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“No,” he growled before the line went dead.
Alex
Marcello escorted me into a bright sitting room with a dozen floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the water. Sunlight spilled through the glass, illuminating Arlo Salvatore's chiseled cheekbones. Three other men dressed in expensive suits stared at me.
My jaw practically unhinged at the sight of them. “Who are they?” I asked Marcello.
“The Basiles,” he whispered.
Arlo set a glass of amber liquid on the coffee table and stood to his full height. With the wave of his hand, he urged me to move toward him.
I stepped into the room.
“Alexandrea, I’d like you to meet your extended family,” he said in a deep voice that sent chills down my arms. He slid his arm behind my back and guided me to the couches. “They’ve flown in from Italy for your wedding.”
“Oh,” I muttered, at a loss for words.
Luca hadn’t even proposed yet.
The three men staring at me looked related to Arlo. Two dark-haired men in their late thirties or early forties stood next to a man with white hair and wrinkled skin. They had similar complexions, tanned as if they spent a lot of time outside.
“Hi.” I extended my hand for the youngest of the group to shake. “I’m Alex.”
Instead of shaking my hand, he raised it to his mouth and pressed a kiss to my skin. The warmth from his breath caused a ripple of shock waves to shoot up my arm.
“Such a beauty, Alexandrea,” he said in a thick Italian accent.
“This is Stefano Basile,” Arlo said with a slight tip of his head. “And this is Giovanni Basile,” he said as the next man leaned forward to kiss each of my cheeks.
“You chose well,” Giovanni said to Arlo with an evil grin. “She looks like her mother.”
Fear shook through me when Arlo gripped my shoulders and moved me in front of their leader. A smile tugged at the corners of the older man’s mouth. He brushed my cheek with his fingers, a loving gesture for a terrifying man.
“And this is Antonio Basile,” Arlo said against my ear.
The older man brought me in for a hug and kissed my cheeks.
“Nice to meet all of you,” I lied as I slipped out of his embrace.
There was nothing sweet about this encounter. It took every ounce of strength I had to keep my legs from shaking, which was a real pain in the ass in five-inch heels.
A door slammed from a distance, and my heart hammered in my chest. Shoes clicked on the tiled floor in the hallway, and when I glanced over my shoulder, my heart sank to my stomach. Luca stood in the entryway, with his eyes fixed on me, dressed in his usual bespoke suit that hugged every inch of his muscular body like a glove.
A cocky smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth as he entered the room. “Gentleman,” Luca said as he stood behind me, sliding his hand to my hip to pull me into his hard chest. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I see you’ve met my beautiful bride.”
“We’re ready, Domenica,” Arlo called out.
A woman with long, dark hair appeared in the entryway. I smiled at Caio Bella's owner, who wore a knee-length green dress that fit her curvy frame.
“Alex,” she said with a tight-lipped smile. “Nice to see you. If you can follow me, we can get started.”
I lifted a curious eyebrow. “Started on what?”
“Your dress fitting.”
Luca gave me a look that said not to challenge him in mixed company. Without a word, I followed Domenica out of the sitting room. We walked down the long hall and moved into a room filled with couches and full-length mirrors.
I followed her to the opposite side of the room, where racks of wedding gowns waited for me. There were over a dozen gowns, some lacy with long skirts, others with shorter skirts and low-cut bodices, sat on silk hangers. I lifted a chiffon mermaid dress from the rack and held it up, admiring its simplistic beauty.
Domenica took the hanger from me. “Excellent choice.”
She walked over to an ornate dressing screen and hung the dress on a hook on the wall. I stood there, unable to move or breathe, feeling like a weight was crushing my chest.
“Do you need help?” Domenica lilted.
“No, I’m fine.”
I kicked off my pumps and stripped out of my dress, draping it over the screen. I yanked the mermaid gown from the hanger and stepped into it. The soft fabric felt amazing against my skin. I reached for the zipper, but it was too low for my fingers to make contact.
“Can you zip me?”
Domenica flung out her hand, gesturing for me to turn around. “You look incredible in this gown.”
Staring in the mirror, I smoothed a hand down the front of the dress.
Domenica waved her hand at a table covered with white shoes set on top of the designer boxes. She lifted a pair from the table. “These will look amazing with this dress.”
