The Mafia Princess’s New Groom Chapter 03
That morning, the best makeup artists in the city got me ready. I looked flawless.
I rode to Crescent Hill Manor alone in the wedding car.
I was calm and composed.
Red velvet draped the venue floor to ceiling.
A massive screen by the entrance scrolled through photos of Vincent and me.
Luxury cars lined the drive all the way down the hill, bumper to bumper, all the way to the foot of the hill.
Every guest saw me standing at the door alone.
They all played dumb, with smiles and handshakes.
The usual pleasantries.
Word travels fast in high society.
Last night’s mess was already common knowledge.
They tried to be discreet. But whispers still reached me.
“The groom’s not here yet. This wedding might be dead in the water.”
“Miss Mancini’s trying to force Vincent’s hand. The Don’s own daughter, fighting over a man with a maid. Pathetic.”
“She brought it on herself, honestly.”
I kept my smile and greeted every guest like I hadn’t heard a thing.
Just before noon, right as the ceremony was about to begin, the doors creaked open.
Vincent walked in wearing his groom’s suit. Sophia was on his arm. She was wearing a white wedding gown.
A stranger walking in would have thought it was their wedding.
Vincent wore a soft smile. He walked Sophia up to the altar, slow and easy.
“Isabella. A wedding is just a formality. You don’t mind Sophia being here, do you?”
Sophia’s voice followed, gentle as always. “I just loved the dress so much. I only wanted to try it on. If it bothers you, I’ll go change right now.”
Her eyes told a different story. A quick flash of a dare. ‘Go on, Isabella. Tell me to take it off. If I can’t wear this dress today, you don’t get to marry Vincent either.’
I stared at Vincent.
For a moment I genuinely wondered if he had lost his mind. He brought his mistress to our wedding in a bridal gown and was asking her to join the ceremony.
The shock faded fast. My face settled.
“Not at all. It’s a celebration. The more the merrier.”
The crowd went wild.
“Has she lost her mind? She agreed to a three-person wedding?”
“A disgrace to the Mancini name. Is she really that desperate to get married?”
“Maybe she’s pregnant too. Only explanation.”
Vincent’s face glowed with satisfaction.
“Good. At least you know how to be reasonable.”
He raised a hand and signaled the officiant to begin.
The music started. Vincent took Sophia’s hand and stood before her.
The officiant cleared his throat. His voice came out stiff and uneasy.
“Vincent Mancini, do you take Isabella to be your lawfully wedded wife? In sickness and in health, for better or for worse, till death do you part?”
“I do.”
His voice was warm. Tender, even.
He lifted the ring from the velvet box and slid it onto Sophia’s finger.
Gasps swept through the room. Then he turned to me, pulled a smaller ring from his pocket, and reached for my hand.
“Isabella, you’ve got more jewelry than you know what to do with. Let Sophia have the wedding band. I got you a new one.”
“She doesn’t want your ring.”
I was about to knock his hand away when the doors blew open. Dominic stood in the doorway. He wore a white suit and a red tie.
He crossed the room in three long strides, stepped up to the altar, and dropped to one knee.
A blood-red ruby the size of a thumbnail blazed between his fingers.
“Isabella. Will you marry me?”