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“Mr. and Mrs. Demachi, what a pleasure to meet you and under such happy circumstances.” She sounds sincere, but her statement is tinged with condescending sarcasm for my benefit, I’m sure.
It’s infuriating, but I ignore it and wrap my arms around my in-laws as they shake hands with my mother. “Jak and Shpresa have done an incredible job of pulling this event together at such short notice.” I kiss Shpresa’s cheek, and she flushes and quickly translates everything for her husband.
“Konteshë?” Jak says.
“Yes.”
“How do you do?” Shpresa says. “Please. Come.” Shpresa casts a curious glance at me and directs Jak to accompany my mother and her lover into the house.
“That was a bit rough.” Tom states the bloody obvious. “You okay, old boy?” He pats me on the back as we fall into line behind them.
“Yes,” I hiss. But it’s a lie. Taking a deep breath, I bury my anger and follow them into the house.
The Demachis have suspended their no-shoes policy for the day, and we stand in the hallway, which is frankly crowded now that my mother and Heath have joined us, and wait.
Jak squares his shoulders and, with a theatrical flourish, opens the door to the front room, and there in the center stands Alessia Demachi.
She’s a vision in lace, satin, and a soft diaphanous material, silhouetted by the light from the window. I stop and stare at the woman who will shortly become my wife and completely lose my train of thought. She’s gorgeous. With dark expressive eyes ringed in kohl, she looks a little more sophisticated, a little more… knowing, but demure and sexy as hell.
She takes my breath away.
Her gown is the epitome of elegance: a tight white satin corset covered in lace—lace over her shoulders and arms, and from her waist a skirt that flares softly. There are tiny pearl buttons at the front. Her hair is curled in a delicate updo beneath a fine, gossamer veil.
I realize I’m gawking, saving this moment so I’ll remember it for an eternity, and my throat has constricted in a knot of exhilaration, awe, and anticipation.
She looks every inch a goddess… no, a countess. My countess.
Dude, don’t get emotional.
Suddenly, I no longer care that what we’re doing may not be strictly legitimate. I’m just so glad and thankful that we’re doing this today. Here. Now.
“Hello again, beautiful. I could look at you all day.”
“And I you,” she whispers; her dark eyes, framed with the darkest, longest lashes, are vivid and intense, and I want to drown in her gaze.
I step forward and kiss her cheek. “You look stunning.” And I realize this is the first time I’ve seen her in makeup. She’s beautiful.
She strokes my lapel and smiles up at me. “So do you.”
“My mother’s here.”
Her eyes widen in shock.
“Yeah. Brace yourself,” I warn, for her ears only, then call, “Mother.” And Rowena enters the room. She’s removed her sunglasses, so she squints slightly as she observes the exquisite vision in front of her. “May I present Alessia Demachi.”
“Darling girl,” Rowena says and kisses her cheek, then stands back to scrutinize my fiancée in her usual myopic way.
“Lady Trevethick, how do you do?” Alessia responds.
“You speak English?” Rowena sounds surprised.
“Fluently,” Alessia replies, and I could fucking kiss her.
My girl has teeth.
Rowena nods and smiles. I think she’s impressed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you on such an auspicious day.”
“And you.”
It’s only then that I become aware of the others in the room. Alessia’s cousins, I think. And maybe a couple of her aunts.
“We’ll have plenty of time, after this expeditious wedding, to get to know each other. I look forward to it.” Rowena’s tone is neutral but friendly enough. “We’ll go and take our seats.” She turns and exits the room. As she does, I notice Alessia blow out a quick breath. Probably from relief. I take her hand and whisper in her ear.
“You were wonderful. Well done!”
“I did not know she was coming,” she whispers back.
“Me neither. A bit of a shock, to be honest. We can talk about it later. Shall we go and get married?”
She grins. “Yes.”
“Oh, I forgot. The tradition. I’m supposed to give you this.” From inside my jacket pocket, I remove a handkerchief. In it is a sugared almond. I hold it up to Alessia’s lips.
* * *
Maxim is mesmerizing, especially in his sharp, dark suit. She’s never seen him dressed this elegantly before, and he looks born to it.
But, of course he is. He’s an aristocrat.
His eyes shine a brilliant green as his gaze moves from her eyes to her mouth. His lips are slightly parted as Alessia licks, then presses her lips against the candy he’s holding. “Mmm,” she murmurs, and he shuts his eyes for a nanosecond, then pops the sweet in his mouth. The muscles deep in Alessia’s belly tighten, and she inhales sharply. He gives her a wicked grin full of sensual promise. It gives her an idea… for later when they’re finally alone together.
