On the drive to the city, I scrolled back through the group chat.The wedding preparations had apparently started a month ago, roughly when Julian and I had last seen each other.The thread was wall-to-wall flattery and showing off."Selena, is that gown really from a Milan designer? It's stunning!""The groom has such a presence. He really does look like a Don."I almost laughed. Julian had a decent face, but his presence was nothing special. He was a second son who'd climbed up on my family's coattails.Three years ago, our family needed to open up a freight corridor. Sandro had looked at a dozen small crews and landed on the Moretti. The eldest son was already married, so they sent their second boy, Julian, as the offering.The first time I met him, he'd shaved clean, wore a faint hint of cedarwood cologne, and had a face that was, genuinely, very good.He'd arranged 999 fresh tulips flown in from Holland, plus a sapphire necklace, the very symbol of a Donna. Not even the eldest bro
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