Forced To Be The Mafia King's Bride (by Oma Green) novel Chapter 238

Dante's POV

Everything had to be perfect. The table had already been set by the beach. Candles were lit inside glass holders, a bottle of wine sat waiting in a silver bucket, and strings of lights hung between the palm trees, lighting up the sand.

I'd left Gianna about an hour ago, claiming I needed to handle some business calls. The truth was, I needed time alone to set this up and make sure every detail was exactly right.

The honeymoon would be over soon. We would return to the real world, to my responsibilities, to the chaos that came with being who I was.

But tonight was ours. A moment life had offered us, and I wanted to treasure every second of it.

I was so glad we had come here, that I had planned this, that she was mine.

Even if the waiting was killing me.

My cock stirred at the thought, already half hard despite the cold shower I had taken earlier. Six more goddamn days before I could bury myself inside her again, feel her tight heat wrapped around me with nothing between us.

I did not know if I would last.

But Gianna's decision about waiting to have a baby was important. She had dreams, plans for her future, and I would not come between her and those dreams. No matter how badly I wanted to fill her up, watch my cum drip out of her, know that she could be carrying my child.

Still, how could she even suggest using condoms? After everything we had shared, after I had felt what it was like to be inside her raw, skin to skin, nothing separating us.

"Mr. DeLuca?"

I turned to see Lucia approaching from the villa, a knowing smile on her face.

"Mrs. DeLuca is here," she said softly. "And she looks beautiful."

I looked up toward the path, and the breath punched out of my lungs.

Gianna.

She stood at the edge of the beach, backlit by the soft glow from the villa, and I had to physically restrain myself from going to her immediately.

The white dress she wore was simple but devastating, flowing and divine, the fabric catching the breeze and molding to her curves. Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders in loose waves, and fuck, that red lipstick made me want to smear it all over her body.

She was so goddamn beautiful it hurt to look at her.

And she was sexy. The dress was modest, almost innocent, but the way it clung to her breasts, the hint of her legs through the slit, the bare shoulders, my mind was already undressing her, already imagining laying her down in the sand.

I forced myself to move, crossing the beach toward her in slow steps when what I really wanted was to run.

I had dressed for the occasion, white pants and a matching shirt, the sleeves rolled up to my forearms.

"Gianna," I breathed as I reached her, taking her hand and bringing it to my lips. "You're stunning. Absolutely stunning."

A blush colored her cheeks, and I loved how she could still react that way after everything we had done together. "You don't look so bad yourself," she said, her eyes roaming over me with obvious appreciation. "Very handsome. And tempting."

I smiled, linking her arm through mine. "Come. I have something to show you."

I led her down to the table I had set up near the water's edge, the perfect location to hear the waves but far enough that we would not get wet.

Her eyes widened as she took in the scene, the candles, the flowers, the carefully arranged place settings.

"Oh..." She pressed a hand to her chest, turning to look at me with shining eyes. "Dante, this is..."

"For you," I finished, pulling out her chair. "All for you."

She sat slowly, her fingers trailing over the white tablecloth. "Thank you. This is beautiful. So beautiful."

I took my seat across from her, unable to stop smiling. "You're the most beautiful sight here, pretty doll. Everything else is just decoration."

She laughed, that musical sound that never failed to make my chest tight. "Smooth talker."

"Just honest." I reached for the wine bottle, a vintage I had been saving for a special occasion.

"How long did you plan all this?" she asked, watching me pour.

"A couple of days." I filled her glass, then mine. "I wanted it to be perfect."

"It is." She met my eyes across the table, and the emotion there made something warm unfurl in my chest. "Thank you for making this honeymoon so special."

I lifted my glass. "Thank you for being here. For giving us a chance."

We clinked glasses, the crystal ringing in the night air.

"To many more years of happiness," I said.

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