Chapter 6
You haven't truly experienced New York until your impromptu bachelorette party involves a private, ultra-exclusive jazz club in Greenwich Village,
guarded by four men in tactical suits carrying earpieces while your younger sister Chloe—who flew in secretly from Ohio—slams mocktails with high-society heiresses and underworld capos.
Ethan had insisted on hosting a private celebration to mark the official restructuring of Romano Logistics and the final neutralization of the syndicate threat.
Surrounded by dim red lighting, sultry saxophone music, and endless laughter, I sat in a plush leather booth wearing a stunning emerald silk slip dress, laughing until my ribs ached.
Across the table, Chloe grinned mischievously, holding up her glass.
"To my big sister—who everyone in Ohio thought was killed in a fiery river explosion, but is actually secretly engaged to the most terrifying, gorgeous billionaire in Manhattan!"
A chorus of laughter and cheers erupted from our table, drawing amused glances from the club patrons.
The heavy velvet curtains at the entrance parted, and Ethan walked into the dimly lit lounge. He wasn't supposed to show up until midnight—tradition dictated the groom give the bride space—but looking at the slight tension in his shoulders, I knew he couldn't stay away.
The moment he stepped into the room, the atmosphere shifted. All eyes turned toward him, but Ethan didn't look at the crowd or the upscale venue.
His gray eyes locked immediately onto me. He walked straight through the lounge, ignoring the whispers and respectful nods from his associates, and stopped right in front of our booth. "You're violating groom protocol, Mr. Romano,"
I teased, taking a sip of my drink with a radiant smile. "You're not supposed to see the bride before the wedding day."
"Protocol be damned," Ethan murmured, his voice low and husky as he reached out, taking my hand and pulling me up out of the booth into his arms.
"I missed you." Chloe rolled her eyes affectionately, raising her glass.
"Go on, take her! Before you two turn my innocent family dinner into a romance novel!" Cheers erupted from the table as Ethan scooped me up effortlessly into his arms, carrying me out of the jazz club toward his waiting limousine.
As the cool New York night air hit my face, I buried my face in his neck, knowing that no matter what storms lay ahead, I was exactly where I belonged.
The snow fell in thick, silent flakes outside the massive stained-glass windows of St. Patrick’s Cathedral in Manhattan, turning Fifth Avenue into a postcard-perfect winter wonderland.
Inside, the grand sanctuary glowed with the warm, amber light of three thousand candles, reflecting off towering arrangements of white roses, silver-dusted branches, and cascading crystal ornaments.
Standing in the private holding room behind the altar, I stared at my reflection in the full-length mirror.
The wedding gown was an absolute masterpiece—ivory Chantilly lace, long sheer sleeves embroidered with delicate silver thread, and a sweeping cathedral-length veil that trailed behind me like spun moonlight.
Resting on my left ring finger was the vintage diamond ring Ethan had given me, paired now with a matching platinum band encrusted with rare pink diamonds.
There was a soft knock at the door, and Ethan’s loyal head of security, Marcus, stepped inside. He offered a respectful, warm smile. "Mr. Romano is waiting at the altar, Ms. Parker," Marcus said softly. "And the church is completely secured. No uninvited guests."
"Thank you, Marcus," I said, taking a deep, shuddering breath to steady my racing pulse.
When the heavy oak doors of the cathedral swung open and the grand organ began playing the opening notes of the bridal march, the collective intake of breath from four hundred distinguished guests echoed softly through the vaulted ceilings.
At the far end of the long aisle stood Ethan. He wore a tailored black tuxedo that fit his broad shoulders to perfection. His dark hair was neatly brushed, and his rugged, handsome face was completely stripped of its usual stoic armor.
As his gray eyes locked onto mine walking down the aisle, I saw the exact moment his breath caught.
The entire world seemed to fade away—the politicians, the corporate titans, the syndicate capos, the security guards stationed discreetly near the exits.
There was only Ethan, watching me approach as if I were the only light in his entire universe.
When I finally reached the altar, Ethan stepped forward, taking my trembling hands in his large, warm palms. His touch grounded me instantly.
"You look breathtaking," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion for only me to hear. "And you clean up remarkably well for a mafia boss, Mr. Romano," I whispered back, a radiant smile breaking across my face.
As the priest began the ceremony, reading traditional vows of love, loyalty, and protection through sickness and health, I knew our vows carried a weight far heavier than most couples ever experienced.
We had met in a mansion during a brutal storm, bound by a fake engagement forged in survival and deception.
May you like
Now, standing before God, our families, and the city we had conquered together, our love was the most undeniable truth in the world.
When the priest finally pronounced us husband and wife and Ethan pulled back my veil to claim my lips in a deep, passionate, soul-shaking kiss, the entire cathedral erupted into thunderous applause. We weren't just surviving anymore. We had won.
