Forced To Be The Mafia King's Bride (by Oma Green) novel Chapter 177

Gianna's POV

My heart wouldn't stop pounding. The sound of it filled my ears, drowning out everything else until all I could hear was that frantic rhythm beating against my ribs like it was trying to break free.

I'd done what Dante told me. I'd pressed myself to the floor of that car with my cheek against the cold leather and listened to doors opening, shoes hitting pavement, the sound of men repositioning themselves around us like a chessboard.

I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

But then the thought of Dante getting shot flashed in my mind. While I was just sitting here, hiding like a coward while he bled out on some random street in Monaco?

I couldn't just sit there.

I raised my head slowly, just enough to peek through the window. My hands were shaking.

Dante was standing in the middle of the road, gun at his side, facing six men who looked like they'd walked out of some crime thriller.

Dark suits, broad shoulders, hands resting near their waistbands where I knew weapons were hidden. Then another man stepped out from behind one of the SUVs.

He was older, with silver hair and a beard that was neatly trimmed. He wore a cream suit and moved like he owned the entire coastline.

He said something to Dante, gesturing with a cigar, and then I saw Dante lower his gun.

They were talking.

But I couldn't hear what they were saying, and I couldn't see Dante's face clearly enough to know if he was okay. My brain kept screaming that something could still go wrong.

That any second, one of those men could pull a trigger and….

I grabbed the door handle and shoved it open.

"Mrs. Deluca!" Elio's voice came from the front seat. "Mrs. Deluca, wait…"

I didn't wait. I bolted from the car, my legs moving before my brain could catch up. I could hear Elio calling after me, but none of it mattered. All that mattered was getting to Dante.

"Dante!"

His head snapped toward me, eyes going wide. I crashed into him so hard I nearly knocked us both off balance. My arms wrapped around him and I held on as tight as I could, my face pressed against his chest.

He was solid and alive.

"Gianna..." His arms came around me immediately. "Gianna, it's okay. I'm okay."

But I couldn't let go. My fingers dug into his jacket and my whole body was shaking so hard my teeth were chattering.

"Hey." His voice softened, his hand moving in slow circles against my back. "Hey, look at me."

I pulled back just enough to look up at him. His face was calm, not a scratch on him, but there was worry in his eyes when he looked at me.

"I'm alright, okay?" He brushed a strand of hair away from my face. "I'm right here. Nothing happened."

I nodded, but I still couldn't quite catch my breath.

My eyes darted past him to the men standing around us. They had all lowered their weapons, but they were still there, watching.

And Dante was standing here completely calm, like this was normal.

"What's going on?" My voice came out shaky. I looked at the older man in the cream suit. "Who is he?"

The man's face lit up like I'd just made his entire day.

He took a step closer, and I noticed he had the same intensity in his eyes that Dante had, but there was warmth there too, and that confused me.

"Is this her?" He spread his arms wide, cigar still burning between two fingers. "Gianna, look at you. The one who was ready to run into danger for my nephew."

Dante exhaled through his nose, and I felt some of the tension drain out of him.

A wry grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Gianna, this is my uncle."

I blinked. "Your uncle?"

"Cesare Deluca, cara." Before I could react, he took my hand and pressed his lips to my knuckles.

His grip was warm, his beard tickling my skin. When he looked up at me, his eyes were twinkling. "And you, beautiful young lady, must be the bride."

My cheeks flushed. I tried to smile, still catching my breath. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Deluca."

"Mr. Deluca?" He laughed loudly, like that was the funniest thing he'd heard all week.

"Call me Cesare, or Uncle, if you prefer. We're family now." He turned to Dante, still holding my hand. "Look at her, Dante. Bellissima. Those eyes. That face. You're a lucky man, nephew."

"I know," Dante replied.

"Do you?" Cesare finally released my hand but kept his attention on me.

"I owe you an apology, cara. I wanted to be at your wedding. A Deluca wedding is a big event. But I was stuck in Prague dealing with..." He waved his hand vaguely. "Business. Ugly business. But I sent gifts, yes? Did you get them?"

I nodded, thinking of the mountain of gifts we'd received. I honestly wasn't sure which ones had come from him, but it seemed safer to just agree.

"We did. Thank you. They were beautiful."

"Good." He beamed at me. "I heard it was a beautiful ceremony. Big. Everyone who matters was there." He looked at Dante. "You did it properly. I'm glad."

His eyes settled on me again. "Your first time in Nice, bella?"

I nodded.

"Then you must see it properly. With family." He said it like the matter was already settled.

I looked at Dante. He was running a hand down the back of his neck, clearly not excited about the change of plans.

"Thanks, Uncle. But we weren't looking for company," Dante replied before I could.

"And yet." Cesare dropped the cigar and crushed it under his shoe. "Here I am." He began walking back toward his car like a king returning to his throne. Over his shoulder, he called out,

"You told Elio to keep your secret. But you should know by now, nephew, that no secret exists in this city that I do not already own."

He paused and turned back just enough to look at Dante directly. "Nobody hides anything from me. Not in my own home."

The warmth in his face was real, but so was the weight behind the words. "You, of all people, should know that."

Dante held his uncle's gaze for a long moment.

Then Cesare's face broke into a grin again, all warmth and mischief. "Come. Both of you. I know you wanted to spend your honeymoon in the villa. I was once young too, you know. I understand."

He gestured broadly toward his car. "You'll have your privacy. Enjoy each other. But tonight, we eat, we drink, and maybe I'll tell you stories about when your husband was a boy."

I smiled. "Now I'm really interested to hear all about it."

He looked at me, eyes twinkling. "He was terrible. Always getting into trouble."

"I wasn't that bad," Dante muttered.

"You set fire to my boat!"

"I was twelve."

"And terrible!" Cesare laughed, delighted with himself. He turned back to his car. "Come, come. You'll love the house, cara. I promise you that."

I felt Dante's hand find the small of my back.

I leaned into it, still processing everything. I looked up at Dante and whispered, trying to keep my voice light, "Why didn't you tell me your uncle was kind, a prankster, but the Mafia kind?"

Dante's eyes cut to mine, and for a second I thought he might actually smile.

Instead, he leaned down, his mouth close to my ear. "That's exactly why I didn't."

From behind us, Cesare's voice boomed out. "A prankster? Nephew, your wife thinks I'm a prankster!" He was laughing, clearly delighted. "I like her already. She has good instincts."