Page 64 of His to Have
“The ceremony was beautiful!”
The well-wishes came from all angles — distant cousins, family friends, business associates whose names I’d probably forget by morning. Teo accepted each handshake like the absolute boss that he was and the kisses on the cheek with the same charming smile. All while I found myself falling into the rhythm of being “Mrs. Donatelli” in public.
By the time we made it to the head table both sets of parents stood together, each with a flute in their hand.
“My beautiful daughter-in-law,” Rita stepped forward, her arms opening wide as she pulled me into an embrace thatsmelled like expensive perfume and maternal love. When she released me, she turned to Teo. “And my son, looking so handsome.”
“Thank you, Mama,” he said softly, sounding almost like a boy rather than the grown man I knew him to be.
Marco followed her embrace with a clap to Teo’s shoulders. “Couldn’t be prouder of both of you. This is exactly what our family needed.” He embraced both of us. Then, as if on cue, my father toasted, “The bride and groom.” He lifted his flute, encouraging the group to do the same. “This is truly a joyous occasion. My daughter, and now my son.” He reached out, clasping Teo’s hand firmly, pulling him into one of those manly hugs, which Teo returned without hesitation.
It didn’t surprise me, they’d always had a good relationship. Though hindsight is 20/20. Now I understood why. When my father pulled away, he flexed his fingers, then wrapped them around my mother who stood close by.
“It is indeed.” Teo glanced down at me, making my mother smile widely.
“This union will prove to be beneficial for both our families. Our enemies—”
“Sam.” My mother’s voice was smooth, but the side-eye was sharp. “No business talk today. It’s their wedding day for goodness sake.”
A small chuckle rumbled from both Teo and my father. But my mother was not playing based on the wrinkles in her forehead, and crease at the corner of her lips.
Samuel Reed wasn't afraid of many things but knew Antoinette Reed didn’t play when it came to protecting family moments.
“Of course, dear.” He conceded, placing a kiss to her cheek. “I was just making an observation, baby.”
“Mm-hmm.” She arched a brow, lips twitching despite herself.
“Samuel, always strategizing.”
I turned toward the unfamiliar voice approaching our circle. His movements were fluid and deliberate. Everything about him screamed power, all the way down to the Italian leather shoes gliding against the grass. Even the conversation seemed to come to a pause on his arrival.
He embraced my mother first. “It’s good to see you, Antoinette.” A respectful kiss to her cheek before extending his hand to my father.
“Congratulations are in order.” He finally took Teo and I in. “A powerful union. Your partnership will strengthen us all.” The man said.
“Your words honor us, Gianni.” Teo said, stepping forward to shake his hand.
This was Gianni?
I’d heard the name countless times growing up, vaguely remember seeing him at various events, but I’d never been formally introduced. Never had a reason to be in his presence, unlike the Donatelli’s, who always felt like extended family. Again, now I understand. When your daughter is promised to one family, you don’t let her cultivate deep ties with the others.
“We’re all looking forward to seeing how you two will lead us into a new era.” Gianni continued, his gaze shifting between Teo and me. “Unity like this lasts decades, benefits everyone. It creates legacies.”
A loud huff of air escaped my mother before she began shaking her head. “Do y’all ever take a day off from business?” There was no real malice behind her question, but her exasperation was real. “The kids just got married, for goodness’ sake.”
Rita laughed, linking her arm through my mother’s.
They never change, do they? Forty years of marriage and Marco still discusses operations at breakfast.”
Marco shrugged with a grin. “Old habits, ladies.”
Gianni chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender. “I apologize. You’re right. Tonight is about celebrating.”
“What’s so funny?” A sugary sweet voice, I was beginning to loathe slid into the conversation. “I hope you’re not discussing anything too important without me. You know how I hate being left out of family matters.” Her laugh was light and playful, but I caught the way her jaw tightened slightly.
She held two glasses, a tumbler of amber whiskey and her flute of the plentiful champagne that was flowing around.
“Here, Papà,” she handed him the tumbler, while taking Gianni’s flute. “I thought you could use something stronger than champagne tonight.”
