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“Custom-made, Sophia?” Mama shakes her head.
“Yes, I’m sure Croccifixio will like it.”
“Of course, he will. Let her have fun. Furthermore, you only get married once,” Zia says before clamping her hand over her mouth.
“I’ll get changed,” I say as I hurriedly walk into the dressing room. I knew I couldn’t get through this day without one reference back to Chicago.
I feel torn in two. On the outside, I am an excited fiancée looking forward to her dream wedding, but internally, I feel conflicted. Am I betraying Anton’s memory by marrying somebody else? I have been punishing myself for so long for his death that any respite makes me feel more guilty.
I want Rocco more than I care to admit, but I don’t know if I can deal with the pain of love again. Croccifixio De Luca is notorious for leaving a trail of broken bodies and hearts behind him, and I am not sure if I am ready to be another name on that list.
I peer down at the white lace, and every moment of fear comes flooding back to me. When I close my eyes, I see the blood-soaked dress and Anton’s dead eyes staring at me. It’s like I am re-living it all over again. The moment my eyes flicker, I am back in the dressing room in my pristine fairytale dress. I slide down the dressing room wall, my heart was still in pieces from loving the wrong man. It almost killed me once, I can’t bear to do it again.
“She’s late,” I say to Paolo, watching the clock hand change to five minutes past eight.
“She’s upstairs, not in Timbuktu,” he seethes.
“Can’t be too careful after last time,” I say breezily.
“Well, it looks like you still got what you wanted,” Paolo says, smiling, though his smile doesn’t meet his eyes.
“I definitely did,” I say widening my own smile to irritate him further.
Suddenly I hear the clatter of heels and Sophia appears. I frown at her dress as my mind tries to place where I have seen it before, then I remember.
My jacket.
She’s wearing the fucking jacket I met her in as an engagement dress, it’s been custom altered, but I still can see the remnants of the original jacket. I’m impressed by her wit and even more so by her beauty. She’s changed her hair, it’s in loose finger curls around her shoulders rather than the wavy style she usually wears it. She looksdifferentsomehow,softer. Her eyes lock with mine, and I feel an involuntary twitch in my groin. Goddamn, the wedding night can’t come soon enough. Paolo coughs politely and I can tell he is indicating that the way I am staring at his daughter is becoming a little too indecent for his taste. I reluctantly pull my gaze away from her gorgeous eyes.
“Nice outfit,” I say, granting her a smirk.
“It’s a custom suit-dress, I thought you might like it,” she says innocently as she returns my smile.
“Why would you wear a suit jacket as an engagement dress, Sophia? Very masculine.” Her mother tuts in annoyance.
“I think it’s very sophisticated,” I declare, sitting down at the set table.
“Yes, maybe that is the fashion nowadays,” her mother backtracks, slightly placated by my interjection.
“I have something for you,” I say while reaching into my pocket and opening the ring box to reveal a large red diamond.
“It’s beautiful,” she says, giving me a genuine smile as her cheeks flush with pleasure.
I want to say, just like you but I don’t want to come off a little too lame. I look up at her as I slip the ring on, hopefully intending for the message to come across. The megawatt smile she gives me reassures me that she either knows what I’m thinking, likes the ring, or hopefully both. Her mother shrieks theatrically at the ring and excitedly kisses me on both cheeks.
“Zia, come and look at this engagement ring.”
“I can see it from here. You could pour vodka over that rock,” she laughs huskily whilst smoking a cigarette.
“Very nice,” Paolo says, giving me an appraising look. “Gennaro, Claudio, Massimo, come and toast your future brother-in-law.”
The two older brothers, Gennaro and Claudio, shake my hand stoically and sit on either side of Paolo. I assume this is meant to make me feel threatened in some way—I’m not. Massimo, her youngest brother, greets me in a friendlier way and Sophia gives him a grateful nod.
“Where did you get your inspiration from for that outfit?” I say in a low tone as the conversation around the rest of the table breaks out.
“I guess it sort of just came to me all of a sudden.”
“I think it looks better on you than on me. Of course, it would look better on the floor but that is a discussion for another time.”
