Page 108 of Bellini Born
“Patience,” I teased as I lowered her.
An incoming wave rolled over her tiny toes, and she sucked in a sharp breath, shocked by the frigid water, and instantly retracted her feet.
Laughing, I tucked her to my chest and used the hem of my shirt to dry any lingering droplets from her skin. “We’ll have to come back when it’s warmer.”
That thought gave me pause.
What if we didn’t go back to Chicago? What if we stayed here and left that life behind for good? Enzo could take over as Don until Gio’s return—if that ever happened—and the board could name a replacement as CEO of Bellini Real Estate. Relocating and staying off the grid would keep Summer and the girls safe permanently.
It was the perfect scenario. Except for the fact that it would make me look like a coward, and our enemies would view that as weakness, using it as the perfect opportunity to continue attacking those we’d abandoned in favor of our own safety. As the head of the organization, I couldn’t allow those who had served it faithfully to suffer at my expense.
At the end of the day, I was Bellini born, and there was no escaping my birthright.
I only prayed that we discovered who held that metaphorical gun to my head before they pulled the trigger.
Chapter 25
Summer
Standingbeforethefull-lengthmirror in the primary suite, I smoothed the fabric of my flowy white dress. It fit like a glove, a beautiful creation featuring lace appliques and long enough to cover the scars on my leg that would serve as a permanent reminder of the night I almost lost my life.
Matteo had snuck out before the sun came up this morning, but when I woke, there was a stack of velvet boxes resting atop his pillow. Inside, there was an array of glittering diamonds fashioned into drop earrings, a choker necklace, and, most ridiculous of all, a freaking tiara.
That particular piece of jewelry resting atop my head now was a reminder that today, I would officially become his queen. Though it was a far cry from the type of royalty portrayed in fairy tales.
There was a knock at the door, and I turned in time to see it cracked open and a tiny head poke through.
Bianca’s eyes widened, and her lips parted on an exhale. “Wow. You look like a princess.”
Smiling, I stepped toward her and dropped to one knee. “So do you.”
A blush rose to her cheeks as her eyes dropped to the ground, and she fidgeted with the skirt of her pink dress. “Papa said he’s not allowed to see you before the wedding.”
Who knew the mafia man was so traditional? Certainly not me before today.
“Did he send you in here to get me?”
She peeked up at me through her thick black lashes, “Mm-hmm.”
Rising to my full height, I extended a hand to the little girl whom I would love like my own until my dying day. “Then we better not keep him waiting.”
Since I wasn’t involved in the planning, I let Bianca lead me to where the private ceremony would be held. The doors to the main balcony off the living room were thrown open, and my heart tumbled over in my chest when I caught sight of Matteo standing near the railing. He was dapper as ever in one of his custom-tailored suits, holding Serafina, who wore a dress identical to her older sister’s.
Like he could sense my presence—or more likely, having heard my heels click on the marble flooring—his dark eyes lifted, and when they locked on mine, the most dazzling smile split his face. I swear I fell in love with him all over again.
“Here are your flowers.” Bianca’s voice had me breaking eye contact with Matteo.
The little girl handed me a bouquet containing an assortment of roses, ranunculus, and peonies in various shades of pink, interspersed with white. It gave off a soft, romantic vibe, and I couldn’t help but bring the blooms to my nose to inhale their intoxicating fragrance.
We might essentially be in hiding, cut off from the rest of the world, but Matteo had gone out of his way to make this day special, one we would never forget.
Bianca, holding a basket of loose petals in her hand, looked up at me and confessed, “It feels like there are butterflies in my belly.”
That makes two of us, kid.
A smile tugged onto my lips. “Are you more excited or nervous?”
She scrunched up her little nose. “Both?”
