Chapter Twenty-Two

The next two weeks flew by as preparations for the wedding were finalized. While she was busy with that aspect, Matteo and Rocco were having meetings with the real don of the Romanelli Famiglia. As a good faith gesture, he returned all the money that Pietro had stolen.

She knew Caelian and Seth were still upset with her, but their anger had cooled. Now she stood poised to walk down the aisle and her heart thumped with excitement.

Mauro held out his elbow for her to take, smiling at her. Gianna placed her hand in the crook of his arm, going forth as the wedding march started. People in the pews were standing, watching her make her way down the aisle. Matteo waited for her in front of the priest, looking devastatingly handsome in his black tux. His eyes burned with an intensity that took her breath away, and she tried hard to push away the thought of their upcoming wedding night. She hadn't had sex in three years.

When she arrived at the end of the aisle, she turned to face Mauro who lifted her lace veil. Then he took her hand and placed it in Matteo's outstretched one. She stared into his eyes, heart hammering with emotion.

They kneeled together on the small tuffet placed in front of the priest. He began the mass, all of it conducted in Italian. He droned on about how man was created in God's image, and how woman came from Adam's rib. Before meeting Orianna, Macy had no thoughts about religion or God, but she converted to Catholicism to uphold her transformation into Gianna.

Through the mass, they stood and knelt several times. They received communion and drank some wine. Finally, after an hour, the priest had them recite vows, exchange rings, and then declared them husband and wife. She turned to Matteo and he placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning forward to give her a chaste kiss. Or at least she thought it was supposed to be chaste. As soon as their lips met, electricity zinged through her. Her breath hitched and her heart thumped excitedly in her chest. When the kiss ended, he smiled down at her. Love shining in his dark depths. The guests applauded as Matteo held her hand and the priest announced them husband and wife. The photographer snapped a gazillion pictures. Then it was all over and their limo drove them to the reception dinner.

Over the next half hour, the guests arrived and found their seats. The servers proceeded to deliver food. No expense was spared for the five-course meal. Hors d"oeuvres of lobster stuffed mushrooms, carbonara arancini, and bruschetta with spring vegetables. By the time the main course was served, Gianna was full. Then during the dessert, she and Matteo stood to thank their guests for attending the service.

"It's been an emotional day," she said loudly, smiling at the guests. "Even the cake is in tiers."

It took a moment for everyone to realize the joke, and then laughter erupted. Most of the people she didn't know, but when there was a mafia wedding, everyone from family members to business associates were invited. Pietro sat at the head of the table with them, lording over the reception as if it were a boring session he had to get through. She smiled at him, but he glowered, and she could only imagine he was pissed because it was like watching Violetta marry someone else all over again.

Then everything changed in a heartbeat when the doors were thrown open and Angelo Romanelli walked in, leaning heavily on his cane. Surrounding him were several guards as they continuously scanned for any kind of threat.

"What's he doing here?" Pietro demanded, looking nervous.

Gianna smiled at him. "I invited him. He is family now, is he not?"

All the guests stood and bowed their head toward the elder man in deference. When he finally came to stand in front of her, Matteo joined her and together they sank to one knee. Angelo held out his hand, and she, then Matteo kissed the ring on Angelo's index finger.

"Rise, children," he said, his voice high and thin. This was a man who was very sick. Gianna was afraid he didn't have much time left.

Matteo climbed to his feet and helped her up.

"We are honored you blessed us on our wedding day," Matteo told him.

Angelo smiled and then turned to the guests.

"The old ways are slowly dying," he said, speaking softly. The entire room was dead silent as they listened to him. "And soon, I shall take my place in the ever after. Before I kick the proverbial bucket, I must address an issue that has come to my attention."

He held up his hand and gave a little motion with his index finger. The recording of Pietro's phone discussion played through the speakers in the room, all thanks to Seth's setup. Gianna made sure to watch her new father-in-law, savagely enjoying how the blood drained from his face. When the call ended, Angelo pointed at Pietro.

"Seize him."

The guards reacted quickly, springing over to grab Pietro's arms. Escorting him past the guests. Pietro didn't even struggle.

Angelo smiled at her and took her hand, kissing the back of it. "Your grandfather was a good friend of mine." He leaned closer. "Even if you were adopted."

He winked, and she smiled.

"We're honored you're here," Gianna said softly.

He took her hand and placed it in Matteo's. "He'll be in the special place we talked about. And now, I must go. Enjoy your present."

Everyone stood once more, bowing their heads until Angelo left. Gianna smiled up at Matteo.

"I love you, husband."

Matteo's eyes widened, then he pulled her into his arms and bent her over, kissing her deeply as the guests tapped their wine glasses with the silverware.

****

Pietro Romanelli was tied to a chair. His nose bled, and his eyebrow had split. A bruise had formed on his jaw. For the first time that Gianna could remember, he looked disheveled and dirty.

In contrast, she made sure her clothes were impeccable. She had changed out of her wedding dress into a form fitting silver gown. Her mile high Louboutin's made a satisfying clack on the floor as she walked toward him.

"Who's there?" Pietro demanded.

"Aren't you a sight, doll face?" she asked, giving his words back to him.

"Gianna?"

She walked around him till he was able to see her.

"What's going on?" he demanded. "Untie me."

"You see, my husband doesn't want you anymore, and unfortunately for you, we can't take the chance that you'll go blabbing that pretty mouth of yours." She tapped his cheek with a hand, a cruel twist to her lips resembling a smile. She made sure to put as much malice in her tone as possible.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't you remember? Those were the words you said to me."

His eyes narrowed as he tried to jog a memory with an important piece of the puzzle missing.

"Perhaps this will help you," she said, holding up her hand and letting the aquamarine necklace dangle from her fingers.

Gianna saw the moment recognition struck him, even though he valiantly tried to hide it.

"If that didn't work, maybe my eyes will." She bent forward so the overhead light shown on her face, making sure he saw her ocean blue eyes.

He paled. "You're dead."

She gave a humorless laugh. "Then I must be a ghost."

Pietro recovered quickly. "I don't know what game you're playing, but you better release me."

"Or what? Will I have to pay the price?" She walked around him. "Go ahead, threaten me some more."

"I am the Don of Chicago—"

"Correction," Matteo snarled as he stepped into the light. "You were never the don. You were an underboss acting like the top dog, making me do all your dirty work. Why do you think Angelo gave you to us as a wedding present? You're a traitor to the Romanelli Familiglia."

"You're my son!"

"And she's my wife," Matteo snapped. "My loyalties lie with her, and with the true don, Angelo."

Gianna cocked her head. "Do you think I would come back from the dead without a plan?"

Fear swam through his unblinking gaze. "Let me go, Matteo."

They both ignored his command.

"You never suspected your new daughter-in-law planned to end your life, did you?" She cocked her head. "You've pissed off a lot of people, Pietro."

From the darkness, Caelian came forward. Followed by Mauro and Seth. And then more people stepped from the shadows. Men and women, all victims of Pietro Romanelli. He looked at each one with dawning horror.

"I was the representative of those you wronged," she said calmly, gesturing around. "You acted on your own, furthering your own agenda. Fattening your bank account with stolen money."

He spat at her, but she was far enough away that it didn't touch her. "Fuck you. You're not Violetta's daughter."

"No, but you're the reason why she's dead. Did you think Orianna wouldn't have figured that out?"

"Let me go and I'll go lenient on you."

"Still delusional, I see. That's okay." She backed up. "I thought I'd want my pound of flesh, but I think this is better. It's time for everyone else to have theirs."

Matteo and Gianna moved back into the darkness, allowing the others to vent their anger and vengeance. Pietro's screams were music to her ears, until the last breath left his body and he screamed no more.