Alessio had already decided—somewhere between the vows and the champagne—that he was next.

He stood with the groomsmen at the edge of the reception hall, jacket shrugged off, sleeves rolled just enough to look effortless, watching her move through the room like she belonged to it. Sage green clung to her perfectly, soft where it should be, dangerous where it counted. Bridesmaid, yeah—but in his head, she already looked like a wife.

Jenna caught his eye from across the room and smiled knowingly. Married. Glowing. Already in on his plan.

They all were.

Every one of their friends who’d crossed that line before him had given their blessing—quiet nods, claps on the shoulder, a few “about damn time” comments whispered over drinks. Alessio had taken it all in, calm on the outside, heart absolutely sprinting. He’d been carrying the ring in his pocket all evening, not to propose tonight—no, tonight was a test run. A promise to himself.

Then the bouquet toss happened.

He barely paid attention until the crowd gasped—and suddenly she was standing there, bouquet in hand, laughing in disbelief as everyone around her erupted. The floor seemed to clear on its own, as if the universe had decided to give him the moment he’d been waiting for.

The band shifted, smooth and slow, the opening notes of West Coast sliding into the room like a memory. Their song. The song that started everything.

Alessio smirked to himself.

He approached her slowly, hand still tucked into his pocket, thumb brushing the velvet box like a secret. When he reached her, he leaned in just enough for his voice to be hers alone.

“Hey,” he murmured, eyes dark, appreciative, unapologetic. “You know how unfair it is to look like that at someone else’s wedding?”

His free hand found her waist, warm and sure, like it had always belonged there. He inhaled, nuzzling briefly at her neck—not possessive, just honest. Like a man who knew exactly what he wanted and had already decided he wasn’t letting it go.

“Ravishing doesn’t even cover it,” he added quietly, a smile in his voice. “You look like trouble. The kind I’d happily spend the rest of my life dealing with.”

And as she laughed—soft, real, hers—Alessio tightened his grip just a little, heart steady now.

Soon, he promised himself.

Very soon.