Page 77 of The Temptation
I stifle a snort, pressing my lips together.
Lucia beams, completely unfazed, like she didn’t just say exactly what everyone else always dances around.
And damn it, I love her for doing it.
There’s that fucking word again.
She turns her attention back to me and reaches for her flowers.
“Thank you,” she whispers, her fingers brushing against mine. Her eyes briefly peruse down my body, and then she adds, “You look hot, by the way.”
And you look like every man’s fantasy.
A walking, talking fucking wet dream.
The words hit me like a jolt, and before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “So do you.”
She arches a brow, amused as her lips curve into a smirk like she’s just caught me off guard. And she’d be right, she did.
Clutching the bouquet in both hands, she turns to face Father Flannery again. “I’m ready to marry the man of my dreams now.”
When her gaze briefly moves back to me and she beams, my heart begins to thump furiously against my ribcage.
Her smile is wide, carefree and real, with no games or tension behind it, just Lucia, open and radiant.
Those chocolate-brown orbs of hers are sparkling with no hidden agenda, threat, or those tiny lasers that occasionally shoot out of her eyeballs.
All I see is pure, simple joy. And fuck me if I don’t feel the exact same way.
An hour later, we finally reach the part that will tie us together for the foreseeable future.
Despite the relaxed and unconventional setting, Father Flannery wanted the ceremony to include a full mass. It’s not something I was thrilled about, but he really showed up for me today, so I couldn’t deny his one wish. He said it was important for our marriage to start off on the right foot. He has no idea that it’s fake.
When he turns to me and asks if I have the rings, I see a slight panic rise on Lucia’s pretty face.
“I do,” I say, shoving my hand into my pocket and pulling out two simple, gold wedding bands.
He nods in approval as he places them down in the centre crease of the bible he’s holding.
When my gaze moves back to Lucia, I find her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. I reach for her free hand, wrapping her delicate fingers in mine before giving them a light squeeze.
I’ve been to a few weddings over the years. Some stuck to the traditional vows, while others wrote their own. I wasn’t sure if my bride planned to add any of that signature Lucia flair to ours, so I wrote something myself, just in case. The words are folded neatly on a piece of paper, tucked safely in my pocket.
“Repeat after me,” Father Flannery says. “I, Lucia Gabriella Rossi, take you, Romeo Gabriel De Luca, to be my husband.”
Lucia and I both share a look the moment we realise how similar our middle names are.Gabriella and Gabriel.It’s such a small detail, but it feels oddly significant.
What’s even freakier? Gabriel was my father’s name, and it was given to me in honour of him after he passed away. I distinctly remember Lucia telling Alexander at the hospital that Caterina’s middle name, also Gabriella, was in honour of her mother.
Her mother. My father.
Different sides of our lives, and completely different stories. Probably just a coincidence, but it feels like something bigger is at play here, like the universe has been weaving this thread long before we ever crossed paths. And for a second, I don’t know if that thought is comforting or oddly terrifying.
Lucia’s eyes remain locked with mine as she repeats every word. “I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honour you all the days of my life.”
Each word she speaks is laced with such sincerity that, for a moment, I let myself believe that this is real and isn’t just some arrangement or illusion. That she is mine to keep for all eternity.
But deep down, I know better.
