Exposed to the CEO Behind the Mafia Mask

Chapter 397: Chapter 181 Claiming His Bride

Dominic’s POV

Gemma was absolutely breathtaking, standing before me at the altar of the heavily guarded cathedral. Every armed sentinel positioned throughout the pews faded into irrelevance as I found myself completely captivated by her radiance. The priest’s Latin blessings and the justice of peace’s formal words became distant background noise. Nothing in my violent world had ever commanded my attention like she did in this moment.

I had personally orchestrated for her grandmother to carry our rings down the aisle, and witnessing Gemma’s emotional reaction confirmed it was the perfect tactical decision. The bond between those two women runs deeper than blood, and using her grandparents’ rings to seal our mafia union made the gesture even more sacred. Watching her grandmother approach with those treasured symbols of our blood oath was exactly the touching moment I had envisioned.

When the priest pronounced us husband and wife under the protection of the Thorne family and gave me permission to kiss my bride, I couldn’t suppress the victorious smile that spread across my face. I pulled my new wife close by her waist and claimed her lips in a kiss that conveyed every ounce of possessive love I felt for her, sealing our bond before God and the family.

The reception at the heavily fortified beachfront estate was elegant perfection. The manicured lawn had been transformed with round tables draped in pristine white linens, each adorned with flower arrangements that matched those from the ceremony. Wooden chairs surrounded each table, creating an atmosphere both sophisticated and comfortable, while discrete security teams maintained vigilant watch from the perimeter. A stage with a dance floor became the center of attention as Gemma and I shared our first dance as a married couple before taking turns dancing with our family members.

The endless procession of greetings and photographs with guests, many of whom were high-ranking family associates, began to wear on my patience. After enduring what felt like hours of diplomatic pleasantries, I needed a private moment with her, so I pulled Gemma away from the crowd of well-wishers and bodyguards.

”My goddess,” I whispered against her neck, leaving a trail of kisses along her soft skin. ”I’m dying to get you out of this dress.” Her melodic laughter was music to my ears.

”Are you seriously trying to convince me to abandon our own reception?” she teased, though I detected genuine interest beneath her playful tone.

”Absolutely,” I admitted without shame, continuing my campaign of persuasion with more deliberate kisses along her neck.

”What took you so long to ask?” Gemma’s suddenly serious tone made me pause and study her face intently.

”I’m sorry, what?” I asked, genuinely confused by the shift in her demeanor.

”My handsome husband, I would have left right after the ceremony concluded. I’m desperate to discover what surprise you’ve arranged for our wedding night.” Her eyes sparkled with anticipation and desire. ”I just need to throw my bouquet first.”

”What surprise?” I kept my expression deliberately neutral, watching her face fall with practiced amusement.

”Are you telling me that you, the undisputed master of grand romantic gestures, didn’t plan anything special for tonight?” She stepped back, hands planted firmly on her hips in a stance that reminded me why I fell for her fierce spirit.

”No!” I maintained my serious facade with effort. ”Should I have?”

”You know what, Dominic? I’m staying at this party until dawn now,” she declared before turning to storm off across the lawn.

I couldn’t hold back my satisfied smile as I watched her marching away in righteous indignation. My stubborn, beautiful wife had no idea what awaited her. When she was halfway across the manicured grass, I caught up to her, grabbed her arm, and in one swift motion that would have made my old combat instructors proud, hoisted her over my shoulder like a conquering warrior. Our guests, including several dangerous men who rarely smiled, erupted in genuine laughter as I carried her through the crowd.

She pounded her fists against my back in protest, but I held her securely, one hand firmly securing her legs against my chest while maintaining perfect balance.

”Dominic, put me down this instant,” she demanded, her voice carrying both frustration and barely suppressed amusement.

”Not happening. We’re departing for our honeymoon immediately,” I replied with mock authority.

”Dominic, I still need to throw the bouquet... Dominic... release me...” she continued her protests, though I noticed she wasn’t struggling as hard as she could.

I turned toward where my lieutenant’s wife Nadia and intelligence coordinator Zoe were stationed near the security checkpoint. ”Where’s the bouquet?”

Immediately, Zoe materialized with the floral arrangement and placed it in Gemma’s hands, then turned to address our assembled guests with military precision.

”Ladies, attention please! The bride is throwing her bouquet! Anyone interested in participating better move quickly because the groom is clearly running out of patience!” Her announcement drew appreciative laughter from the guests as women hurriedly gathered in formation before us.

”Alright, Gemma, proceed with the toss,” I instructed with feigned impatience.

She blinked in confusion. ”Dominic, put me down so I can throw it properly.”

”Absolutely not. Throw it now or it’s accompanying us on our honeymoon.” After a moment’s hesitation, she sighed in resignation.

”Fine.” She struggled to lift her upper body, using her free hand to brace herself against my back, and launched the bouquet into the air.

I watched with curious interest. Bouquet tosses at weddings always created mild tension among the single women, with participants sometimes engaging in surprisingly competitive behavior for the floral prize. However, something unexpected happened with Gemma’s bouquet – it sailed cleanly through the air and remained completely intact upon landing.

”Who caught it?” Gemma asked eagerly from her position over my shoulder. ”Let me see, Dominic!”

I observed the outcome with genuine curiosity, wondering if there was any validity to the old tradition claiming that whoever caught the bouquet would be the next to marry.

”Actually, I think ’received’ describes it more accurately than ’caught’ – it landed directly in someone’s lap who wasn’t even participating in the competition,” I explained, still studying the amusing scene.

”Let me see!” Gemma demanded with growing impatience.

I pivoted so she could observe that the bouquet had landed squarely in my mother Bee’s lap. She was seated at the family table beside Andrew, my mother’s longtime companion, and they were sharing a meaningful smile that suggested the bouquet had revealed a secret understanding between them.

”Oh my God! That’s absolutely perfect! Bee received my bouquet!” Gemma clapped excitedly, her earlier irritation completely forgotten in her delight.

”Now we’re leaving. I want my honeymoon,” I declared in my best possessive tone, making my bride laugh as I carried her away from our celebration and toward whatever private paradise I had prepared for us.