𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝑅𝑒𝑖𝑔𝑛

71

2 Months later.

❀❀❀❀𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓮𝓭𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓭𝓪𝔂❀❀❀❀

Kailani stood just behind the massive, ornate doors of the cathedral, her heart beating like a drum. The air buzzed with anticipation, every inch of her aware of what lay beyond—Salvatore, waiting to claim her as his wife. The grand water aisle stretched before her, lined with breathtaking floral arrangements in deep, luxurious golds, greens, and whites, each petal carefully chosen to reflect Salvatore’s passionate and possessive nature.

Her dress was a masterpiece. The gown hugged her upper figure with intricate lace patterns, each stitch delicate and deliberate, lined and covered in real diamonds. The bodice was fitted and detailed with pearls, and even more diamonds, the fabric subtly sparkling in the soft light. The skirt flowed gracefully, with layers of tulle that swirled around her whole lower body like a cloud with each step that trailed all the way behind her. A lace veil, delicate as spun sugar, cascaded down her shoulders, brushing the floor meters behind her. Her hair was left down, flowing down her dress, a few loose tendrils framing her face, softening her look and adding a touch of innocence to the overwhelming beauty.

(start playing here)

As the music swelled, the doors opened, and Kailani took her first step down the aisle. Salvatore stood at the other end, his dark eyes locked on her, and she felt her cheeks flush under his intense gaze. He looked immaculate in a sleek, tailored black suit that hugged his huge, muscular frame perfectly, a white rose tucked into his lapel—a rare, symbolic splash of purity against his otherwise dark and dangerous aura. His gaze softened, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, visible only to her. But that look carried something more profound: devotion, pride, and a promise of possession that sent a thrill down her spine.

To her side were her bridesmaids, handpicked for the day—loyal women Salvatore had trusted to be by her side. Dressed in gold gowns that complemented the luxury scenery and contrasted with her dress, they looked elegant, like protectors flanking her. Behind Salvatore, his men were lined up: formidable figures, tall and imposing, all in perfectly tailored suits. They weren’t just guests; they were his mafia brothers, his most trusted allies, his own guards, standing like sentries as if daring anyone to even think of disrupting this sacred moment.

❀

As Kailani took her first step down the aisle, Salvatore’s gaze locked onto her, and the room, with all its grandeur and witnesses, vanished in his mind. She was a vision in white, her gown flowing elegantly around her, an ethereal contrast to his dark, commanding figure at the altar. His chest tightened, each heartbeat echoing with a hunger that had only deepened over time—a desperation, a fervor that felt almost primal, burning through his veins. It was as if the very air around them thickened, holding them in a cocoon of unspoken promises and darkly woven obsession.

She reached him, her small, delicate hand slipping into his. The warmth of her touch was a lifeline, grounding him in a world where she was his only reality, his sole purpose. His grip tightened, and though his touch was controlled, there was a barely restrained force beneath it, his fingertips pressing as if he could somehow merge his being into hers, binding her to him in ways the vows themselves could never express. Salvatore’s eyes traced over her face with an intensity that was almost reverent, yet possessive—a worship laced with something darker, something twisted that belonged solely to him. His thumb brushed over her knuckles in a small, lingering caress, and in that touch alone, he laid bare the storm that was raging within him.

The priest’s words seemed distant, but he barely registered them. His entire focus was on Kailani—her eyes, her lips, the way her breath hitched under his gaze. When the priest gave him a nod, signaling it was time for his vows, Salvatore took a slow breath, his eyes never leaving hers. His voice was low and rich, each word a carefully woven thread of devotion and desire.