Chapter 151: Brave or Reckless
Gianna’s POV
The reception was in full swing.
A live band played from the corner, classical and elegant. The music drifted through the hall, turning the evening into something otherworldly.
The long table was draped in white silk and covered with elaborate floral arrangements. We were seated at the head, positioned like royalty, overlooking everyone.
I had been smiling all day. My cheeks actually hurt from it.
Congratulations came from every direction. Mafia wives in designer gowns, their husbands in expensive suits, all offering well wishes and pledging their loyalty. Some seemed genuinely happy for us. Others wore smiles that did not reach their eyes, hiding disappointment as we accepted gifts and played the perfect couple.
Every now and then, Dante’s hand rested possessively on my thigh beneath the tablecloth, hidden from view but impossible to ignore. His touch burned through the silk of my dress.
I could barely think straight with him this close.
And in the midst of all the laughing and dancing, all I wanted was to be alone with him.
The ceremony had been beautiful, overwhelming in the best way. But now I wanted quiet. I wanted Dante’s hands on me without an audience. I wanted to hear his voice without having to share him with hundreds of others.
Just him and me. No witnesses. No performance.
I wanted him to make good on every dark promise those grey eyes kept making.
As if reading my thoughts, Dante leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. Then his tongue traced a slow, deliberate path down the side of my neck.
I sucked in a breath.
“Patience, wife,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “Soon, I’ll have you all to myself. And when I do, I’m going to remind you exactly who you belong to.”
A shiver ran through me. Heat pooled low in my stomach.
“Dante,” I whispered. “All eyes are on us.”
“And you’re my wife. I can say whatever I want to you.” His hand slid lower on my back, possessive. Every man in this room knows you’re mine now. Bound by blood and vow. If any of them so much as looks at you the wrong way, I’ll make sure they regret it and send a warning their families will never forget.”
Chapter 151: Brave or Reckless
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I should have been horrified. Instead, heat coursed through every layer of my body.
What is wrong with me? That should terrify me. Instead, it makes me want to pull him somewhere private right now.
“You’re terrible,” I said, trying to sound disapproving.
“You love it,” he countered, pressing a kiss to my temple.
Before I could respond, Bruno stepped up to the microphone at the front of the room. He looked handsome in his suit, his usually serious expression softened by the champagne he had been drinking.
“Alright, alright,” Bruno called out, tapping the microphone. “Time for the best man’s speech. Everyone settle down.”
The room fell silent, all eyes turning toward him.
“For those who don’t know me, I’m Bruno. Dante’s best friend, his right hand, and the only man brave enough to tell him when he’s acting out of line.”
He paused as laughter rippled through the crowd. “Which, let me tell you, doesn’t happen often.”
Dante shook his head beside me.
“I’ve known Dante since we were boys,” Bruno continued. “My father served his father faithfully for years. When his time ended, I stepped into his place. Not once did Dante make me feel smaller for it. Not once did he remind me of whose son I was meant to be. He treated me as an equal, from the beginning.”
His expression grew more serious, almost reverent.
“Don Dante DeLuca. His name alone makes people think twice. He’s feared across the country. Some say he’s ruthless, but everyone can agree the DeLuca family has always ruled with fairness.”
He paused, letting that settle.
le’s also the kind of man who’ll smile at you over dinner,” Bruno added calmly, “while deciding whether
ou’ll survive dessert.”
round the room, some people laughed nervously. Others shifted uncomfortably. The tension was
lpable.
“But,” Bruno continued, his tone softening, “he’s also the same man who loved his wife so fiercely that when she was killed, he hunted down every single person involved and made them pay. Not because it was business, but because it was personal. Because when Dante loves, he loves with everything he has.”
My throat tightened.
I knew what my father had done. Knew the pain Dante had suffered because of it. And yet here we were.
Bruno raised his glass toward Dante.
nic
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“And now, he’s found someone who can handle him. Gianna, I don’t know if you’re brave or reckless, but either way, welcome to the family. You’re going to need both to survive this one.”
Everyone laughed, and Dante leaned close to me.
“Brave or reckless?” he whispered. “Which one are you?”
“Both,” I whispered back. “Definitely both.”
“Good,” he said, satisfaction threading through his voice. “That’s exactly what I need.”
Bruno continued, “To Dante and Gianna. May your enemies fear you, may your allies respect you, and may your marriage be filled with more happiness than bloodshed.”
He paused. “Though knowing Don Dante, there will probably be plenty of both.”
The room erupted in applause and laughter.
As Bruno stepped away from the microphone, Arielle approached it. She looked beautiful in her bridesmaid dress, her dark hair swept into an elegant updo. At fourteen, she carried herself with a confidence beyond her years, though there was still something sweet and young in her expression.
“Hi, everyone,” she began, her voice clear despite a hint of nervousness. “I’m Arielle. Dante’s daughter.”
She smiled at her father, and I felt his hand tighten on mine.
“Most of you know my dad as Don Dante DeLuca. The feared Mafia king. The man who runs this city with absolute authority.” She paused, looking around the room. “But to me, he’s just Dad.”
Soft chuckles rippled through the guests.
“He’s the one who tells me bedtime stories. Who checks under my bed for monsters even though I’m too old for that. Who watches terrible romantic comedies with me just so he can criticize them and give me long lectures afterward about staying away from boys until…”
She paused, eyes landing on Dante with pure mischief.
“What was the age again, Dad?”
“Thirty,” Dante said without missing a beat.
The entire room burst into laughter.
“She’s going to ruin my reputation,” he muttered.
I squeezed his hand, grinning. I loved this relaxed side of him, the father, the man behind the monster.
“And might I add,” Arielle continued, her eyes twinkling, “one time when he fell asleep on the couch, I painted his nails. All of them. Bright pink with little flowers.”
The room erupted again.
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“The best part?” Arielle said, barely containing her giggles. “He didn’t notice until he was halfway through a meeting the next morning. Bruno called him ‘Princess‘ for a month.”
I looked up at Dante, delighted. “Is that true?”
“Every word,” he muttered, affection clear in his eyes. “I let her keep them on for a week. Anyone who laughed got reassigned to the worst jobs I could find.”
“That’s actually sweet,” I said.
“Do not get used to it,” he replied, though a smile tugged at his lips.
Arielle’s expression grew more serious.
“My mother’s death broke my dad,” she said quietly. “I was young, but I remember. I remember how he changed, how the light went out of his eyes for a long time.”
I stiffened, guilt crashing over me.
But Dante’s hand found mine, his fingers intertwining with mine, squeezing gently.
“But,” Arielle continued, “he never let me see his pain. He was always there for me, always strong, always making sure I knew I was loved. He raised me alongside my aunt, and together, I think they did an amazing job.”
She looked directly at me.
“At first, I didn’t really like Gianna,” she admitted. “I didn’t trust her. I couldn’t blame her for who her father was, but I couldn’t forget it either. But my dad taught me about forgiveness, about giving people a chance to show you who they really are.”
Emotion welled in my chest.
“So I got to know her,” Arielle said. “And I’m glad I did. Gianna is kind. She’s strong. She doesn’t take any of Dad’s bravado, which is exactly what he needs.”
The guests laughed again.
“I’m happy to welcome you to our family, Gianna. I think you’re going to be a wonderful addition. And who
ows, maybe you can teach Dad that pink nail polish isn’t actually that bad.”
Chapter 152. You Have All Of Me
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
