Chapter 9 - A PROMISE IN GOLD
The wedding took place on a private estate in Capri, Italy, far away from the courts, the tabloids, and the shadow of New York crime.
It was not a massive mob spectacle. There were no hundreds of line-item guests or political figures present. Only thirty people sat on the white terrace overlooking the brilliant blue expanse of the Tyrrhenian Sea: Rosa, radiant looking in a silver silk gown; Marco, wearing a tuxedo that looked slightly too tight for his broad shoulders; Clara's closest friends from the clinic; and a few trusted associates who had proven their loyalty through fire.
Clara walked down the stone path wearing an elegant, simple silk dress with long lace sleeves that gracefully covered the scars on her arms and shoulders. She didn't carry roses; she carried a small bouquet of wildflowers—the kind that grew wild along the rocks of the island.
Dante stood at the altar beneath an archway of olive branches and white bougainvillea. When he saw her walking toward him, the man who had faced down federal lawyers and rival bosses without flinching wiped a single, unashamed tear from his cheek.
When they reached the vows, Dante did not read from a standard book. He took both of her hands in his, looking into her warm brown eyes with a devotion that made the guests hold their breath.
"Clara," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I spent my whole life believing that the world was divided into predators and prey. I built walls of iron and blood to keep myself safe, and in doing so, I built my own prison. Then you came into my house. You took five bullets for a woman who was a stranger to you, not because of duty or money, but because your heart is unable to let another person suffer."
He slid a ring of pure, unadorned gold onto her finger.
"You saved my mother's life in that garage," Dante continued, his eyes shining in the Mediterranean sun. "But in doing so, you saved my soul. I swear to you, for as long as I draw breath, every ounce of power I possess will be used to bring you peace, joy, and safety. You are my home, Clara. You are my only king."
Clara smiled through her tears, squeezing his hands tightly.
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"Dante," she whispered, "I didn't take those bullets to save a mob boss's mother. I took them because I saw a man who couldn't bear to lose the only person he loved. I would take them again tomorrow, if it meant keeping you whole."
When the priest declared them husband and wife, Dante pulled her into his arms and kissed her as the sun began its slow dip below the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant hues of gold, pink, and deep purple.
