Forced To Be The Mafia King's Bride (by Oma Green) novel Chapter 149

GIANNA'S POV

"Gianna, you're the most beautiful bride I've ever seen."

Arielle's voice was full of genuine warmth as she stood before me, her eyes shining with emotion. She looked so much like Dante in that moment, the same intensity, the same piercing gaze.

"Thank you, Arielle," I said softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "That means so much to me."

She beamed, then glanced toward the door as the wedding coordinator signaled. Time for her to walk down the aisle. She gave me one last smile before disappearing through the doorway.

I turned to face Mira, my heart expanding. Her return had been a complete surprise.

After the night I’d tried to escape, after she’d left with Bruno, she hadn’t come back. She’d been too afraid of Dante, too afraid of what my mother might do if she stayed. She disappeared, and for a long time, I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again.

We talked for hours in my room while the estate buzzed with wedding preparations. I apologized for betraying her, told her I’d never wanted to give her up, admitted how Dante had pushed until the truth was all I had left. Mira listened, forgave me without bitterness.

That was when I asked her to be my chief bridesmaid.

She agreed immediately, and the designer worked through the night to alter a deep peach dress for her, elegant and perfectly suited beside my white gown.

Having her here, standing by my side, meant everything. In all my time at the estate, Mira had become the one person I'd come to trust, the one person truly in my corner.

"Mira," I began, my voice catching slightly. "Thank you for forgiving me, and for being here by my side. It means the world to me."

Her expression softened.

"I knew you had no choice," Mira said simply, stepping forward to embrace me. "Don was going to get that information from you, dead or alive."

She paused, then grinned mischievously. "Thankfully, you're alive."

We both giggled, the tension breaking.

I hugged her tightly, feeling the sting of tears behind my eyes. During my stay at the estate, Mira and I had gotten close, and I really did see her as a true friend. I'd never had that all my life.

We broke the hug, and I added, "And for agreeing to be my chief bridesmaid. I know it wasn't easy coming back here."

"You're worth it," she whispered, adjusting my veil with gentle fingers. Then she looked me up and down, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

"Besides, I couldn't miss the wedding of the century for the world. You, the girl who once hated Don Dante with every fiber of her being, the girl who tried to escape him..."

She gestured at me, head to toe.

"Now, it seems like you're in love and eager to marry Don. Never thought I'd see the day."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and I couldn't help but giggle.

"I guess it's true what they say. Feelings do change."

Mira raised an eyebrow. "Change? Girl, you did a complete one-eighty. From 'I hate him' to 'I do' in record time."

"Sorry to break this up," the coordinator interrupted, appearing at the door. "But she needs to walk in now."

We both nodded.

The coordinator gestured to Mira, and the doors opened. Mira straightened, gave me one last encouraging smile, and walked through.

Leaving me truly alone.

My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat echoing in my ears.

Then the doors opened wide.

Piano music floated through the air, soft and haunting.

My legs trembled as I took my first step onto the white rose petals scattered along the aisle.

The guests rose to their feet in sync. Hundreds of them. The entire Mafia community, standing, watching, and judging.

I was dressed in the wedding gown I'd restyled, the one I'd transformed from the overly revealing dress to a style that felt more like me.

It was perfect now. Sexy but not overly exposing. The neckline showed just cleavage without being scandalous. The slit revealed my leg without being vulgar. Elegant lace covered my shoulders and arms. Beautiful. Dignified.

But the dress held secrets none of these guests knew.

Underneath, against my skin, I wore the lingerie Dante had chosen. The suspenders he'd specifically requested. I remembered the first time I'd gotten into the dress for the final fitting. Dante had slipped into the dressing room, his hands sliding beneath the fabric, his fingers finding their way between my thighs and inside me.

He'd whispered filth in my ear about how he'd make me remember this, how every time I wore this dress, I'd feel his fingers working me open, hear his voice in my head.

He was right.

The chemistry between us sparked across the distance, electric and reverberating through every fiber of my being.

Suddenly, all the fear disappeared. The doubts evaporated. The judgment of the crowd faded into nothing.

It felt right. Being Dante DeLuca's wife felt right.

I reached the front of the aisle, and Dante extended his hand toward me. I placed mine in his, and shivers raced down my spine at the contact. Even now, in front of hundreds of guests, my body responded to him. He made me nervous with such ease, made my pulse quicken, made my breath catch.

He leaned in close, his lips near my ear.

"Sei la sposa più bella che abbia mai visto," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. You are the most beautiful bride I have ever seen.

His eyes were full of awe, devotion shining in their grey depths.

That first night he bought me, he'd said he would break me, piece by piece. "I'll be your monster, the one who brings you to your knees."

At this moment, it felt like he'd won.

He had pierced his way through my heart. His punishments, his devotion, his possessiveness, his power had won me over.

His grip on my hand tightened as he helped me up the steps to stand before the priest, his movements gentle, making sure my dress draped perfectly around me.

He adjusted the train with surprising gentleness, then straightened and caught the priest's eye.

The priest was younger than I'd expected, maybe in his early fifties, with slightly grey hair at his temples. He didn't look old, exactly, but there was a hardness to him that spoke of a life lived outside normal church walls. He was dressed in traditional robes, but I could see the edge of a tattoo peeking out from beneath his collar.

"Try not to put her to sleep, Father," Dante said, his tone dry. "Keep it short, or I might skip to the good part."

Laughter rippled through the guests. Even I couldn't help but smile, the tension breaking.

The priest's lips twitched. "Patience, Don. All good things to those who wait."

Dante smirked but said nothing more, turning to face the altar with me at his side.

The priest's expression grew solemn as he began.

"We are gathered here today to bind and cement the union of Gianna Giovanni and Dante DeLuca as one. In the eyes of God, in the presence of this family, in blood and in oath, they shall be united."