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One week later
Leah clings to my hand like she might float away if she lets go. I know the feeling. Knotting our fingers together, I tow her through the chapel doorway, the blanket of stars above the De Rossi grounds replaced with the glow of hundreds of candles.
“In here. Quickly.”
“What’s the rush, Falasca?” She’s giggling and breathless, one hand holding the long, white skirt of her dress above the stone tiled floor. “Are you scared Santo will hear that you borrowed his priest without asking?”
Ha. “No, I’m scaredyoumight change your mind.”
My tone is light, but my gut clenches at the words. The last week together has been a dream, the happiest I’ve ever been, and Santo’s been rolling his eyes non stop at the way I’ve been floating through our strategy meetings like a love struck teenager. I’ve never been surer about anything in my whole life than Leah, but maybe she doesn’t feel the same.
One week to a wedding—that’s rushed, even in the mob.
Does she really want this? My steps slow down.
“If you want to wait a while longer, we can go back to the house. You can change your mind, bella.”
But Leah snorts, and already I’m ten pounds lighter. “Shut up, Falasca. We’re getting married tonight. I spent ages on this hair, and there’s no way I’ll fit in this dress after the holidays.”
I drag my gaze down her body, hungry and appreciative. Oh yeah, she looks good draped in ivory silk. Like a goddess.
Leah tugs on my hand as we stroll up the aisle together. “Areyousure you don’t want to wait for Raul to come back? He could be your best man.”
I shake my head, because god knows how long the doctor will be away. He disappeared a week ago along with Allegra. No idea what’s going on there, but I’ll bet it’s messy, and who wants to wade into that?
Besides, I made other arrangements. The priest is waiting at the altar, stifling a yawn at the late hour, and Santo’s right hand man Diego stands beside him, ready to play witness. He rolled his eyes when I asked him for this favor earlier today, but the savage fucker is wearing a buttonhole. He’s slicked back his dark hair too, and trimmed his beard. Softie.
“Don’t we need two witnesses…” Leah trails off when a figure stands at the front pew, brushing down his embroidered blue waistcoat. Icy blue eyes glance back in our direction, tracking our progress. “Oh my god.”
“I did ask about borrowing the priest,” I confess as we near the front of the chapel. “Why push our luck?”
Santo smirks.
“Right,” Leah rasps. “Ha. Okay. Well, then maybe you could hold this for me, Mr De Rossi?”
Santo blinks down at the tablet pushed into his hands, a grainy video feed of Leah’s Aunt Karen playing on the screen. The older woman is squinting at the camera, decked out in a vivid purple kaftan, her image frozen in a grimace.
“Don’t worry about the feed,” Leah says brightly. “She’s used to it cutting out, but I figured we should at least try.”
The mob boss stares at the tablet, nonplussed. Diego claps him on the shoulder. “Good man.”
The priest clears his throat, and the old guy sounds kind of strangled.
“Not a word about this,” Santo warns the priest, low and deadly. We all move into position, Leah’s hand still clutched in mine, and Santo aims the tablet toward us, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “I could have you all killed,” he mutters into the stone quiet of the chapel.
“Mr De Rossi,” the priest blusters, a flush creeping above his collar, but Leah laughs, high and bright, and the whole chapel feels warmer.
She’ll fit in just fine, and more than that—she’ll make us all better.
Especially me.
“Dearly beloved…”
Green eyes sparkle up at mine, and I squeeze Leah’s fingers. Her diamond ring is safe in Diego’s pocket, and nerves squirm in my gut. This is it. As the priest drones on, I wink at my girl and jerk my head up at the ceiling.
She follows my gaze then breaks into a huge smile, because high above us where I hung it this morning, there it is.
