Page 88 of The Billionaire's Pact

The Mass ended and we left our seats for a blessing, sacrament and prayer. I used mine to let go of my sorrow, but also prayed for Rocco. I save one for me, to be strong and endure all that was to come.

Rocco put on classical music and drove us away into the country once we returned to the car to head for the wedding venue. It was another one of his surprises. I was keen to find out where we were going. We passed olive and hazelnut trees and vineyard fields along the winding road and hills before I spotted a sign for Chianti.

“Chianti, we’re getting married in Tuscany,” I announced joyously, clasping my hands.

“Who says were going to stop there?” Rocco said in a monotone.

I peered over at him. His expression was unreadable.

“Rocco,” I sang out.

He broke into a laugh and my heart skipped a beat. The wind picked up, and before I closed the window, I placed my hand out of it to feel the hot breeze, inhaling the sweet scent of flowers and fruit baking in the sun. Rocco once said after the wedding he thought about us moving to Malibu, but if I had a choice, I’d stay right here in Italy. It was the place I felt the most free. Then again, I’d be too far away from Jacob.

The castle came into view before we reached it—a stunning medieval stone magnum opus carved into a hill. It was well maintained, the rectangular and dome towers intact, and surrounded by lush green trees. I was utterly in awe. Rocco stopped at the base and when he clasped my hand, an electrical jolt flared from his touch. I merely thought to glance at him, but our eyes held, and my heart pounded.

“It’s incredibly beautiful,” I said hoarsely.

He smiled. “It’s perfect.”

“Is that why you chose it?” I asked.

“Yes, because it’s the best.”

The best. That’s all he cares about. What things look like, is not how they feel.

I swallowed. “Yeah, it is.”

He let go of my hand and touched my chin. “What’s wrong, Adelina?”

I hid my eyes. “Nothing.” Nothing you want to hear. “I’m…I’m excited, that’s all.”

“No, there’s something else bothering you. Tell me what it is.”

I peered at him through my lashes. “How do you know?”

“I think I know a happy Adelina by now.”

I cocked a brow. “Oh, do you?”

His lips curved upward, and my pulse picked up. “You’re radiant when you’re happy. There’s a pure sweetness to it.”

His praise brought on a spell of its own. I could feel myself wanting to give him what he wanted, but it was my happiness, not his. Was he doing all of this because he wanted to or because it was the best?

I sighed and averted my eyes. “I wish I knew when you are genuinely happy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked with surprise in his tone. “I usually am.”

I didn’t answer.

He checked his watch. “Our wedding planner is waiting for us.”

“Then let’s not keep him waiting.”

We pulled up in a contemporary parking space, and taking a quick walk across the short bridge, we stepped back in time. A man ahead of us introduced himself as Will our wedding planner, and escorted us to a garden surrounded by the castle’s spires.

“There will be a carpet path with flowers where a platform will be set for your formal blessing and photos with the family,” Will enthused.

He brought us forward to review a row of sketches on easels. There was a drawing of a piano and string quartet along with a couple surrounded by lights and vines of green leaves and flowers. There were rows of chairs for the ceremony. It was all exquisite. We moved to the interior courtyard for our reception, which already had long, cloth covered tables in place with candles and flowers.

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