Page 68 of Double Trouble for the Mafia Prince
After the girls are settled and the nanny arrives to watch them through the night, I step out onto the private terrace to breathe and sit down on a chair.
I haven't bothered to take off my dress yet.
The night has turned cool, and the sky above is clear. A few stars have pushed past the clouds.
Dante joins me, a glass of amber liquid in his hand.
He sits beside me and just sips once and sets it down on the railing.
"Well," he says, "that was a hell of a day."
I look at him with a lopsided little grin.
"You think?"
Without bothering with formalities, I take his glass and sip the drink, relishing the sweet and surprisingly buttery-rich moreish mouthfeel.
He nods slowly.
"Better than I expected. Worse than I wanted."
That pulls a low laugh from me.
He isn’t wrong.
The alcohol makes everything quieter.
Not in the way that numbs, but in the way that softens the edges.
I take another sip, letting it warm my chest.
The breeze off the terrace smells of night jasmine and the faint smoke of celebratory cigars.
I can still hear laughter trailing from the upper hall.
Some of the older uncles have found the grappa stash.
Luca is likely playing diplomat, and Valentina has probably spirited away the children by now.
In the last hour of the ceremony, a tightness had formed in my throat, a strange ache that pressed at the corners of my heart as I watched my girls cling to a man who once would have vanished rather than be tied down.
But he hasn’t vanished.
And he is still here, sitting next to me in the hush of our wedding night, legs spread, hand cradling a glass he hasn’t touched in minutes.
He shifts slightly, his thigh brushing mine.
Not enough to startle.
Just enough to make me feel it.
"So," I say after a long silence, "this is it. Married."
He lets out a breath that could almost be a laugh.
"I didn’t think you’d let me put a ring on you. Figured you’d sooner run."
I smile despite myself.
