The devil's vow

Chapter 20

Isabella arrived unannounced two weeks later, breezing into the estate with the same unbothered confidence she'd always carried and immediately taking charge of what she deemed "criminally underplanned" wedding preparations.

"You cannot get married with no flowers, Elena. That's not a ceremony. That's a legal formality with nice lighting."

She was already pulling out her phone, scrolling through a folder she'd clearly been compiling since the moment Elena had called her with the news.

"I've been saving ideas for years, honestly. I never thought I'd actually get to use them for your wedding, given how the first one went."

"This one's smaller," Elena reminded her, settling into the nursery's rocking chair, the one piece of furniture that had actually been finished so far. She rested a hand over the now unmistakable curve of her stomach. "Just us, really. You, some of Dante's relatives whom he actually likes, and my father. Nothing like the first one."

"Small doesn't mean plain."

Isabella held up her phone, displaying an array of soft, warm florals that were nothing like the stiff white arrangements from the original wedding.

"These. Wildflowers, mostly. Something that actually looks like it grew somewhere instead of being flown in from six countries for the sake of appearances."

Elena studied the images, something warm settling in her chest at how different they felt from the memory of her actual wedding day. They were beautiful in a way that felt earned rather than performed.

"That's perfect, actually."

"I know. I have excellent taste."

Isabella sat on the edge of the bed, her expression becoming more serious.

"How are you feeling? Really. About all of it. The wedding, the baby, everything that's happened this year."

Elena considered the question honestly, resting both hands over her stomach. She could feel the small, steady flutter of movement that had become more noticeable over the last week.

"Happy," she said finally, a little surprised by how easily the word came. "Genuinely, completely happy, in a way I don't think I let myself imagine was possible a year ago. I keep waiting for something to go wrong, honestly. It's strange, trusting that it might not."

"You've earned the right to trust it," Isabella said gently. "You survived more this year than most people survive in a lifetime. You're allowed to actually enjoy what comes next."

Dante found them there a while later, pausing in the doorway to watch the two of them bent over Isabella's phone, laughing about a wildflower arrangement neither of them could entirely agree on.

"Am I interrupting wedding planning?" he asked, leaning against the frame with unmistakable fondness.

"You are absolutely not invited to this part," Isabella said without looking up. "Grooms don't get opinions on flowers. It's a rule."

"Duly noted."

He crossed the room anyway, settling on the arm of Elena's chair and resting a hand gently over hers on her stomach.

"How's our daughter today?"

"Restless," Elena said, smiling. "She's been kicking all morning. I think she already has your stubbornness."

"Our daughter," Isabella repeated, delighted. "You found out the gender and didn't tell me first?"

"We found out this morning," Dante said, something quietly proud settling into his expression. "A girl."

"A girl," Isabella said, already reaching for her phone again with renewed enthusiasm. "Well, that changes several of these color choices entirely."

Elena laughed, leaning into Dante's side as she watched her cousin dive back into wedding logistics with characteristic energy.

"I think we've officially lost control of both the guest list and the flowers," she murmured.

"I don't mind," Dante said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "As long as I get you at the end of it, properly, with vows that are actually ours, I don't much care what the flowers look like."

"Careful," Elena teased. "Isabella will hear you disrespecting her flower arrangements."

"I heard that," Isabella said without looking up.

Both Elena and Dante laughed, the warm, easy sound filling a room that had once, not so very long ago, felt like anything but a home.

That evening, once Isabella had finally gone and the estate had settled into quiet, Elena found herself standing before the mirror in their room, studying the changed shape of herself. She was fuller now, softer in some places, and undeniably marked by the life growing inside her.

Dante came up behind her, resting his hands gently over her stomach and meeting her eyes in the mirror's reflection.

"You keep looking at yourself like you're waiting to find something wrong," he said quietly. "There isn't anything wrong, Elena. You've never been more beautiful to me than you are right now."

"It's strange," she admitted, leaning back into him. "Learning to see myself the way you see me instead of the way I was taught to see myself my whole life. Something soft. Something worth protecting rather than something capable."

"You're both," he said simply, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You've always been both. I don't think either of us fully understood, when we started this, how much we'd end up needing exactly that combination in each other."

She turned in his arms to face him properly, taking in the sight of him. Steady, unguarded, entirely hers in a way she still sometimes couldn't quite believe.

"I love you," she said. "More every day, if that's even possible."

"It's entirely possible," he said, kissing her softly. "I intend to prove that theory correct for the rest of our lives."