In love with my step dad

Chapter 8

The world looked too calm for what I was about to do.

The sky, wide enough to mock the chaos beneath my composed exterior. The sea breeze carried the scent of roses, Millia’s favorite and somewhere in the distance, violins played an elegant tune for a ceremony that should have felt sacred.

But nothing about this felt sacred. It felt like penance.

I stood at the altar, watching guests gather among the manicured hedges and glass chandeliers suspended above the garden. The setting was exquisite, white roses wound through ivory arches, champagne light pouring through the crystal canopy overhead. The garden glowed, reflecting the kind of beauty people wrote about in magazines.

And yet, my chest felt hollow.

I straightened the cuff of my tuxedo, more to occupy my trembling fingers than out of vanity. Millia had gone to great lengths to make this day perfect. She wanted grace, not grandeur; subtle elegance, not spectacle. Even now, she managed to orchestrate perfection right down to the blush pink roses lining the aisle, her soft rebellion against the mafia world’s cold formality.

She deserved peace. And this marriage, no matter how hollow it might feel to me, was my way of giving her that.

Then I saw her.

Aria.

She walked down the aisle not as the bride, but as the daughter of one. Dressed in pale blue silk that caught the light like water, she was the only color in a monochrome world. Her hair flowed freely down her back, simple but mesmerizing. The air shifted around her, like even nature hesitated to compete with her quiet beauty.

And when her eyes met mine… everything else blurred.

I tried to look away, but her gaze anchored me. It wasn’t longing not exactly. It was worse. It was understanding. The kind of understanding that stripped me bare. She knew this wedding wasn’t built on love. She knew it was a transaction, but she doesn’t know what’s the deal.

But she didn’t know that I was marrying her mother for her, not even Millia knows.

That every lie I spoke today, every vow I made, was meant to protect the one woman I could never have.

The music swelled as Millia appeared, radiant in ivory silk that floated around her like mist. She was breathtaking and graceful, poised, her beauty timeless. Her arm rested lightly in Aria’s as they walked toward me. The crowd turned in admiration, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.

Aria’s hand lingered on her mother’s arm a little too long before she stepped aside, her expression serene. But when Millia reached me, and I took her hands in mine, I saw a flicker of emotion cross Aria’s face a fragile, fleeting thing. Not jealousy. Not anger. Something more complex. Something she was trying hard to bury.

I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t.

The priest began the ceremony. His voice was distant, words dissolving into the background hum of the sea. My focus drifted to Millia’s trembling hands, to the warmth of her fragile skin, to the way her eyes glimmered when she looked at me. She knew. She knew this was an arrangement. She knew my heart belonged somewhere else, even if I’d never dared to say it aloud.

And still, she smiled.

Because this, this performance was her final wish. A shield for her daughter. A promise that the world would not consume the last thing she loved.

“Do you, Dante Moretti, take Millia Valenti as your lawful weeded wife?…”

The words were a blur. I looked at Aria again. She stood just behind her mother’s chair, head bowed, fingers twisting the small bouquet she held. Her lips curved in a soft, practiced smile. But I saw the tension in her posture. I saw the truth she was acting too.

We were all acting.

“I do.”

My voice didn’t shake. Years in the underworld taught me to mask everything. But when I slid the ring onto Millia’s finger, my gaze caught Aria’s once more. Her lips parted slightly, her throat moved as if swallowing something heavy. And for the first time, I saw it, feelings. Raw, unguarded feeling.

The applause broke through like thunder.

People rose, champagne glasses lifted, cameras flashed. Millia leaned closer, her perfume delicate and soft lavender and old memories. She whispered, “Thank you, Dante. For giving me peace.”

Her words hit harder than I expected. I kissed her hand gently, the gesture meant for show, but the emotion that followed was real. Respect. Gratitude. A bittersweet sorrow for a woman who deserved better than what this world or I is offering her.

The reception unfolded under a canopy of starlight. Guests danced, laughter echoed, and violins sang beneath the ocean wind. Millia glowed among her friends, her smile fragile but genuine. I stood at her side, playing the perfect husband.

And yet, every time Aria moved through the crowd, my attention followed.

She carried herself differently now, so composed, but not untouched. Every glance, every step was deliberate. At one point, our eyes met across the courtyard. She didn’t look away this time. Her gaze was steady, knowing. It wasn’t innocence anymore. It was challenge.

When I finally found her alone near the rose archway, I knew I should’ve walked away. But I didn’t.

“You did well today,” I said quietly, my tone neutral.

Her head tilted slightly, a faint smile curling her lips. “So did you.”

A pause stretched between us, sharp and breathless. The music faded. All I could hear was the ocean and her heartbeat, fast and fragile in the silence.

She stepped closer, her eyes tracing my face. “You love her, don’t you?”

I wanted to lie. But the truth that came out wasn’t the one either of us expected.

“I respect her. She’s… kind. Stronger than most.”

Her lips parted, like she wanted to ask what I wasn’t saying. I looked at her. And I realized that my restraint, my silence, my vows none of it would save me from this.

“You’ll take care of her,” Aria whispered, as if convincing herself.

“I already am,” I murmured.

And maybe it was the wine, or the moonlight, or the unbearable tension between us but when her fingers brushed mine, just barely, I felt the weight of every promise I couldn’t keep.

We both knew this night wasn’t about love. Not yet. But it was the beginning of something dangerous. Something we wouldn’t be able to bury forever.

As she walked away into the glow of lanterns and laughter, I realized the truth I’d been avoiding all night

I might’ve married Millia Valenti…

But my heart was already betraying her.