Azalea Faye Larau - The sweetheart socialite with a fire underneath and an up and coming ballet dancer in London striving to stay afloat in an ocean of sharks, all the while dealing with heartbreak and loss.
Harlan Emeric Marchetti - The Italian Maf...
"Dutiful daughter, all my plans were laid, tendrils tucked into a woven braid."
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- A Z A L E A - L A R A U - M A R C H E T T T I -
My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure Uncle Andre could hear it. The grand doors before us stood tall and imposing, like a gateway to my new life.
Behind them, the aisle awaited, lined with flowers and filled with people, all eyes waiting to watch me walk towards a man who was already my husband—one they didn't truly know.
I could hardly breathe, my chest tight with nerves. I fidgeted with my bouquet, the delicate white roses trembling in my hands. My palms were clammy, my knees weak, and no amount of deep breaths seemed to steady me.
"Breathe, Azalea. You're trembling." Uncle Andre placed a firm hand on my shoulder.
I looked up at him, his warm eyes crinkling at the corners. He looked so much like my mother in that moment and a wave of sadness crashed over me, swift and powerful before I shook it away.
My eyes swept over the girls, my bridesmaids, standing in front of me, quietly talking among themselves and waiting for their cue with the groomsmen, their arms linked.
"You don't have to do this," Uncle Andre whispered, his voice gentle but firm, "If you're not ready, if you don't want this, we can walk right out that door, and I'll handle the rest. Just say the word."
I almost laughed. If only it were that simple. If only walking away was an option. But I had made my choice the moment I signed those papers and the moment I agreed to his terms. There was no turning back now.
"I have to," I whispered, my voice cracking, "I've already made my choice."
"I wish you didn't have to carry all of this on your shoulders." His eyes softened.
"I'm not a child anymore, Uncle Andre." I looked away, blinking back tears.
"No, you're not," He sighed, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had settled on them, "But you'll always be my little girl, just like Jamie. And I can't help but worry."
"If he ever hurts you in any way, you come to me. You come to us. I don't care who he is or how powerful, we have just as much power. You're family, and we protect our own." He hesitated, his grip on my shoulder tightening just a bit.
"This wedding is more than just a marriage. It's a symbol, a historical mark on the future of the French and Italian mafias." His words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the weight this day carried.
I wasn't just marrying Harlan Marchetti, I was stepping into a world of power and politics, where my every move would be scrutinized. This wedding could either bridge two empires or plunge them into chaos.
