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‘Caro? Che cos’è?’
He refocused at his grandmother’s concerned expression. Mia, too, was staring at him but with less concern and more...indifference. That look grated. Resembled much too closely the one he’d seen on his father’s face as a child. His mother’s preoccupation with his father to the exclusion of her own son. Their callous dismissal of his very existence until their deaths and the realisation that he would never even know whether he’d ever been w
anted. Whether he’d mattered in any way to them or merely been a biological accident they’d been saddled with.
He’d moved heaven and earth not to be irrelevant to anyone. That Mia would dare rake that particular wound—
‘Perhaps we should leave him alone. It looks like he wants a meditative dinner rather than to be bothered playing host, eh, Caterina?’
The little challenging spark eased his tension, scorching away that unfortunate moment of self-pity. She wasn’t indifferent to him. Hell, he’d stake his substantial fortune that it was the opposite. Still, there was a purpose to this evening beside breaking bread with the woman who’d betrayed him.
That urge to get beneath her skin sharpened. Without second thought, he reached for her hand, felt her tense at his hold and hid a smile. No, Mia was far from indifferent.
‘I wasn’t distracted, cara. Merely contemplating whether to deliver our news before or after we eat. And I’ve decided there’s no time like the present, sì?’ He raised her hand, brushed his lips over her knuckles. Relaxed even further when she trembled. Of course, confirming she wasn’t indifferent to him returned him to that state of arousal he couldn’t seem to halt whenever he was in her presence.
But that too would be handled.
‘Che notizie hai?’ his grandmother probed, momentarily forgetting that Mia wasn’t fluent in Italian.
He switched his gaze to Mia, deliberately locking gazes with her as he kissed her knuckles again. Her breath shivered out, her expression giving her away. ‘Mia and I are getting married, Nonna. And since so much time has been wasted, we’ve decided to wed immediately.’
His grandmother’s reaction was gratifyingly warming. Rocco even managed to tolerate her tears and frequent bouts of excitement as the meal progressed. He barely tasted it, his gaze recurrently drawn to a solemn Mia.
Eventually, Nonna noticed too. ‘You are happy about this, Mia?’ she asked.
To her credit, Mia scrounged up a genuine smile. ‘Yes, I am. But I wish I had more time to prepare though.’
He stiffened, but Nonna came to his aid, brushing away Mia’s concern. ‘Rocco is right. No need to delay this if it is what you both want. Plus you’re wedding a powerful man. No reason why you shouldn’t use his connections to ease your way in this process. I will of course help in any way I can.’
‘Grazie, Nonna. As long as you don’t wear yourself out.’
She waved him away. ‘It was a little incident, nothing more. Mio pronipote, Gianni, has given me a new lease of life. Now, Mia, tell me everything you require and I will make a list. We will start early tomorrow morning.’
Rocco sat back, satisfaction easing through him as one box was successfully ticked in securing everything that was his. He was confident the rest would fall into place just as easily.
No alternative outcome was permitted.
Nine days after her arrival in Palermo, Mia stood outside the ancient double doors of a duomo a few streets from Rocco’s villa. In terms of size, the cathedral wasn’t large, but in grandeur stakes it dripped with history and prestige, from its golden, eleventh-century basilica to the carefully preserved mosaics, magnificent stone arches and Corinthian columns. It was also Caterina Vitelli’s local church where she attended mass twice a week.
Mia’s hand trembled and she couldn’t quite catch her breath. While she wanted to blame the tight cinch of the corseted wedding dress, she knew it had nothing to do with the gown’s design—which was a rich cream silk lace, sweeping, with a train stunning enough to render her breathless—and everything to do with the butterflies that had invaded her stomach when she’d awakened the morning after their arrival to Caterina’s arm-long to-do list, and the reality that this wedding was happening.
Rocco, during their one and only discussion of the wedding, had acceded to her wish to keep it small. But Mia had quickly found out that small in Vitelli terms meant a few dozen people, because, while Rocco was Caterina’s only grandchild, his grandfather had several siblings who’d generated a plethora of second and third cousins, most of whom were currently employed by Vitelli Construction. All of whom were eager to remain in Rocco’s favour by honouring his invitation to attend his wedding.
One person in particular had been conspicuously absent in the last week though.
Allegra.
Apparently, she was visiting her parents in Northern Sicily with her children. The news had brought more relief than Mia was willing to admit. Nevertheless, over the past few days she’d grasped just how deep Allegra’s influence went in Rocco’s household. Each morning, there were fresh flowers delivered to every room in the villa as per Allegra’s instructions. And Mia had discovered that most decisions concerning the running of the villa were approved or vetoed by Allegra.
Mia tried to tell herself she didn’t care. But it grated to discover she couldn’t request Gianni’s favourite pasta be added to the shopping list without seeking approval from Allegra Vitelli.
‘Mummy?’
She started and looked down to find Gianni staring up at her, impatience etched on his face. She’d given him the choice of standing next to his father beside the altar or walking down the aisle with her and her heart had turned over with joy when he’d chosen to walk with her. In his miniature version of Rocco’s grey morning suit, with his hair neatly combed, he was too adorable for words.
‘Shall we go in?’ She infused lightness into her voice.
He nodded eagerly, tugging at her hand.
