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‘Yes, I’m happy.’ She gazed out at the gardens, burgeoning with blossom and scent. ‘It’s been a perfect day.’
‘You didn’t mind not having a big wedding?’
Mia shook her head. ‘I never intended on getting married at all, so why would I want a big wedding?’ she answered with a little laugh. She glanced again at the rings on her finger, a tremor of excitement rippling through her at the sight of them. There was no going back.
She might have never thought she’d marry, and yet here she was. Here they were…and tonight would be their wedding night. Already nerves sizzled through her at the thought of that.
‘Most young girls dream of big, white weddings,’ Alessandro remarked.
‘Not me. This has been perfect, truly.’ She rested one hand on his, curled around the balustrade, the sun warming their skin. ‘I couldn’t ask for anything more, Alessandro.’
‘Nor could I.’ He smiled at her, his expression warm and glinting, allaying the last of her fears. This was going to work. It already was working. Then Alessandro nodded towards Alyssa, who was bringing out a magnificent millefoglie, the traditional Italian wedding cake of puff pastry, Chantilly cream, icing sugar and strawberries. ‘Shall we have cake?’
‘I can always have cake.’ Mia took Ella from Paulo as Alyssa cut the cake, and Paulo fetched a bottle of champagne. Ella grabbed at her fork as Mia took a bite of the delicious cake, savouring the explosion of sweetness in her mouth. ‘Not for you, little one,’ she said with a laugh as Ella’s chubby fingers latched onto the fork.
‘I’ll take her.’ With relaxed ease born now of experience, Alessandro reached for Ella, cradling her against his shoulder. As it always did, Mia’s heart constricted at the sight of father and daughter, husband and child. Her family. A thrill ran through her at the thought, and one that had nothing to do with fear, and all with hope and even joy. This was real now. They were.
They ate cake and had champagne in the spring sunshine. Alessandro had planned a dinner for them, and Alyssa insisted on having Ella for the whole night, assuring Mia that the baby could sleep in her cottage.
‘Ella is a good bambina,’ Alyssa said firmly. ‘She did not wake up even once. Such a good girl. This is your wedding night, Mia. Enjoy, Signora Costa!’
Signora Costa. Another ripple of surprised excitement shivered through her at the realisation of her new status.
The sun was starting to set, sending golden rays slanting through Mia’s bedroom, as she exchanged her wedding gown for a cocktail dress in scarlet with a handkerchief hemline and a halter neck. Her wedding ring flashed as she did her make-up and hair, gazing at her face as if to look for changes. She was a married woman. And by tomorrow morning, she would truly be a married woman, in the way that mattered most…
Mia’s stomach dipped as she considered the wedding night that loomed ahead of her, exciting and yet terrifying. Her one sexual experience had been short and frenzied, mere moments that had been blurred by passion.
Tonight would be in an entirely different category…and that both excited and scared her, with its promises of both pleasure and intense vulnerability. How would Alessandro be as a husband and lover? How would she be? Would she please him? Ella was only a few months old, and her body had changed since the last time he’d seen it, admittedly for only a brief time. What would he think of her gently rounded stomach, her heavier breasts?
A light knock sounded on the door. ‘Ready, cara?’ Alessandro called.
‘I think so.’ Mia gave her reflection one last tremulous glance before she went to the door and opened it. Alessandro stood there, looking as devastating as ever in a crisp button-down shirt in dove grey and darker grey trousers. He smelled wonderful.
‘You look lovely,’ he murmured, putting one hand on her waist as he pulled her to him for a prolonged kiss that made Mia’s senses spin and reel. She wondered if kissing him would always make her blood fizz and her heart hum, or if it would become natural, even ordinary.
‘So where are we going for dinner, exactly?’ Mia asked as they headed downstairs. ‘The trattoria in town?’
Alessandro chuckled, shaking his head. ‘I think not.’
‘There aren’t any other restaurants…’
‘This is our wedding night, Mia. We will celebrate in style.’
They walked out of the villa, and Mia stopped in surprise at the sight of the helicopter resting on the helipad in the distance, obscured by a few plane trees.
‘Where…?’
‘Come.’ Taking her hand, Alessandro led her to the helicopter.
‘But Ella…’
‘We’ll be back home in a few hours, never fear.’ He helped her up into the helicopter as Mia’s stomach fizzed with excitement. Where on earth was Alessandro taking her?
She found out an hour later, when they arrived in Venice, the city’s many canals gleaming under the setting sun, the wedding-cake roof of San Marco Cathedral blazing with gold. Alessandro had hired out an entire restaurant by Piazza San Marco, the dining room flickering with candlelight, the canal mere steps away, the restaurant secluded and romantic as they were served course after course by a discreet w
aiter.
‘This is amazing,’ Mia breathed, in awe of the luxury and romance of it all.
