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‘He won’t,’ I said, trying to tug my fingers free.

But she held on tight. ‘I know you think that now. But just in case, I want you to know that I’ll always be here to support you. And if you need us to, Vito and I will get the marriage annulled. No questions asked.’

I wanted to insist that wouldn’t happen. That I had confidence in this decision. But I swallowed down my frustration with her lack of faith in me, so we could start to enjoy my wedding day. ‘Sure, Mia.’

She smiled, the emotion in her eyes making me realise how hard it was for her to accept I wasn’t her baby sister any more, but a woman in my own right.

‘Thank you, Evie.’ She drew me close and hugged me tight. Then whispered in my ear, ‘Dante is not going to know what hit him when he sees you in that dress…’

I grinned, my heartbeat battering my throat, the excitement cresting on a wave of validation. And heat, at the thought of finally seeing Dante again. Especially as I did look fabulous in this gown. Mia was not wrong.

‘I know, right,’ I whispered as she forced a smile to her lips.

Maybe Mia didn’t believe in this marriage yet. But I did, because I was going to do everything in my power to make it work.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Dante

I entered the chapel on Isla Donna with Matteo and Umberto—my consigliere and my underboss—wearing the black tux I had donned to seal the deal between Vito and me. My brows lifted as I strolled down the aisle with my men to the altar, surprised to discover the old church on the edge of Vito’s property had been lavishly decorated for the wedding.

My wedding.

Fairy lights and ribbons and bouquets of winter blooms had been draped over the eaves and arranged on the altar, where the priest was waiting. The chapel’s old wooden pews were filled with my people and Vito’s—the ceremony and the lavish celebration planned for afterwards a way to introduce the warring factions to each other and get them to embrace our new joint enterprise.

Umberto had informed me on the journey here that the chapel had been renovated especially for the ceremony, which made me uneasy. Why? When this wedding was primarily just a means to establish trust between our two families.

At least that was how I had framed this day, ever since I had received word that Eva had agreed to our union.

But if this marriage was a formality, why had my stomach felt weightless these past weeks without her—and the hunger in my groin become a pain I could not alleviate, because I wanted no other woman in my bed but her? And why was my pulse accelerating at the prospect of seeing Eva again and making her mine—officially?

Vito strode down the aisle to greet me. He held a bundle of blankets to his chest. I tensed as he got closer and a tiny fist appeared from the nest.

His son.

‘Welcome, Dante,’ he said, before nodding a curt greeting to my consigliere and my underboss. ‘I thought you might want to meet your nephew while we wait for your bride,’ he added, as if we were brothers. Friends, even.

I frowned. But couldn’t help staring at the tiny face when he lifted the bundle to display the child. The small but perfect features were scrunched in frustration as the baby tried to stuff his entire fist into his mouth.

‘Why is he trying to eat his own hand?’ I asked, captivated despite myself, the strange weightlessness sinking into my stomach like a stone.

Vito let out a rough chuckle. ‘It is a poor substitute for his mother’s breast. When he realises it will not produce milk, he will not be happy.’

I lifted a finger to ease the blanket aside and get a better look at the child. My large hand, covered in tattoos, looked threatening against the tiny face, but Vito did not object. My knuckle brushed the petal-soft skin and the baby’s head lurched round so he could suck on my finger.

‘Be careful,’ Vito said. ‘Once he latches on, he will not let go. Just ask his mother.’

I withdrew my hand. But had to bite the inside of my mouth to control a smile.

‘What is his name?’ I asked, despite my intention to remain aloof.

‘Luca,’ Vito said, his pride unmistakable.

An ache formed behind my ribs as I stared at the baby. So helpless and defenceless. And the way his father held him so securely. I swallowed down the vicious ache which had risen into my throat, reminded again of how our father had discarded me.

‘Do you wish to hold him?’ Vito asked.

My gaze rose to his, astonished he would trust me with his son.