“Do you, Serenity Francessca Cichello, take Nicola Giovanni Pitucco to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
My lower lip quivers. “I do take Nicola Giovanni Pitucco to be my lawfully wedded husband.”
The smile that lifts Nico’s cheeks is one I hadn’t seen since our time in New York.
“Oh, how cute are they,” someone says.
I peek to my right. My black American Bulldog Bruella and a white American Bulldog walk down the aisle with little pillows strapped to their backs.
Nico steps down and retrieves the rings from the dogs. He gives them a quick pat and send them on their way. The guests go wild.
How did he know where my dog was? When did he get my dog?
“Bruno loves Bruetta,” Nico says as he steps in front of me.
“That was adorable.” I smile.
“The lovely couple will exchange vows,” the officiant says.
My heart races. Shoot, I didn’t prepare vows.
“I promise to love and support you. I will always protect Serenity for eternity,” Nico promises.
Goosebumps raise on my arms. After all, I put this man through, he still loves me.
“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love.” Nico slides the wedding band onto my left ring finger.
I take the wedding band from his hand. “I promise to open my heart to you. Love on you like you deserve to be loved. I’ll be your rock, Nico.” I sniffle.
Gripping his hand, I state, “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love.” I push the wedding band onto his ring finger.
“By the power vested in me in the state of Delaware, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Nico and I grin at each other.
The officiant says, “You may now kiss the bride.”
Nico lifts the veil. His brows lift as he marvels at my face. “You are absolutely breathtaking.”
“Thank you. You are still the most handsome man I’ve ever met.”
Nico blushes. The man actually blushed.
He curls an arm around my waist and cups my face with one hand. My hands press against his muscled chest as I hold his cognac gaze.
“You’re finally all mine,” he growls before crushing my lips. His tongue slips into my mouth, devouring mine.
I moan into our kiss as clapping erupts around us. I quickly remember we’re in front of an audience.
Nico reluctantly ends our kiss. His hand locks on mine, and he turns us to the crowd.
“Mr. And Mrs. Nico Pitucco,” the officiant yells.
I hold up my bouquet, smiling from ear to ear. My childhood sweetheart turned enemy is now my husband. Nico Pitucco never gave up on me.
“Mr. And Mrs. Pitucco,” guests shout as we stroll down the aisle.
I wink at the mafia wives in passing.
