Page 11 of Prideful Union
“Lucia,” she warns.
My future bride mumbles under her breath as she leaves the room.
Giulia turns back to me. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”
“There’s a rumor I’ve heard,” I say, fiddling with my cufflinks. “A rumor I need to know the truth about. I need to make sure Lucia’s reputation is pristine and nothing will come back onto me.”
“All right.”
“I’ve heard a rumor going around that Lucia and Luca are not your late husband’s children. That they may, in fact, be your brother-in-law’s children. What do you have to say about that?”
Giulia shakes her head. “No. That’s preposterous. Lucia and Luca are Riccardo’s children, not Franco’s. That’s a rumor made up by men who like to say nasty things about women. I wouldn’t give them any thought, especially as a man as dignified as you.”
I smirk. I know when someone’s trying to flatter me, and Giulia is desperately trying to do it. Which means she really doesn’t want me to believe the rumor, which means it could be real.
But because I don’t know for sure, I have no way of knowing because both Riccardo and Franco are dead, and I can’t compare Lucia’s DNA to either of them, I’ll have to take Giulia at her word.
“All right, then,” I say. “I’ll be off now. Tell Lucia to meet tomorrow to go shopping for her wedding dress. I’m going to pick out.”
Giulia looks taken aback. “Um, are you sure? I think Lucia would like to pick her own wedding dress.”
“No. I want Lucia to wear what I want her to wear. Have her meet me. Tell her not to be late.” With that, I leave.
Lucia arrivesat the bridal shop an hour behind schedule.
I’m fuming when she walks inside. “I told you to be here on time.”
“I wasn’t?” She bats her large eyes. “Oh. Interesting. You want to know what else is interesting? When you were an hour late for my party. That was interesting.”
“I’m finding you a wedding dress,” I tell her, sidestepping her comment. “You’re going to wear what I pick out for you.”
“No, I’m not. I’m going to pick my own dress.” She charges on ahead before I can get a word in.
While Lucia looks at wedding dresses, I go over to the shop assistant and have her put a dress in Lucia’s changing room. “This one,” I tell her, handing over a satin gown with thin straps for sleeves and a slit up the side. It’s elegant and feminine. Simple. The way I like my women.
The shop assistant, who’s name is Sabrina, tells me it’s no problem.
“Just don’t tell my future bride I chose that dress. Tell her you did.”
Sabrina frowns but doesn’t argue. The client is always right.
I settle into a seat and watch Lucia grab dress after dress and hand it to a different shop assistant. The poor woman looks overworked and stressed.
I walk over. “You don’t need to try on this many wedding dresses, Lucia.”
“I want to.” She hands another to the assistant. “And I’m going to.”
“You’re not the one paying.”
“And you’re the not the one who’s going to be wearing it.” She nods at the assistant. “Follow me.” She leaves me standing there to go try on her dresses.
When she comes back out in a huge, fluffy princess dress, I almost shudder. “No,” I tell her. “That’s hideous.”
“No. I think it’s beautiful.”
“Try on something else.”
Lucia rolls her eyes and huffs as she stalks off the platform to try on another dress. I smirk. She’s a lot to handle, but I can do it. I’m going to put this girl in her place sooner or later.
