Mafia Darling

29 | Ella

I twirl on the pedestal and watch the skirt of the dress flow around me. It's an A-line with sheer laced sleeves, a laced bodice, and a plain, silky skirt. It feels like butter on my skin. My makeup has been applied, my hair has been done. All that's left to do is to wait for my cue.

Bella enters the dressing room when it's time. Since I have no family, she'll be walking me down the aisle. It's not traditional -- she's not related, she's a woman, and she's the help, for crying out loud, but I didn't give a shit, and neither did Marco. If anyone in the audience clutches their pearls, well, it's their problem.

It's a small wedding by Corleone standards but huge by mine. In the backyard of the mansion sits at least sixty family members and connections, and they all turn their heads to follow me down the aisle. Bella squeezes my arm reassuringly, and the smile on my face is radiant and genuine.

From the alter, Marco watches me, stars in his eyes. We both grow flustered as the gap between us shrinks, and soon, we stand face-to-face in front of everyone. Behind him is Luca, the best man, and the other boys they work with. Behind me stands Bella, Nandini, and the other maids, who I convinced to be the bridesmaids.

The priest begins the ceremony. Marco gently takes my hands in his and smiles. When it's time, he reads his vows, and I read mine, and the priest says a few more things, and before I know it, he smiles and says, "You may now kiss the bride."

Marco sweeps me up in a gentle kiss, and our audience erupts into applause and cheers. I wrap my arms around him to keep him in the kiss a little longer, savoring the feeling of joy that starts at my pounding heart and radiates through me.

Ella Corleone. My name is now Ella Corleone.

We break apart, still hand in hand, and turn to smile at his family. Our family, now. A photographer kneels in the aisle to take a picture of us and the groomsmen and the bridesmaids, and then we're off to dinner and dancing and hugs with all of my new relatives.

Marco dances with Marcine. I dance with Bella, and then with Luca, and with about a dozen other people until Marco takes over from Nandini, sliding his hand around my waist and clasping my fingers with the other.

"Mrs. Corleone," he murmurs. "Has a nice ring to it."

"If you like it so much, make sure to scream it tonight."

Marco raises his eyebrows at the statement. I bite my lip, wishing I'd said it quieter, because I'm pretty sure Nandini heard me. She pretends she didn't and grabs a guy's hand to dance elsewhere.

"Not tonight, I'm afraid," he says, twirling me around. "We've got a flight to catch."

"Ah yes, the honeymoon I left up to you." I laugh. "I trust you haven't messed it up?"

"Hey!" he exclaims defensively. "Your dress worked out, didn't it?"

Yeah, it did, and I know he chose it himself, but I also know someone -- probably Marcine -- helped him. "I'm just teasing," I say slyly. "Where are we going?"

Marco twirls me again and then dips me, one arm against my back to keep me from falling, his smiling face hovering above mine. "You'll see."