Forced To Be The Mafia King's Bride (by Oma Green) novel Chapter 189

Gianna's POV

The boutique area in Monaco felt like another world. Every store looked expensive, the kind where you don't even need to check the price to know it's high.

A woman appeared almost immediately, long-haired, tall, and beautiful from head to toe. Two other sales ladies followed behind her. "Mrs. DeLuca, welcome back. Your private room is ready."

Of course she had a private room.

We followed her upstairs into a space that didn't even feel like a fitting room. It looked more like a small luxury apartment. Soft couches, large mirrors, chilled champagne, and racks of clothes already waiting.

Vera turned to us, a small smile on her lips. "I might have called ahead."

Mira blinked, taking everything in. "You think?"

Vera laughed. "I told them we needed everything. Dresses, casual wear, swimwear, lingerie too."

Mira's eyes widened. "Everything?"

Vera nodded. "Everything. You're both young, you're on vacation, and this is Monaco. You should shop until my husband's credit card screams."

Mira grinned. "Don't I love mafia men."

I laughed. "Wait until you see the bill."

The sales manager, Margaux, was already reaching for the racks, pulling pieces out one after the other.

We tried on dress after dress. Mira looked stunning in everything, twirling and laughing as Vera critiqued each piece with brutal honesty. When I stepped out in a fitted red dress, Vera's eyes lit up. "Oh, that's stunning. Spin."

I turned slowly, feeling self-conscious.

"Dante is going to lose his mind," Vera said with satisfaction. "That's a definite yes. Try the next one."

Mira excused herself. "I need to use the restroom. Be right back."

---

Vera's expression shifted, becoming more serious. "Gianna, I want to apologize."

I turned to look at her, surprised. "For what?"

"For my husband last night." Her voice was genuine. "Cesare can be intense, especially when it comes to family matters. The way he questioned you at dinner wasn't appropriate. You're family now, and he should have welcomed you, not interrogated you."

I felt my shoulders relax. "It's okay. I understand why he was concerned."

"It's not okay," Vera insisted. "You're Dante's wife. That should be enough. Your father's sins are not your own."

She reached out and squeezed my hand. "I want you to know that I see you, Gianna. Not your last name, not your father. You. And what I see is a smart, kind young woman who's been through hell and is still standing. That takes strength."

"Thank you," I whispered. "That means more than you know. I didn't know what to expect coming here, meeting you and Cesare. I thought..."

"You thought we'd hate you," Vera finished gently. "Because of who your father was."

"Yes."

She sighed, settling back against the arm of the couch. "I understand that fear. But here's what you need to understand about this family, about this life. We don't judge people for where they came from. We judge them for who they choose to be."

She paused. "I wasn't born into this world, you know. Five years ago, I was just a gallery curator in Milan. I met Cesare at an exhibition. He was there with business associates, looking bored out of his mind until he saw my work."

A small smile played at her lips. "He pursued me relentlessly. Flowers every day, calls at all hours, showing up at my gallery with ridiculous excuses to see me."

"It's hard to believe a man like Cesare pursued a woman with such patience," I said softly.

"Most people don't." She took a sip of her champagne. "When I finally agreed to dinner, he told me everything. Who he was, what he did, what being with him would mean. He gave me an out before I got too deep. But I was already too deep. I'd fallen for him, for that intensity, that darkness mixed with surprising gentleness."

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify