Page 45 of Beauty and the Boss

MICHAEL

I appraise myself in the guest room’s full-length mirror. I’m wearing a brand new black bespoke tuxedo with a crisp white shirt and black bow tie. I nod and pull down the corners of my mouth as I button up my jacket; I think I look good! I hope Cecelia approves. I check the time: only one more hour until I see her walking down the aisle toward me. Knowing that she’s getting ready in her own bedroom on the other side of the landing is sending my imagination into overdrive, and it’s taking every bit of willpower I have not to sneak over there and ‘accidentally’ interrupt her putting her bridal underwear on. Giggling, she gave me a sneaky peek after her shopping trip last week, just a glimpse of it on the hanger, and that peek was enough for me to throw her on the bed and indulge in the quickest of quickies while Connie, Micah and Dante were waiting for us downstairs, hands clamped over each other’s mouths, so our moans of pleasure didn’t give us away.

We’ve been making love even more than usual lately. Quickies and slowies. Fast and frenzied leaving us panting and spent, and slow and indulgent leaving us sated and entwined and deeply connected. We know every single inch of each other intimately by now. The night we got engaged we decided to try for a baby. I proposed to her officially at a family party at my house a week after Micah’s kidnapping. As I slipped the ruby and diamond engagement ring on her finger after she said yes, we tore our gazes away from each other just long enough to watch the fireworks I had organized, our little boy nestled between us, and we just knew that another baby would make our happiness complete. We’ve been trying ever since—here, in my office, in my (soon to be our) house amongst the renovation and redecoration chaos, in the car, in hotels—and although it hasn’t happened yet I’m hoping that it will soon. A little brother or sister for Micah would be such a blessing.

Lighting a cigarette, I cross over to one of the tall windows and look out to the garden and the huge marquee that was erected yesterday. Dante’s house has been a hive of activity for the past two days and various people, including Maria the DeMarcos’ maid, are running back and forth in the sunshine between the patio and the marquee, fetching and carrying flowers and decorations and other essential wedding paraphernalia. I’m reassured to see our security staff positioned around the grounds too. Although Sonny Ricci and Raphael Lombardi are no longer direct threats, my family are far too precious not to protect full time.

As I smoke, I smile at the scene below; the time and effort Cece and Connie have put into planning this wedding has certainly paid off. And it’s brought the sisters even closer too, even though I didn’t think that was possible. Since Micah’s kidnapping, alongside organizing this wedding down to the very last detail, Connie and Cece have set up The DeMarco Foundation, their own charity for kidnap and rape victims. Connie’s previous charity work has meant they’ve already got a wide network of contacts and they’re already planning fundraising events for later in the year. I’m so proud of them both.

There’s a knock at the door and Gianni enters the room. “All set, boss?” he asks.

“Looking sharp, Gi,” I tell him as I blow smoke out of the window, and he does. My most loyal associate is acting as my best man today as these last few months we’ve become good friends as well as business partners. And I mean proper, legitimate business not overseen by the Sicilian outfit, which I no longer run. My mob days are over. Once Dante gave Cecelia and I his blessing, and after Micah and I got the all-clear from the hospital, my future father-in-law and I sat down together and talked frankly about everything. It was a good talk, albeit emotional at times, and it gave us a rock-solid foundation on which to build. And building we are—two hotels with in-house restaurants, in fact, for starters. Owned and run by Dante, Gianni, and myself.

Gianni opens his tux jacket wide and gives a little twirl. I laugh. It’s good to see him like this, although I have a feeling it’s got more to do with my soon to be sister-in-law than because of today’s celebration or the business side of our lives going so well. They met when Connie came by Cinque Anni to pick up all the champagne for mine and Cece’s engagement party. My elbow was still in a cast and a sling after my warehouse fight with Sonny, so Gi gave her a hand carrying it out to the car. I introduced them properly and that, as they say, was that. Hook, line, and sinker for them both.

“Do you want your wedding present now or later?” Gianni asks me.

I look at him quizzically. “What present? You didn’t have to get us anything.”

“Well, it’s not a present as such but it’s something I can give you,” he says cryptically.

“Go on then.”

“Bit of news. According to my sources, Lombardi’s been getting a bit mouthy in prison, and he’s rubbed a couple of the big boys up the wrong way. Landed himself a broken jaw for his trouble. Not so mouthy anymore.” He grins.

I grin back. “You’re right, Gi. That bit of news is a very welcome gift today. Thanks.”

I breathe out a slow plume of smoke, grateful to have left that whole mess behind us. A few days after the kidnapping, after I had given my official statement, Detective Russo confirmed that I wouldn’t face any criminal charges in relation to Sonny’s injuries as he deemed I acted in self-defense. And Cecelia pressed charges against Lombardi for her attempted rape, which he was then found guilty of in court. He was sentenced to twelve years in total for that and the kidnapping. Sonny got eight. I know that Cecelia especially finds comfort from the fact they’re both safely behind bars now. I won’t mention Gianni’s news today though; not even Lombardi’s name is welcome anywhere near our wedding.

“Papa! Papa!” I hear Micah as I crush out my cigarette in the ashtray then I see him arrive in the doorway with Connie appearing behind him, laughing. He is dressed just like me in a mini tux with a bow tie, and I scoop him into my now healed arm.

“Look at you, my handsome boy!” I say, nuzzling his neck.

Connie also looks incredible in her red silk bridesmaid’s dress. And of course it was always going to be red—Cece’s favorite color.

“Wow!” says Gianni and gives his girlfriend a whistle of appreciation. Connie blushes the same shade as her dress, but she looks delighted as she accepts his kiss on her cheek, their fingers intertwining. They make a great couple and I know that Cece is incredibly happy for them both too.

Micah tries to copy Gianni’s whistle but blows a raspberry instead, looking bemused as we all laugh heartily.

“I’ve brought your buttonholes,” says Connie, handing me a small box containing two red rose buttonholes for our lapels. “And your driver is ready to take you to the church whenever you are. We won’t be far behind you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to the bride!”

“Thank you, Connie,” I say as I place Micah back down and kiss her cheek too. “Tell Cece I love her, and I can’t wait to see her.”

“I certainly will, brother-in-law,” she says, throwing an excited smile over her shoulder as she leads Micah out of the room.

Gianni and I fasten our buttonholes and I take one last look in the mirror.

“You got the rings?” I ask him.

He pats his pocket and nods then puts steady hands on my shoulders. “Ready, boss?”

“I’ve been ready for this day for five years, Gi,” I reply.

My best man and I arrive at the traditional church on the edge of the cliff top overlooking the sea. As we climb out of the Rolls Royce, I take in the picturesque view beyond the low wall of the church boundary, and as beautiful as it is, the only thought running through my head is that when I leave here today, Cecelia will be my wife. That magical moment cannot come soon enough. Gianni and I greet the well-dressed guests who are milling around the cobbled walkway to the church and as everyone takes their seats inside, I take my place at the altar, standing tall and awaiting my bride.

The organ music begins to play, and I turn to see Micah and Connie holding hands beyond the many rows of pews. Connie encourages Micah to walk forwards and my son beams as he strides down the aisle throwing red rose petals from a basket, cuteness personified, gathering complimentary comments and new admirers along the way. As he reaches me, I squat down to give him a cuddle.

“Good job, buddy,” I say, kissing him and giving him a thumbs-up.

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