Chapter 20 - The Unwritten Horizon
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The sun was setting over the hills of Tuscany.
We had chosen a quiet, ancient chapel in the Italian countryside for our wedding—far away from the noise and politics of New York.
I stood before the mirror in the bridal suite, wearing a breathtaking lace gown with a long silk train. The silver line on my cheek was illuminated by the golden sunlight, a badge of courage that marked my journey from a helpless maid to an untouchable queen.
Carmela walked into the room, holding a bouquet of white roses and dark blue sapphires.
“You look breathtaking, my daughter,” Carmela wept softly, pinning a white rose to my hair. “Julian would be so proud of the woman you’ve become.”
“Thank you, Carmela,” I whispered, hugging her tightly.
The church bells began to chime across the valley.
I walked down the aisle of the sunlit chapel on the arm of Don Carmine, who had insisted on walking me down the aisle as a sign of respect from the Commission.
Dominic stood at the altar, looking magnificently handsome in his black wedding suit. His eyes filled with tears as he watched me approach.
When Don Carmine placed my hand in Dominic’s, he squeezed my fingers tightly.
“You are my sanctuary, Skyler,” Dominic whispered softly.
“And you are mine,” I replied.
The priest spoke the sacred words, and when he pronounced us husband and wife, Dominic pulled me into a kiss that echoed with all the pain, fire, and love we had fought so hard to conquer.
The guests erupted into cheers as we walked out of the chapel into the warm Italian breeze, hand in hand as equals.
That night, as the wedding reception raged on inside the villa, Dominic and I walked out onto the high stone balcony overlooking the misty Tuscan valley.
The moon was full, illuminating the dark hills below.
Dominic wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder as we watched the twinkling stars.
“We did it,” I whispered, leaning back into his warmth.
“This is just the beginning, my queen,” Dominic murmured, kissing my neck gently.
Suddenly, a quiet chime sounded from the satellite phone inside Dominic’s suit pocket.
He pulled it out and clicked the screen.
A message from Marco appeared: The DeLuca fleet has just crossed the Atlantic. They are arriving in New York Harbor tonight.
Dominic looked down at the message, then looked at me. His grip on my waist didn't loosen. His eyes didn't show a flicker of fear.
I looked at the phone, then turned in his arms, wrapping my hands around his neck. A slow, confident smile touched my lips.
May you like
“Let them come,” I whispered into the cool night air.
Dominic smiled back—a dangerous, beautiful smile—and lowered his lips to mine once more, as the dark winds of an unknown future blew across the valley.
