Chapter 24: Overture of Allegiance

MARISOL

The ceremony ended to warm applause from the guests, Dante’s inner circle, his men, and a few others I barely recognized.

He laced his fingers through mine, confident, as we stood beneath the floral arch. The overcast sky draped the garden in a soft glow, like even nature was trying to be gentle with us.

As we turned to walk back down the aisle, the weight of it hit me. We were married. A strange calm moved through me. Not giddy. Not overwhelming. Just a steady sense of rightness. Hopeful, even.

Inside the mansion, soft strains of classical music floated through the air, the notes intertwining with candlelight and the delicate scent of lilies, along with something richer and darker. Maybe gardenias.

The entire room looked like it had been pulled from a dream. Warm, elegant, but not overdone.

Dante’s men filled the round tables, their voices low, their bodies relaxed but never careless. Always alert. Always watching.

Dante stepped to the front of the room. Something shifted. Even the air noticed.

He handed me a glass of champagne and turned to the group.

"Thank you all for being here today," he said, glancing at me. "It means a great deal to me that you are here to witness this moment."

He paused, letting his gaze sweep the room, across the men who’d stood with him through blood and fire.

"Before we enjoy the afternoon's music and food, there’s something you need to understand."

He stepped closer. His hand found the small of my back. Warm. Steady. Possessive.

"Marisol is my wife now. Her safety is your priority, above all else. Even before mine."

My breath snagged mid-inhale. I hadn’t expected him to say that. His words slid beneath my skin, fierce and disarming.

"You serve her now." The softness vanished, replaced by command. "With your lives."

Silence fell. Heavy. Unmistakable.

One by one, they nodded. No hesitation. No doubt.

I stood at his side, heart thudding. The power of it left me reeling.

They were his men, but somehow, now, they were mine too.

A warmth flooded my chest, slow and fierce. He meant it. Every word. He would protect me, and so would they.

Then, as if a page turned, Dante’s tone softened. The corner of his mouth curved.

"Now, enjoy the afternoon's music and food."

From the side, Felix raised his glass with a grin.

"To the bride and groom!"

Laughter rippled through the hush, loosening the last threads of tension, followed by cheers.

I lifted my glass to Dante, and for the first time that day, the knot in my chest eased.

Our glasses clinked softly.

We were about to sit down when Dante turned to me, something gleaming in his eyes.

"We can’t have our wedding without our first dance, can we?"

I blinked.

"Dance? I... I didn’t expect—"

"Just one dance." His smile deepened, playful and sure. "It’s tradition."

The room murmured its approval. Felix adjusted the music without missing a beat.

Dinah Washington’s "What a Difference a Day Makes" slid from the speakers, low and sultry.

Dante shot him a look, and I caught the smirk that followed.

Felix picked this on purpose. Every lyric landed like it was meant for us.

Dante led me to an open space. He didn’t hesitate. His arm swept around me, pulling me in close.

He guided me with a quiet certainty. My body followed his without question, like we’d done this a hundred times.

Every inch of me registered him. His heat. His strength. The steady rhythm of his breathing.

A low hum of tension stretched between us, taut and pulsing.

"You’re an incredibly skilled dancer," I murmured, surprised. "I wasn’t expecting this."

He smirked, tugging me closer. His lips brushed my ear.

"I’m a man of many talents."

God. The way he said it. My pulse stuttered.

The music wrapped around us, blurring the edges of the room. He reached for me again, slower this time, anchoring me to him.

Heat bled through the thin silk of my dress. Too close. Not close enough.

The dark spice of his cologne filled my lungs, muddled my thoughts.

I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Didn’t want to.

"You know what they say about those who can lead on the dance floor," he murmured, voice wicked. His breath skimmed my skin. 

"They can guide you into far more... intimate pleasures. The kind that will leave you trembling and wanting."

Heat flushed through me, fast and blinding. My whole body went tight.

My face burned.

I was unraveling, and he knew it.

He saw how new this was for me, how fast I could come undone under his touch.

But I wasn’t breaking. Not this time.

I leaned in, daring him to keep going. I wanted more. I wasn’t afraid to take it.

I swallowed hard, chasing control.

He held my gaze, unflinching. Like he could read every thought flickering across my face.

And maybe he could.

It scared me how much I wanted to trust him. To let go.

A shiver slipped down my spine as his grip tightened.

This wasn’t about dancing anymore. This was a warning. A promise. A test.

And I couldn’t tell if I was passing or failing.

The song faded. Applause rose around us.

He didn’t let go right away. Just one beat longer.

Long enough to remind me exactly who held the reins.

Back at the table, I sank into my seat, champagne in hand, pulse still racing.

The rest of lunch passed in a blur of conversation and smiles.

One by one, Dante’s men came forward. Each one bowed his head.

Each vow landed like a stone in my chest. Not quite fear, but heavier than gratitude.

They meant it. Every one of them.

I wasn’t just accepted. I belonged.

I scanned the room.

This wasn’t a reception. It was a declaration. A shift in the world as I knew it.

I’d stepped into Dante’s life, and somehow, it had wrapped itself around me.

For the first time since agreeing to this marriage, something real stirred inside me.

Hope.

But when I looked at Dante, that hope twisted into something deeper. Something harder to name.

His gaze never stopped moving. His hand hovered close to mine. Focused. Guarded.

He was letting me in.

And he knew exactly what that cost.

Across the room, Felix stood at the edge of the crowd.

That familiar edge of mockery had vanished. What remained was something... watchful.

He watched Dante like he was seeing him for the first time.

Then he moved. Swagger sliding back into place, glass in hand.

"Well, seeing as the groom already got his turn," Felix said with a bow that didn’t quite hide the mischief, "mind if I steal the bride for a dance?"

Dante arched a brow. His gaze pinned me.

I gave a small nod. He stepped back. Slow. Reluctant.

Felix extended his hand.

"Don’t worry. I promise to return you mostly unscathed."

I laughed and let him lead me to the open space. His grip was steady. Confident. But not demanding.

It wasn’t like Dante. With Dante, every movement was a claim.

With Felix, there was room to breathe.

For a few minutes, we danced. No pressure. No stakes. Just... a pause.

And maybe I needed that. A small reminder of who I was before all this.

"Who would’ve thought?" He grinned, easing back just enough to meet my gaze. "The woman who nearly crushed my balls is the one who melted his heart."

I looked away.

"There're no feelings involved. He did it to protect me."

Felix smirked.

"Right. Keep telling yourself that."

I opened my mouth. But the lie stuck. Bitter. Sharp.

No feelings?

The words tasted like ash.

Who the hell was I trying to convince?

Him, or the girl, still hoping this wasn’t real?