Page 62 of My Wedding Mafia Style

Each one holds pale sand, a miniature emerald heart, a tiny folded paper rose, and a little gold charm shaped like an anchor. A dream in a bottle. A world built small enough to hold.A reminder that sometimes the life you thought was spiraling out of control is actually becoming larger than you ever imagined.

When the officiant asks if I take Luca Moretti as my husband, I look at the man who gave me exits until I chose to stay, the man who stopped turning everything precious into strategy, the man who still looks at me like I’m the truth he didn’t see coming.

“I do,” I say.

Luca’s eyes darken with emotion.

When it is his turn, his voice is steady.

“I do.”

And when he kisses me, there is no panic, no ex-boyfriend, no lie, no borrowed dress, no yacht pulling away from shore before I understand what I’ve agreed to.

There is only Luca. Only me. Only the wild, impossible, beautiful world we built together.

Mafia style.

Lucy thought marrying Luca Moretti was the wildest thing she’d ever done.

Then came the honeymoon.