The Highest Bidder ✰ gxg

the end

2 years later

The sky was soft, painted in delicate pastels that only a sunset over the Amalfi coast could pull off without trying too hard. Waves kissed the shore below the cliffside villa, a symphony of hushes and sighs. But today, nature wasn't the star of the show. Nah, today belonged to Lorena Gibbens and Marielle Hollis—the two donnas, the queens of the underground, standing right at the edge of their new chapter.

No bloodshed. No backroom deals. Just love. For once.

Lorena stood at the altar, her tux crisp and perfectly tailored—black velvet with satin lapels that caught just enough of the fading light. Her tie was straight, thanks to Beyoncé, who'd fussed over it until Lorena practically growled at her. But Beyoncé, being Beyoncé, only winked and said, "You're gonna thank me when your wife looks at you like you're dessert, girl."

Lorena chuckled softly at the memory, running her thumb along the silver cufflinks Marielle had gifted her last Christmas. Tiny daggers, of course. Mafia tradition, but make it romantic.

Her eyes flicked toward the crowd.

Richard—always the loud one at poker night—stood near the front, wearing sunglasses indoors because, according to him, "Real ones don't cry in public. We leak luxury." He was wiping under the shades anyway, the faker.

Beyoncé, radiant as ever, sat beside him, her gold dress shimmering like a Grammy stage spotlight. She kept dabbing at her eyes, whispering to the person next to her, "If y'all say this isn't the realest love story of the decade, you're wrong."

There were others too. Bodyguards who usually grunted instead of smiled? They were smiling. A few lieutenants from both families, sworn enemies once upon a time, now sharing champagne and shrimp cocktail like peace had always been the plan.

And then—music.

A soft swell of violins floated through the air, and everyone straightened in their seats.

Laura appeared at the far end of the aisle, her arm linked with Marielle's. The moment stole Lorena's breath clean out of her lungs.

Marielle Hollis.

Her white dress trailed behind her like a ripple of moonlight. The lace hugged her curves like it knew how lucky it was. Her hair was pinned up, save for a few rebellious curls that kissed her collarbone.

Laura whispered something into Marielle's ear, making her smile—a real smile, the kind Lorena had only seen in private moments, like midnight bathtub talks or lazy mornings in bed. Then Laura, in her deep green suit, whispered again, her voice thick with emotion.

"I've got you, babe. Let's do this."

Marielle squeezed her friend's hand and they started walking.

Lorena's jaw tightened, her heart thudding like someone had swapped it for a bass drum. But there was no fear in it. Just awe. Just love. And maybe a tiny splash of holy-shit-this-is-actually-happening.

When Marielle reached the altar, Laura pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered, "Hearts of steel, my love. But tonight? Soft all the way."

Lorena stepped forward, offering her hand. Marielle took it without hesitation, fingers slotting between Lorena's like they'd been carved for each other.

The officiant—some random guy named Mickel who had no idea he was marrying two of the most powerful women in the crime world—cleared his throat, his hands shaking just a little. "Uh... family, friends, associates..." he began, but Beyoncé cut in from her seat.

"Cut the 'uh' out, Mickel. We're here for love."

Laughter rippled through the crowd. Even Lorena's lips twitched.