Page 37 of His to Keep
I screw my nose up. “No offense, Lorenzo, but I think I’ll stick with the devil I know.”
“Good for you,bella.Gio is a better choice.” He leans toward me conspiratorially. “Never tell him I said that.”
When I pretend to zip my mouth shut and throw away the key, Lorenzo laughs. He leads me out onto a beautiful paved terrace. At the end of it, there’s a small rectangular table with a white cloth draped over it. A pile of papers sits on top of it, a marriage contract and other legal forms, I imagine.
Floral displays have been set up at either side of the table. It’s simple but pretty and I’ve always loved roses. Gio is standing there looking good enough to eat in a tailored black suit. It gives me the same tingle deep inside as I had when I first saw him back at the hotel. Was that really only a couple of days ago? It feels like a lifetime.
The man standing next to him must be Damiano. Though taller and broader, his resemblance to Lorenzo is undeniable. The third man, who must be at least eighty, is clearly a priest.
As Lorenzo leads me toward the group, Gio turns and stares at me with such intensity in his eyes, I feel it deep in my soul. He isn’t marrying me out of some sense of obligation, but because he truly wants to. The thought warms me and then I realize there’s an issue.
“That’s a priest,” I mutter as we get closer.
“Si,” Lorenzo agrees. “Our family priest.”
“But I’m not a Catholic.”
Lorenzo shrugs indolently. “That’s okay. The paperwork is the important part. He’s just window dressing.”
Well, that’s one way to diminish the man’s importance. Realizing my not being baptized won’t cause an issue, I smile as we reach Gio. I untangle myself from Lorenzo’s arm. Without prompting, the priest begins the ceremony. Thankfully, it’s in English so I can understand what I’m agreeing to.
As the sermon continues I decide I’d prefer it if he spoke in Italian even if I couldn’t follow what was being said. English is clearly not a language the old man is confident with because he plods through the ceremony at a snail’s pace expounding on the virtues of love, fidelity, and procreation, something I don’t even want to think about right now.
Eventually he gets to the vows. When it comes to my turn to recite them, I speak clearly, congratulating myself on my ability to sound composed under pressure. I promise to love, honor, and cherish Gio, grateful that he didn’t try to sneak a promise ofobedience in there. When we’re pronounced husband and wife, Gio kisses me. It’s tender and loving. I sink into him, and he deepens the kiss. Just as we’re on the verge of being carried away, the buzzing of someone’s cell phone distracts me. I pull back from Gio and see that it’s Damiano who’s receiving a call.
“Excuse me.” He looks agitated. “I must take this.”
As he strides off onto the perfectly manicured lawn at the back of the villa, Gio and I sign the paperwork to make the marriage legal. I don’t understand a word of it since it’s all in Italian. Since I’m already putting a lot of faith in Gio to be good to me, I decide to trust him with this too. Lorenzo steps in for Damiano, who’s still on his phone call, and signs as a witness. He invites Rosalia to do the same.
“Gio!” Damiano calls him over.
“Sorry, kitten.” Gio kisses my cheek. “I’d better see what he wants.”
As Lorenzo puts an arm around the priest’s shoulder and leads him away, Rosalia envelops me in a hug. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” I glance over to where Damiano and Gio appear to be in a heated discussion. “What do you suppose that’s about?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Her tone suggests otherwise. “Should I bring the cake out?”
“There’s cake?”
“Of course.SignoreVolante… Damiano that is, owns a restaurant in town. The pastry chef is renowned for his chocolate work.”
Though I’m doubtful chocolate will survive the heat, I won’t turn down cake. “Yes, bring it out.”
Rosalia heads back into the house, leaving me alone on the terrace. I scan the gardens and freeze as two people come around the side of the house, heading toward me. Though I’m vaguely aware one of them is a woman, I can’t focus on her. It’s the tall, fair-haired man who steals all my attention.
A chill sweeps through my entire body. Suddenly Gio is at my side, wrapping an arm around me as my legs threaten to give way.
“Eilidh,” he says, his voice urgent. “Eilidh, it’s okay.”
“No.” The word is a distant echo. “No, it’s not.”
As the newcomers finally reach me, I fear I’m about to throw up.
“Eilidh.” His voice is gravellier than I remember. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”
“No.” I say firmly as I try to get to grips with my older brother standing in front of me after all this time believing he was dead. I guess I now know what secret people were keeping from me. “No.”
