The Don Chose Her Eight Times, I Married Another Man

It was almost midnight when Vito got back.

He and Elena had finally finished watching that old movie.

Supposedly, it had been her late parents' favorite.

"Elena feels much better. She says that at our next wedding, she'd love to wear the heroine's pink gown from the movie and be your maid of honor again."

Vito loosened his tie as he came up behind me.

He wrapped his strong arms around my waist and murmured in my ear,

"You're not still mad at her about that little slip-up last time, are you? Ivy, she really didn't lose your ring on purpose."

"Of course not."

I kept my face blank as I packed the folded clothes into a large suitcase, then pushed his arms away.

But he didn't notice anything was wrong.

Just like the previous seven times, he tossed off the same easy promise.

"Ivy, I promise you, this is the last time.

"Next time, I promise I'll give you the grandest wedding there is."

His words couldn't reassure me anymore.

After all, he'd postponed our wedding eight times for his adopted sister, Elena.

The old me might have made him swear a solemn oath.

On the honor of the Colombi family, for instance.

But now all of that seemed meaningless to me.

Elena could come up with a hundred ways to make trouble, and Vito only ever needed one reason to indulge her.

"Ivy, you know Elena's parents were killed while protecting me from a rival family. I have to look after her until she's married. That's the only way I can do right by them."

Whenever he said things like that, he sounded almost drunk.

He kissed my ear and cheek, murmuring sweet nothings.

But none of it moved me anymore.

"Ivy, are you listening to me? You're not still angry, are you?"

Vito frowned.

My silence was making him impatient.

Only then did he seem to notice something was wrong.

I nodded.

"Mm. I heard you."

"Then why are you still packing?"

Vito pressed his hand over mine on the suitcase.

"Come here. Let's pick a new wedding date. I'll have Gabe book the church and the reception again—"

"No need."

I slammed the suitcase shut.

"I've already talked to Jessica. I'm going to stay at her place for a few days."

Vito's hand stiffened, and his expression darkened.

"What's that supposed to mean, Ivy?

"Running off in the middle of the night like this? Do you want to make yourself a sitting duck for our rivals?

"Stop playing hard to get, Ivy."

I knew what he meant. It was both a warning and a jab.

It all went back to our first wedding.

We'd been in the wedding car when Vito received a terrifying message.

Someone claiming to be one of his sworn enemies had sent him a photo of Elena tied up.

Without a word, he pulled off his tuxedo jacket, grabbed his Beretta 92, and left me alone at the church entrance.

I even pointed out the clues:

In the background of the photo, I could make out a poster for Elena's favorite movie.

The threatening message even misspelled common Italian words.

Elena had obviously staged the whole thing.

But Vito said he couldn't take that risk, not even if there was only a one-in-ten-thousand chance that Elena was in danger.

I couldn't begin to imagine how much she meant to him.

That night, I insisted on waiting outside the church for him to come back.

That was where his real enemies found me.

The bullet went straight through my shoulder, and my blood soaked the wedding dress my grandmother had left me.

But when I reached the hospital, I found Vito holding Elena. She kept apologizing and admitted she'd staged the kidnapping because she didn't want to lose him.

He was comforting her like a fluffy little stray, tenderly feeding her dessert.

When he saw me just after surgery, he looked surprised, but there was also a trace of impatience and reproach in his eyes.

"You knew how dangerous it was, Ivy. Why didn't you listen to me and go back to the estate to wait?

"You stood there like a fool in that Christmas tree of a wedding dress. Did you want to make it easy for my enemies to find you?"

In that moment, it felt as though the bullet they'd taken from my shoulder had gone through my heart instead.

I told him I'd expected him to turn right around and finish our wedding the moment he realized Elena hadn't really been kidnapped.

"Don't be silly, Ivy.

"How could I just leave her alone when she's so fragile?

"If she did something that crazy, she must have been at the end of her rope. You have to understand her."

After that, each time he postponed the wedding, his excuse was more absurd than the last.

I cried, fought, fell apart, and even ran away from home.

But this time, Vito really had nothing to worry about.

I picked up my suitcase without hesitating.

"Don't worry. Someone's already waiting outside for me. I care more about my safety than you do."

"Is it Jessica's cousin, the one who just got back from Istanbul?"

Vito looked suspicious, then glanced out the window.

"That guy's still alive? I guess running guns through Eastern Europe has made him a fortune."

"Maybe."

I pulled up the suitcase handle and headed for the door.

"Oh, it's the 11th of next month," Vito said, glancing at his phone.

His phone had buzzed with a message from his second-in-command, Gabe Santoro. Vito continued,

"It's all arranged. We'll hold the wedding again that day."

For a moment, I was lost in thought.

What a coincidence.

My wedding to Jessica's cousin, Luciano Falconi, was also set for the 11th of next month. That day, I'd marry into the Falconi family.

Just hours earlier, Vito had postponed our wedding for the eighth time to take Elena to some so-called special screening.

And I'd taken off the emerald ring that symbolized the Colombi family's authority and accepted Luciano's ruby engagement ring.