Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
I'm also not supposed to see her in her dress. We've had no time to shop so I'm sure that her dress is borrowed from one of the girls, or brought in from a local designer, since the Rossis have lots of different connections.
Whatever she wears, she will be stunning.
My tux has been laid out, my clothes ready, when a knock comes at my door. “Come in, it’s open.”
Orlando strolls in, dressed in a tux, his hair still damp from the shower and slicked back. "Romeo arranged a surprise for you,” he says with a smile.
I can't imagine what it is. Can’t really say I care that much either, because there's only one thing I worry about, and that's my ring on her finger.
“Oh yeah?”
He opens the blinds and gestures to where I can see the pavilion outside the window. Romeo’s insisting we have the wedding inside, for safety reasons. He still half expects an ambush at any moment, before we take our vows, and has arranged for all members of our mob—from the newest recruits to the inner sanctum—to be present and armed.
I squint to see what he’s pointing at, a handicapped accessible van with flashing lights.
“Aw, is that my grandmother?” I ask. I’m surprised when my throat tightens. I didn’t think this would really be a “wedding” but more of a precautionary measure.
“Yeah, brother. Got permission to bring her here for the day. She’s downstairs waiting for you, cracking Mama up with her questions. ‘Is that a real chandelier? Is this a real castle? Did knights ever live here?’” He grins. “Mama says knights still live here.”
I smile to myself and finish getting ready. The tie is crooked, but Orlando comes over and straightens it.
He’s the brother I never had.
“Thanks for everything, man. I knew that you’d take the hit from Sergio when he found out.”
“Eh,” he says. “Sergio can kiss my ass. I love the guy like a brother, but he needed to be taken down a peg or two.”
“Or ten,” I say with a shrug.
He grins at me. “Something tells me he won’t pull anything fast once you two are married.”
I nod in the mirror at Orlando. “He’d better not.” And I mean it. It would cause a feud between the families, but once we take our vows, Vivia is mine. Fully.
“I understand,” he says with feeling. “Anyone tried to fuck my wife around, they’d deal with me.”
“Of course.” That’s how it is. That’s who we are. Some say we’re ruthless and don’t have any emotions at all, but they’re wrong.
We absolutely do. We just have different priorities than other people do.
“You ready?” he asks. I nod. I’m ready.
I never really allowed myself to imagine what this day would look like. I knew when I took vows to the Rossi family that my future wedding vows would be to whomever Romeo saw fit for me to marry. I had more of a say in it than many others, but in the end, we all know a joining of our two families would be best.
But here I am. Ready to take vows to a woman I really, truly love. A woman I look forward to spending the rest of my life with. A woman I want to raise children with and grow old with, and this is a gift I never thought I’d have.
“You gonna cry, brother?”
I give him a fake punch to the gut, and he obliges me with a duck and groan.
“I don’t cry,” I tell him, even though it’s a lie. I do cry. I’m just selective about who sees me.
But when I stand in front of the priest downstairs and see my future wife turn the corner toward the Great Hall, Orlando chuckles beside me.
“Don’t cry, my ass,” he says, while I swipe at my eyes and try to get my shit together. Because God, is she beautiful.
She wears a dress that is so pretty she looks like she stepped out of a fashion catalog. It isn’t the dress, though. It’s her.
The short-sleeved dress has a sheer floral lace overlay and a plunging neckline trimmed with flowers. The back is a deep V. The little cap sleeves make her look fetching and feminine, and the slim waist of the dress cinches and flares to a long skirt that hugs her body before it flourishes downward and graces the floor with pretty embroidered panels. She looks like a princess. Princess. The first little argument we ever had was when I called her princess.
I can only see the tops of her satin shoes, and her pretty honey-colored hair cascades around her face in waves, pinned in place with a pearl clip.
When she sees me, she smiles, clasps the bouquet of fresh flowers from the garden to her chest, then walks toward me on Sergio’s arm.
He gives me a look as he walks toward me, almost surprised, definitely resigned, and a little bit wary. This decision will be in his family’s best interest, we know that. But he doesn’t know what to expect from me.