Salvatore DiMarco
Sienna took my breath away. She looked breathtaking in that wedding gown. It was not simple; the gown had very few embellishments, which enhanced her quiet beauty. Precious, just like her.
My uncle, Bishop Rossi, is my mother's close cousin. He married us. I could see that Sienna was nervous about saying vows before a priest with such high hierarchy, but as soon as I held her hands, all the hesitation melted away. She is a brave woman. My woman.
I asked her to dance, and only then did the reality sink in. She was my wife, legally, bound in an unbreakable sacramental bond. I couldn´t help it, and when I pressed her against me, I leaned forward and whispered into her ear: “Did I tell you how beautiful you look today, Mrs. DiMarco?”
She looked up, her eyes locking wi
