The Don and the Wife

(1) my white dress? ♡

Chapter 1

my white dress? ♡

The white gleams against my tanned skin, shining and lying to the world, presenting me as pure, when in reality I'm darker than night.

"Don't be mean to yourself, Lyra," I mutter, "especially not on your wedding day."
The dress clings to my curves, moulding against my body sexily whilst remaining classy and elegant. The deep-V in the front teases at my ample chest until it stops just before my waist.

My dark hair has been pulled back into a bun with my soft curls made to fall out in a caress across my face. My Greek heritage has gifted me with naturally tanned skin and light hazel eyes, a combination which my mother once called a blessing. My heart clenches at the thought of how she won't be with me today but I lock the emotion deep inside.
I have been raised to put thought before feeling, sense above emotion. Today is a business deal and I am almost as good at business as I am at fighting.

The door opens and closes behind me, the soft nature of the movement informing me who has entered before I turn around.

Her warm fingers run over the jewels encrusted onto the back of my dress, "I feel as though I have been waiting my whole life to see you wearing my family's crest, carissima."

Dear.

My hazel eyes flicker to the mirror behind me where I can see the Donatelli crest shaped out of the diamonds holding the back of my dress together.

I toss Adriana as much of a smile as I can muster, "This dress is beautiful, Ana, thank you for picking it for me."

Her hand waves in a 'no need to thank me gesture,' but we both know how important today is, how integral it is that I look the part. We have spent the past nine years preparing for today, nothing will ever be more consequential.

"Who else is here?" I ask her, smoothing my tattooed hands down the front of dress. Each tiny engraving meant something to me, and each is a small rebellion against my father and the image of a 'perfect lady' that he wanted me to become.

Adriana is fiddling with my hair, twirling my moulded curls in an attempt to reinvigorate their bounce, "Your father and brother are both present, carissima, if that is what you were asking."

Adriana moves to stand in front me, she shares her sons stormy grey eyes but hers have a gentleness to them which always manage to make me feel safe, combined with the crows feet implying years of happiness, she lacks the edge which is present in the photos I have seen of her son. High cheekbones and long legs hint at how the younger Adriana was likely model pretty. But despite her stunning appearance, she has an atmosphere of warmth and comfort, she has become by mother in every sense of the word and in a few hours, she legally will be.

She smiles softly and cups my cheeks "You truly are gorgeous, carrissima."

"Thank you, Ana," I smile a smile I don't feel.

She leans up and places a gentle kiss on my forehead but the tender moment between me and my future mother-in-law is interrupted by a screeching voice in the hallway.

"I swear to God, you walking Italian meatball, if you don't let me past, I will rip your balls off and serve them to you as actual meatballs...with spaghetti and everything!"

Laughter bubbles out of Adriana as she pulls away from me, "You might want to deal with that, Lyra."

My first genuine smile of the day stretches across my face and I turn towards the huge doors of my elegant hotel room.

Pulling them open, I am greeted by the sight of pink hair flying about wildly as my best friend attempts to get past the beast of a bodyguard who stands sentinel at my door.

Pale green eyes meet mine, "Will you tell this oaf of a human being to get the fuck out of my way?"

"Sta bene, Victor," I speak through my smile, "puoi farla entrare."

She's okay, Victor. You can let her in.

"Yeah, lasagna," she growls despite not knowing a word of Italian, "get the fuck out of my way."

Victor's deep brown eyes narrow viciously, "Sei sicuro, Lyra?"

You sure, Lyra?

Before I have a chance to reassure him, Violet shoves him, "She's fucking fantastic, asswipe," but then she stops, frozen in the doorframe as she peers over at me, "holy fuck," she wipes at her eyes, "you look bloody stunning, babe."

Seeing her eyes gloss with tears make mine begin to water.

"No, no, no," Adriana rushes over with tissues, "you'll ruin your make up."

"Shit, sorry," Violet mumbles, as she blows her nose into a tissue she swipes from Adriana, "and I'm so sorry I'm late, my flight from Heathrow got delayed and then it took me forever to find this place and then it's crawling with mafioso dickheads who wouldn't let me past."

Adriana's eyes scan her up and down, "Is that why you are dressed like a maid?"

Vi nods, "Yeah, it was the only way to sneak past them all."

Rolling my eyes, I tug her close, beyond grateful she is here. Violet is my rock and there is no way I can make it through today without her.

Moving to Italy when I was 12, she was the only person who linked me to my English home. Sharing an accent and our struggles, we tried to navigate the dangerous world we had both landed in.

The memory of her chasing me through the airport, luggage weighing her down, pale blonde hair flying all over the place, flashes in my mind. She never had any true family of her own and so when my father and brother shipped me off to be raised by Adriana in Sicily, Violet demanded she accompany me as well. When we turned 18, we moved to Sorrento where she attended University, getting her degree in Primary Education. Now the both of us are 21, I am getting married and she is still deciding where she wants to land.

Pulling away, I put my hands on her cheeks, "I've missed you so much, Vi, and also, I'm really fucking scared."

She lifts her petite hands to clasp my own, "I know, gorgeous, but it's going to be okay. We are ready for this," her forehead leans forward to rest against my own. "You can do this, Lyra, and I'll be right there with you."

"Not dressed like that, you won't," Adriana declares as she comes back into the living area of my suite, her heels clicking against the golden floor. She is dressed in a pale blue pantsuit which exudes the class and elegance which I have come to associate with her and wrapped in her gentle hands is a short pink dress.

"Huh," Violet mutters, stroking the silky pink fabric, "it matches my new hair."

Twenty minutes later, Vi emerges from the bedroom sheathed in the pastel fabric. The sweetheart neckline fits snug against her small chest, tightening at her waist before flaring and flowing around her thighs in a tantalising rhythm. The colour compliments her latest hair shade of pale pink perfectly and her simple makeup combined with the modest diamond necklace which matches mine, make her look drop-dead gorgeous.

She does a little twirl in her silver heels, "I'd love to see one of those Italian meatballs turn me away now."

My laughter rings through the room and Adriana smiles at me softly as I transition from sad and scared to happy and content; I could do this.

✓✓✓✗ ✓✓✓✗ ✓✓✓✗

Written on: —

Edited on: 24/01/22 — 31/05/22

Finalised on: 03/02/22

Posted on: 03/11/22 

Author's Note — 31/05/22

Um so here we go I guess, I am now starting to finalise the first few chapters of Cavallaro's story and continue writing the rest of it for you guys.

Let the games begin!!

N xx