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“Is that so?” she says raising her eyebrow a fraction.
“Did you take my advice?”
“About what?”
“About the lingerie.”
“I guess you’ll have to find out,” she smirks while sipping her drink demurely. I reach my hand underneath the table discreetly and place it on her soft silky leg, my thumb circling her inner thigh as I feel her skin shiver underneath me.
“To be continued,” I say pulling my hand back and smiling when I see the spark of excitement in her eyes.
Later in the evening, Paolo has arranged for fireworks on the terrace as well as a band playing in the gardens. Children run around dressed in the best clothes whereas the women keep coming up to Sophia to look at her ring in awe and congratulate her. The men are a little less overt, with a few handshakes and nods. I obliged Paolo by letting him organize the guestlist for the engagement, so these were more his friends than mine.
Perhaps he is trying to show me how well connected he is, or maybe he really is just an asshole in general. Either way, I don’t care. Sophia has disappeared from view until I find her tottering into the house in the Louboutin’s she wore to my birthday. I also notice some of the men giving her furtive glances, but they soon turn away when I glare at them.
“Are you following me, Don De Luca?” she says as she turns around to find me behind her.
“Just protecting my investment,” I say softly.
“Who says I amyoursto protect?”
“If I want something, I normally take it.”
“I bet that gets you into a lot of trouble.”
“Which coincidentally is my middle name.”
The wedding day has arrivedand I am getting ready for the church as hairdressers and make-up artists fan out around me; fluffing, pressing, and spraying from every angle. I give myself a reassuring smile, appreciating how well today has gone so far. My dress for the church is a princess strapless style, I was saving my favorite dress, the Dior one for the reception. My hair has been set in loose waves that fall over my shoulders and my make-up isminimalwith a hint of pink for cheeks and lips.
“Have you eaten today? You look like oat milk,” Mama says while trying to give me crackers from her plastic bag.
“I don’t want anything,” I say pushing her hand away.
“Don’t faint walking down the aisle,” she says warningly, like it’s a choice.
“Relax, you’re driving everyone insane,” Zia snaps. “Let the poor girl breath.” Zia fixes my tiara into place, and coos, “Bellissima.” Then asks, “are you nervous about tonight?”
“Tonight?” I say frowning.
“Your wedding night,” she says bluntly.
“Oh, I hadn’t thought about it that much,” I lie.
“Rocco looks like he knows what to do so I wouldn’t be worried,” she smirks.
“Zia!” Mama says horrified. “We are in a church.”
“He’ll seek you out, so just be prepared for a tap of the shoulder deep into the night,” she tells knowingly as her nostrils flare.
“Can we change the subject?” I say, rolling my eyes
“I’m preparing you if rumors of the jackhammer are true—”
“How do you know about that?” I ask, shocked.
“I know everything,” she snorts.
“Just remember to act like a lady,” Mama replies primly.
