The Runaway Don’s Bride Chapter 05

The Runaway Don’s Bride Chapter 05

[Duminic’s POV)

The church was in disarray. They all said Valentína was gone.

How was that possible?

I scanned the hall, searched every corner, then walked to the bridal suite and pushed the door open.

Empty.

I dialed Valentina’s number. Three rings. Declined.

Again. Powered off.

Real panic hit–a shift from confusion into something I’d never felt before. A total, disorienting blankness.

The Contini family had arrived at some point.

Her mother burst through the doors, already looking. “Where’s Valentina? She’s not here yet?”

Don Contini’s voice dropped low, his brow furrowed deep.

“That girl. Never had any sense. A union between two families and she’s about to ruin it!”

Her mother chimed in. “Can‘ ‘t even

her regret this.”

take her own wedding seriously. When she shows up, I’m going to make

I didn’t respond. I turned and walked out.

“I’m going to check the places she might be.”

Her usual suite at the hotel was on the seventh floor.

I knocked. No answer.

I got a key card from the front desk and swiped

The bed was made. The window was

anyone had been here.

in

ventilation. No wedding gown, no makeup case, no sign

The front desk checked their records. “Miss Valentina checked out several days ago. Early checkout–her deposit was forfeited per policy.”

I stood in the middle of that empty suite, and something inside my chest collapsed.

I wanted to call her again. Or call her friends.

But the realization hit me like a blow: I had no way to reach her.

All these years, aside from her phone number, I had nothing. No way to find her.

Don Contini and his Donna had followed me.

“Still no sign of Valentina?”

My voice came out rough.

“No. The front desk says she checked out days ago. She never came today.”

“I’ll send the Mazzarella family’s people to keep looking.”

My hands were shaking slightly as I walked out the hotel entrance.

Vittoria had followed at some point.

She stood by the door, bag in hand, makeup flawless.

When she saw me, she hesitated. Then stepped forward and blocked my path.

“Dominic. I know you two were supposed to get married. I wasn’t planning to say anything. But since things have turned out this way…”

I looked down at her, my gaze unfocused.

She took a deep breath, as if summoning all her courage.

“I regret it. Not agreeing to be your Donna back then. I know you still love me. We could… start over?”

[Valentina’s POV]

A Florence morning, carrying the particular dampness of the Arno riverbank.

I set up a pottery wheel in Clara’s courtyard.

The clay took shape slowly beneath my palms.

Clara stood in the kitchen, brewing coffee in a moka pot.

“Seriously, you’ve been at this for what, a few days? Your throwing is already better than mine.”

I didn’t look up. The corner of my mouth curved slightly.

There was something strange about working with clay.

You had to place your hands in exactly the right position. Apply even pressure. The clay spun on the wheel, and the slightest imbalance would send it collapsing mid–rotation.

I liked that sense of control.

Nothing like relationships between people.

I’d always been good with my hands always had a knack for making things.

But I’d spent years trying to catch up to Vittoria, forcing myself into things I was never built for.

Forgetting what I actually loved.

That weekend, Clara brought a few pieces to a local artisan market.

They sold out in under two hours.

Someone turned a coffee mug over and over in their hands.

“This is gorgeous!”

“Do you take custom orders?”

A local home decor blogger happened to buy a tea bowl, posted a photo on Instagram, and the comments exploded.

Orders poured in like snow.