Page 48 of Forced Arrangement

“I do want it,” I tell her. “All of it. Even the horrible parts. I don’t know what that means about me.”

Justine smiles softly. “It means you’re a tough cookie,” she says fondly, leaning over my shoulder to press a kiss to my cheek. “I’m proud of you.”

I feel a bit warmer hearing her praise. I put on some lipstick as Justine finishes her work on my hair.

“Are you going to tell Angelo about…you know?” Justine says to me, stepping back to look at her work.

“I have to, I know,” I say with a sigh. “But I want it to be the right time before I do. We have so much to worry about right now. There’s no room for one more worry. And I need to be able to do my job. No one will take me seriously if I’m pregnant, Justine.”

“I hate all the big-dick energy crap around here,” Justine says tartly, and I giggle. “Well, I do!” she insists.

“You did wonder over and over what was in the water around here,” I chide her.

“Big dick energy?” she says with a laugh. “Maybe thatiswhat makes them all hot…and so scared of women.”

“What about Franco?” I ask her carefully, rising from my spot in front of the mirror and wandering carefully across the room to put on my shoes. Thankfully I owned a variety of white heels that were all perfect for an impromptu wedding.

She’s quiet for a moment and when I look over my shoulder at her, she’s decidedly pink. “Big dick, eh?” I quip and she dissolves into giggles.

“And how,” she agrees, pressing a hand to her mouth as she stifles her laughter.

I roll my eyes. “Well, I’m glad you weren’t disappointed,” I say.

She shakes her head. “Not at all, but it’s more than that,” she tells me. “He’s so kind. I know he doesn’t seem that way, but he has a heart of gold hiding under all that bravado.”

A couple of weeks ago, I would have argued with her about this, but I realize that she’s right. Franco has been willing to take care of both myself and Justine for weeks now, and he hasn’t complained or shirked his duties. I know he has other things to do with his time, but he’s always around when we need him, always eager to do what is necessary.

And his loyalty to Angelo is important to me as well. I know all too well how hard it is to trust the people around you when you’re the don. Franco is entirely trustworthy and I’m grateful for it in every way.

“Come on,” I say to Justine. “Time to get this taken care of.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” Justine says with a little grimace.

I laugh lightly. “Sorry. I’m just…focused on what comes next.”

“Your wedding should be special,” my friend says sadly to me. “You shouldn’t have to feel like you’re just going through the motions.”

“Maybe someday we can renew our vows at some kind of beautiful beachy location or something,” I say with a shrug. “You know me, J. I’m not a romantic, not really. I care about trust and I can trust Angelo. That’s enough for me for now.”

We make our way out into the living room and I see that Angelo has his back to us. He’s talking to the Catholic priest he has gotten to marry us. Franco, however, is looking right at us and his eyes widen with appreciation as he takes in Justine in the beautiful silky blue dress she put on.

He clears his throat and Angelo notices the sound. He turns, and his eyes land on me. His light green eyes widen in surprise and a sudden flare of heat makes my core clench with sharp desire.

The designer suit he is wearing flows over his lean, muscular frame perfectly, and his glasses make him look like some kind of computer genius or NASA engineer rather than a mafia boss. He looks good enough to eat, and my eyes travel hungrily from his long, strong legs to his broad shoulders, finally locking onto his green eyes that are filled with heat.

The priest moves to greet me, taking my hands in his slightly cold, dry fingers. “I knew your father well,” he says to me. “I christened you, as a matter of fact.” He steps back and looks at me without releasing my hands. I swear that I see tears in his eyes. “Your father would be so proud of how beautiful and strong you have grown up to be.”

I’m not religious at all, never went to church as a kid, but I appreciate the affection I can feel coming from the priest. I realize how many other people missed out on my childhood who might otherwise have been able to bear witness to it. This man isjust one of the many people who still remember me fondly and who never got to see me grow up.

I ponder this, thinking of the tiny life nestled within me. Will he or she get the chance to stay in one place, to grow up safely? Will they get to know this man when they are christened? Will they play with Franco, ride bikes with Angelo, learn to bake with me?

It’s hard to imagine a normal childhood. I hope that I’m capable of being a good mother to this child.

“It’s lovely to meet you,” I say to the old man holding my hands. I glance over at Angelo, who is still staring at me, rooted in place by the windows.

“Come,bella,” the priest says to me, leading me toward Angelo. “Let’s get you two kids married.”

“Oh, one moment!” Franco says abruptly, hurrying from the room.

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