.
As I walked down the aisle, the entire cathedral held its breath. I saw capos, politicians, and billionaires staring at me with a mixture of awe and respect. But I only had eyes for the man at the end of the aisle.
Alessandro stood there in a flawless black tuxedo, looking like a dark god carved from marble. When he saw me, his usual mask of stoic control completely fractured. His jaw tightened, and I could see the raw, unguarded emotion shining in his dark eyes.
When I reached him, he took my hand, his grip warm and fiercely protective.
"You are the best thing that has ever happened to me," he whispered as the priest began the ceremony.
We exchanged traditional vows in front of the priest, but as he slipped the platinum wedding band onto my finger, Alessandro leaned in and whispered his real vow, meant only for me.
"My life is yours, Elena. My empire is yours. I will burn anyone who tries to cast a shadow on you. Forever."
"Forever," I promised, sliding his ring onto his finger.
When the priest pronounced us husband and wife, Alessandro didn't just kiss me. He took my face in his hands and kissed me with a desperate, all-consuming passion that made the congregation erupt into cheers and applause.
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At the lavish reception held at the Plaza Hotel, we danced our first dance as a married couple. Emma was weaving through the legs of terrifying mafia enforcers, giggling as Dante chased her around the ice sculptures.
I rested my head against Alessandro's chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart. I had started this journey hiding behind a pillar, praying not to be seen. Now, I was the queen of the ballroom, and the king was entirely mine.
