𝐉𝐚𝐚𝐧 : 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

36○Them○(Part-2)

•Sangeet and FUN!•
▪︎Author's Pov▪︎

"Where the hell have those boys gone?" Isabella Romano-Nonna muttered, crossing her arms.

For the past four to five hours, Matteo, Xavier, Xander, Ethan, and Giorgio had been missing. And as if that wasn't enough, Alessandro, Carlos, Cassio, and Piero had joined them two hours ago.

No one knew where they were. No one knew what they were up to.

And now, when they were actually needed, they were nowhere to be found.

At least before vanishing, they had done their duties—Ethan had personally handed over Amaira and Ashvik's Sangeet outfits, and Xavier, Xander, and Giorgio had done their usual job of annoying Amaira just enough to distract her from her nerves.

Meanwhile, the elders had already completed the final checks—the decorations, security, guest lists. Only a handful of trusted people from the underworld and the business world were invited, and security was airtight.

No risks could be taken when it came to Amaira's safety.

And yet, at this moment? Instead of focusing on the bride, the entire family was standing around, grumbling about the missing boys. 

"It's fine, Mom. Let them have their time." Leonardo tried, only to get smacked on the back by his mother.

"Mom!" he yelped, rubbing the sore spot.

His wife stifled a laugh, while the rest of the family chuckled.

"Good job, Mom." Salvatore smirked, clearly pleased to see his elder brother scolded.

Leonardo shot him a glare, but Salvatore just grinned.

"Oh, stop acting like kids." Alfredo sighed, shaking his head. "We should focus on getting ready."

"You all remember the dress code, right?" Isabella eyed them sternly. "Silver and white. None of you are showing up in those all-black mafia tuxedos."

Salvatore rolled his eyes—only to immediately get punched in the back by Leonardo.

"What did I just say about acting like kids?" Alfredo sighed again, stepping in between them. But before he could stop them, Leonardo threw another punch, and suddenly—Alfredo was dragged into the scuffle too.

Within seconds, all three grown men were cursing, punching, and arguing about who started it first.

Their wives sighed.

Their mother facepalmed.

Their father gave them a death glare.

Meanwhile...

Upstairs, Amaira sat in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection with an unimpressed expression.

"Ma'am, this one looks perfect." the hairstylist tried, hoping to convince her.

Amaira huffed, ruffling her hair again, undoing the intricate style for the fourth time.