Page 130 of Forging Caine

“You know he’s perfect for me, right?”

“I know.” He smiled. “Are you happy?”

I was in a white dress, with the people I loved all around me, about to marry the man of my dreams. There were job offers from the FBI and Ferraro’s, both the exact work I wanted to do. And I’d survived the smuggling ring. “More than I can remember.”

‘The Wedding March’ streamed through speakers all around us.

“That’s good enough for me.” Nathan pulled down my veil and held out his elbow. “Let’s get you married.”

When we came around the corner, through the open doors, my breath caught. White walls, white folding chairs, and dim sconces. The ceiling above was dark, with a million pinpricks of light—either a huge skylight showing the stars or a projector.

My gaze settled on the front, at Antonio in a black tuxedo. The impeccable tailoring highlighted his broad chest and shoulders, but it was his face I couldn’t get enough of. The cheekbones, the strong jaw, the hair I still loved running my fingers through. It felt like velvet at the nape of his neck.

“Sam,” whispered Nathan.

A murmur spread through the crowd. Right. There was a crowd.

“What?”

Nathan chuckled in my ear. “We’re supposed to be walking.”

I bit down on my lip. The tackiness of my lipstick reminded me I was messing up my makeup. “I know. It’s a little overwhelming.”

Antonio’s chest swelled with a deep inhale and he mouthed to me on the exhale,Breathe.

Easy for him to say. He knew this was going to happen. I was still busy with my head swimming. That was probably his plan all along, to ensure I didn’t turn around and run.

When we reached the front, Nathan lifted my veil, kissed my cheek, and shook Antonio’s hand. For the first time, the two seemed genuinely happy to see each other. Maybe my joy really was enough for Nathan, especially now that Antonio and I weren’t watching over our shoulders anymore.

“Ciao, bella,” whispered Antonio, as I took my place next to him. “Did you see the screens at the back?”

I craned my neck around, the veil catching on the dress. “Oh my god.”

Another murmur rose from the crowd. I was apparently the entertainment for the evening. Huge televisions covered the back walls above the heads of the guests. Each screen was divided into squares, floating heads and smiling faces filling them. Janelle, Chiara, Giovanni and his family, a ton of people I didn’t recognize—several bearing a striking resemblance to one or more of Antonio’s family. “Are they live?”

“They are.”

The officiant talked over us, as though disruptions were common in his chapel.

“I can’t believe you did all this.”

Antonio pressed a finger to his lips, then pointed forward. “Pay attention, amore.”

Of course he did all this. Because that’s what Antonio Ferraro did. He made miracles. Like cracking open the shell around my heart and bringing me back to life.

“I understand you’ve prepared your own vows?” said the officiant.

How did we get to that part so fast? For once, I didn’t want the distractions. I wanted to focus on the moment and remember it all. I wanted to remember the twinkling lights on the ceiling. The energy zipping around my chest. And the way my heart beat so hard it felt like it would explode. I wanted to remember the smile on Antonio’s face as he turned to look at me. On my sister’s face as she took my bouquet. And the feeling of his big, powerful hands around mine.

“Twelve years ago, I had a crush on a quiet, serious girl, who always sat at the front of my class. It took me all semester to work up the courage to ask my Roman Art Girl out.” He gave a dramatic sigh. “But she said no.”

The crowd chuckled.

“Through some miracle, that same girl—then a woman—came back into my life last year. Still quiet. Still serious. And when I asked for her name, she again said no.”

More quiet laughs rippled through the crowd.

“But through some sort of fate or coincidence—”

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