Chapter 27 - The Wedding in the HillsThe wedding was held in a private cliffside chapel overlooking the sparkling blue waters of the Mediterranean, just outside the city where the Moretti empire had first taken root.
There were no press cameras, no corrupt politicians, and no enemies waiting in the shadows. Just our closest family, Marco and the loyal guards who had bled to protect us, and sweet Mrs. Gable, who had flown in from upstate with tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.
I wore a breathtaking gown of white silk and lace, simple yet impossibly elegant, with the silver dragon necklace resting against my collarbone and Dante’s signet ring catching the golden afternoon light.
As I walked down the stone aisle on Marco’s arm—who looked extraordinarily proud in his tuxedo—I saw Dante waiting at the altar. He wore a sharp black suit, his dark hair neatly styled, his fierce expression completely softened the moment our eyes met.
When I reached the altar, Marco gently placed my hand in Dante’s.
Dante's warm, calloused fingers closed around mine, the dragon tattoo on his hand brushing against my skin like a permanent seal of protection and love.
"You look breathtaking," Dante whispered, his voice husky with emotion.
May you like
"You clean up pretty well yourself, Boss," I teased quietly, earning a low, rumbling chuckle from him.
The vows were simple, spoken from the heart, unburdened by the heavy chains of the past. And when the priest pronounced us husband and wife, Dante pulled me into his arms and kissed me—not with the desperate urgency of a man in a war zone, but with the deep, enduring passion of a man who had finally come home.
