The wedding was only a week away, yet the world around them seemed to have slowed to a tender heartbeat. Every day felt like a string of stolen moments stitched together with laughter, soft touches, and a love that no longer needed to hide behind sharp edges. Aria found herself smiling at nothing and everything at the same time, at the way the morning light filtered into their room, at the scent of Luca’s cologne lingering on the sheets, and at the way his voice sounded when he said her name like it was the most sacred word he knew. They were sitting together on the veranda of their villa, overlooking the Tuscan hills that rolled like waves beneath a golden sunset. The wedding planner had just left, and the long table was still scattered with swatches of fabric, flower samples, and handwritten notes. Luca leaned back in his chair, sleeves rolled to his elbows, a glass of red wine cradled lazily in his hand. Aria was curled up across from him, barefoot, a pencil tucked behind her ear as she scribbled in her small leather notebook. "What are you writing?" Luca asked, eyes soft but curious. Aria looked up, cheeks warming. "Vows," she admitted quietly. "Trying to, at least." "Ah," he said, his lips curling into a grin. "So I should be jealous you’re giving your heart away on paper before I even get to hear it?" She laughed, tossing a balled-up piece of paper at him. "If it helps, it’s not going very well. Everything I write either sounds too dramatic or too small." "Aria," he murmured, his voice dipping into that deep, intimate register that always made her pulse skip, "you could stand in front of everyone and just say ’I love you,’ and it would still bring me to my knees." Her heart thudded. She ducked her head, biting back a shy smile. "You make it sound so easy." "It is easy. Because it’s real." He set his glass down and reached across the table, curling his fingers under her chin until she met his gaze. "Say the first thing that comes to your mind right now. Don’t think. Just feel." She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip, then exhaled softly. "I think I think you changed my definition of home," she whispered. "I didn’t even know I was missing it until you were there, until you made everywhere feel like it." Luca’s eyes darkened, emotion flickering there like a storm held at bay. "Then that’s it," he said gently. "That’s your vow. The rest is just words." Aria’s throat tightened. "You make it sound like you already wrote yours." "Maybe I have," he teased, leaning closer. "Or maybe I’m saving them to see if I can make you cry." She rolled her eyes and laughed, swatting at him. "You’re terrible." "Terrible for you," he corrected, catching her wrist and tugging her gently into his lap. She let out a small yelp of surprise, but the sound dissolved into breathless laughter as his arms wrapped around her waist. The air shifted, deepened. They sat there, foreheads resting together, the fading light painting them in gold. Luca brushed his thumb over her cheekbone, tracing the smile lines that had become more frequent these past few months. "Do you know what I’m most excited about?" he murmured. "Hmm?" she hummed, playing with the buttons of his shirt. "That moment at the altar. The one where everyone disappears and it’s just us. You in white, me barely holding it together. And I get to promise you forever." Her chest constricted with something achingly beautiful. "I think I might cry before I even get there." "Then I’ll kiss the tears before they fall," he whispered, pressing his lips to the corner of her eye. They stayed like that for a long time, no rush, no noise, just the quiet certainty of two people who had walked through fire and come out holding hands. Later that evening, they found themselves sprawled across the living room floor surrounded by half-finished decorations and lists. The wedding had become a project they tackled together, and even Luca, once so aloof and focused on his empire, now argued passionately about cake flavors and string light arrangements. "I’m telling you, the pistachio layer is non-negotiable," he insisted, gesturing dramatically at the sample cakes on the coffee table. Aria snorted. "You don’t even like pistachio." "No, but you do," he said simply. "And this day is about you too." Her heart softened again, it did that a lot these days. "Okay, pistachio stays," she agreed, leaning over to kiss his cheek. "But then we’re having the chocolate hazelnut layer too." It was silly and sweet and so far from the lives they had once led, she, the sheltered pawn of powerful families, and he, the feared Don whose name was spoken in whispers. Now they were just two people planning a future. And somehow, that felt more powerful than anything. Follow current novᴇls on 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡•𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮•𝕟𝕖𝕥 Later that night, Aria found herself unable to sleep. The house was quiet, the moonlight spilling pale silver across the bed. Luca was already asleep beside her, one arm draped over her waist in a protective hold even in his dreams. She turned slightly, studying his face, the hard angles softened in rest, the faint shadow of a smile tugging at his lips. It still amazed her, sometimes, how much they had changed each other. Luca had once been all sharp edges and cold logic, his heart locked away behind iron walls. But now he was this tender, protective, achingly human. And she had changed too. Gone was the frightened girl who had flinched at the mention of his name. In her place was someone who could look at this man and see not just danger and power, but warmth, devotion, and love. "Luca," she whispered into the quiet, though he was too deeply asleep to hear. "I love you. I think I always will." The night held the confession like a secret blessing. The next day brought chaos in the best possible way. Their families began to arrive, some from distant cities, others from just across town. The villa buzzed with life, the courtyard alive with chatter and laughter. Even the men who had once been Luca’s coldest soldiers now carried boxes of decorations and argued about centerpieces. Aria’s heart swelled watching it all. This wasn’t just a wedding. It was healing. It was proof that peace, even for people like them, was possible. That afternoon, she caught Luca standing alone by the fountain, his hands shoved in his pockets, gaze distant. She approached quietly, slipping her hand into his. "Thinking?" she asked. "Always," he murmured, then glanced down at her with a small smile. "Mostly about how a man like me ended up lucky enough to marry you." Her chest fluttered. "I think we both got lucky." He leaned down and kissed her, slow and reverent. "Aria I know we’re planning a wedding, but I want you to know something. My promise isn’t just for that day. It’s for every day after. I will choose you. Again and again. Even when it’s hard. Even when the world tries to tear us apart. I’ll still choose you." Tears burned at the back of her eyes, and she pressed her forehead to his. "And I’ll choose you, even when you drive me insane arguing about cake flavors." "Especially then," he chuckled. They stood there, wrapped in the kind of silence that spoke louder than words, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt right. Not perfect, perfection wasn’t real, but right. They had bled and broken and healed their way here, and now the finish line was just ahead. The days leading up to the wedding blurred into a whirlwind of final preparations. Aria’s dress, a delicate cascade of lace and silk, hung in the guest room, catching the light like a promise. Luca spent mornings coordinating with vendors, his commanding presence softened by the warmth in his eyes whenever Aria entered the room. They stole quiet moments amidst the chaos, a shared glance during a tasting, and a quick dance in the kitchen to a song only they could hear. Each moment wove them closer, building a tapestry of trust and love that felt unshakable. Their families, once divided by old grudges, now worked side by side, stringing fairy lights and folding napkins, united by the couple’s joy. A week from now, she would walk down the aisle and stand before the man who had once been her enemy, the man who now held her entire heart. And when she did, she would speak vows born not just from love, but from everything they had survived to reach this point. Aria closed her eyes and let the warmth of his presence sink into her bones. Whatever storms lay ahead, they would face them together. Because this was what love had built: not a fairytale, not a fragile dream, but something strong and unbreakable. And as the sun dipped low over the horizon, painting the sky in shades of fire and gold, Aria knew one thing with absolute certainty, this wasn’t just the beginning of a wedding. It was the beginning of forever.