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The Wrong Groom's Vegas Vow Novel Cover

The Wrong Groom's Vegas Vow

Just days before her wedding, Quinn learns her fiancé, Shane Rossi, relocated their venue to Las Vegas to please his childhood sweetheart. When she overhears Shane mocking her family's financial ruin and claiming she has no choice but to marry him, her ten-year devotion shatters. Refusing to play his game, Quinn skips the Vegas ceremony entirely. Instead, in her grandmother's quiet Italian town, she exchanges vows with another man, choosing a brand-new path.
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Chapter 1

Three days before the wedding, I found out that Shane Rossi had changed our wedding venue from my grandmother's small town in Italy to a Las Vegas casino, the favorite spot of his childhood sweetheart, Tara Bianchi.

I ran to confront him, only to overhear him complaining to a friend:

“Thank God Tara has good taste, otherwise I’d be the laughingstock of the family for the rest of my life.”

His friend reminded him, “Didn’t you promise Quinn you’d have the ceremony at her grandmother’s place? Aren’t you afraid she’ll get angry and call off the wedding?”

Shane Rossi scoffed.

“The Moretti family is on the verge of bankruptcy. Marrying me is her only way out. She can’t afford to gamble it away.”

“I’ve already had someone inform her. She’s probably scrambling to change her flights and visa as we speak.”

Anger and indignation welled up in my chest. I bit my lip and, in the end, turned and walked away.

Three days later, the casino wedding in Las Vegas went on as scheduled.

I didn’t change my flight, nor did I show up.

Instead, in my grandmother’s small Italian town, I exchanged rings with another man.

To this day, Shane Rossi doesn’t understand.

I wasn't marrying him for a so-called ""way out,"" but because of a love that had lasted for ten years.

But once I woke up from that dream, it was time for me to have other choices.

————————

1

After I left the Rossi family headquarters, Shane Rossi sent me the address of the Las Vegas casino along with a photo.

The photo showed the casino’s magnificent, glittering main entrance.

The neon lights flickered, the picture of opulence.

But front and center in the photo was Tara Bianchi, with her wavy, seaweed-like hair and a long red dress.

My finger paused on her brilliant, smiling face, and I suddenly felt how absurd this all was.

I was the bride, and this was the wedding venue Shane had chosen for us.

But the star of the photo he sent was the childhood friend he always described as, ""just a friend, don't overthink it.""

After that, there was nothing more from Shane.

I knew him.

He figured his assistant had already notified me, and this was just his way of giving me a little push.

He was afraid I wouldn't know the destination when I rebooked my flight.

A heavy stone seemed to lodge itself in my heart. I just couldn't understand.

He had already promised to hold the ceremony in my grandmother’s town. Why would he change it without a second thought, just because Tara liked the idea?

It was already dark when I returned to the villa where we were preparing for the wedding.

Just as I arrived, I heard Shane yelling at the housekeeper, Maria:

“Quinn Moretti isn’t a three-year-old child. Does she have to bother me every time she comes home a little late?”

“But Miss Quinn left right after a phone call this afternoon. I’m worried that in a fit of anger, she might…”

Shane scoffed.

“She went out to get her visa and change her flights. The Moretti family has so many people coming along; it’s not a simple change to make.”

“Don’t worry, Quinn is dying to marry me. She’d die without me.”

“Even if I set the venue in Antarctica, she’d crawl her way there, let alone a place in Las Vegas that Tara so carefully selected.”

Maria said no more. Instead, it was Shane who began muttering to himself:

“Tara hasn’t replied in five minutes… I should go check on her.”

By the time he ran out, I was already gone.

This was a Rossi family villa, not my home.

To make the wedding preparations easier, Shane had suggested I move in.

At first, we were inseparable.

But then one day, Tara came back to the country after a bad breakup, and he said he had to go comfort her.

That ""comforting"" session lasted for four months.

Whenever Tara said she was upset, he would drop me without a second thought and run to her side.

I picked out the wedding dress. I designed the decorations for my grandmother’s house. He wasn’t involved in any of it.

Whenever I protested my dissatisfaction, he would look up from his chat with Tara, his face clouded with displeasure.

“You want to marry me to save your Moretti family’s business, don’t you?”

“I’ve already agreed to marry you. What are you still nitpicking about?”

Then Tara would call, and he would immediately smile and walk out.

He left my words to scatter in the air, leaving no trace.

“But you were the one who proposed to me first.”

“And I agreed because I love you…”

In that moment, I went from a bride-to-be immersed in joy to a lonely observer, keeping watch over an empty house.

And now, even the choice of our wedding venue had nothing to do with me.

I slept at a friend’s house that night. Shane never contacted me.

The next day, after finishing up my work, I walked in the door and immediately heard Tara’s laughter:

“During the vows, there must be a shower of flower petals floating down from both sides. That’s what makes it romantic.”

Shane sat beside her, his smiling eyes fixed on her.

“Whatever you want.”

It was a look of affection I had never received.

Seeing me, Tara waved me over.

“Quinn, come quick! I have a brilliant idea for the wedding!”

In my peripheral vision, I saw Shane’s displeasure.

“Why are you just getting back now? Tara has been busy with the wedding for four months, and you’ve become the one who doesn’t lift a finger.”

“But it’s for the best. Tara has much better taste than you. Not like that rustic style you came up with. I was almost laughed at by everyone in our circle.”

At that moment, the feeling of being an outsider washed over me again.

“I’m tired. I’m going to rest.”

Ignoring Shane’s knitted brows, I went straight to the guest bedroom.

As I closed the door, a message I had rejected many times popped up again:

“Just say the word, and Vincent Lombardi will risk his entire fortune to come and crash that wedding.”

Outside the door, Tara was describing her dream floral wedding in a casino.

Her words were interspersed with Shane’s endlessly patient refrain of “Whatever you want.”

I gave a bitter smile and typed on my phone:

“No need to crash it. You are my groom.”

Shane, if you are destined for a casino, I will go south, back to my hometown.

Then I will let you go, and let myself go as well.

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