Adrian couldn't believe it: today was the day, his wedding day. A day a long time coming, thanks to a mix of old family traditions and newer, messier emotions. The sun blazed over the Tuscan countryside, its rays split by the sprawling estate owned by Don Calabrese himself, an imposing figure in all the familial mayhem. Here, tradition met insanity with hugs that bordered on a stranglehold - the kind only true Italian families understood.

Flowers were strewn everywhere, their overwhelming fragrance mixing with the tantalizing aroma of roasted meats and rich sauces. Adrian's tailored suit fit like a second skin, accentuating each meticulously-built muscle, while his heart somersaulted like a love-crazed teenager. He was ready to promise himself to a woman who wielded words as sharply as her knives.

His grandmother watched him, eyes like a hawk sizing up prey, ready to critique everything from his posture to the shine on his shoes. But Adrian didn't mind. None of it mattered as long as his bride's eyes would meet his with something other than disdain.

Standing by the altar, Adrian fidgeted with his family ring - a sign of respect for the old guard and a reminder of the heavy crown that lay upon his head. His fingers tapped a slow rhythm, drumming out a pattern only he understood. The restlessness drove dreams of being with her right after they were hitched, but priorities twisted, leaned towards the idea of endless Sunday mornings spent in lazy tangles. Of course, if they ever made it out of this circus first.

The noise of the gathering crowd receded to a gentle hum when she appeared. Marching down like a warrior bride, she was more glorious than a sunrise, and he'd witnessed plenty of those searching for purpose after long nights of boiling adrenaline. Here was the entire universe, wrapped in white, her mischievous smile a loaded promise.

"Would you look at that," cracked one of his cousins near the back, followed by an audible slap from a grandmother. Adrian stifled a laugh, reminding himself to thank them later - their voices the backdrop to his madness.

The vows passed in a fog, his focus singular. How could a mere combination of words ever capture what was between them? He was hopeless, poisoned and smitten.

The "I do" was delivered with a weight that snapped against expectations. Adrian belonged to her. With a kiss that demanded silence, or rather dominance over all other things, he sealed it. Her lips were soft, yet pushed every raw nerve to the surface. He peeled away the caution careful enough to scare the devil himself.

At the reception, glasses clinked, laughter roared, and warm glances chased away chilly revenge plots. Adrian, amidst it, couldn't be less bothered to play the charming mobster. His temptress cozied beside him, and he was irretrievably drawn in.

But this wasn't over. It was a kind of decree; he'd ensure her safety, build empires if that's what it took to make her smile. The thunder of laughter and music wouldn't bury the undertone of danger, but with her beside him, Adrian sensed he could shake up the world.

"I'm whipped," he muttered into her hair, an admission only the stars and his bride would ever hear.