Page 14 of The Leader

“How about this one?” Samantha tried once again. She’d been patiently trying to convince Jazzy to try on another dress. She could easily star inSay Yes To The Dress. “It’s a gorgeous handmade Dolce and Gabbana from silk. It has—”

“No, really. I’m going to wear my mother’s old dress. You can take yourDolcesomewhere else.”

Gina groaned and looked as if Jazzy had committed a crime against humanity. Then her cousin downed what was left of her champagne flute and left. Carmen only gave a faint smile from over her chair at the window.

“You know, not every woman dreams of a designer wedding dress,” Jazzy argued. “Or even of getting married at all. It’s because of fairy tales, and Disney, that girls are wired from a young age to want to become a princess wearing a tiara and puffy, pink dress.”

Samantha looked as if she’d spoken in an alien language. The poor woman looked crushed when she learned she was going to lose the commission for an expensive wedding gown. Feeling sorry for her, Jazzy picked silk underwear, heaps and heaps of underwear—so, she had a weakness for expensive lingerie—and a pair of white satin pumps, putting a smile on the woman’s face. After that, Samantha finally left.

Giovanni Detta hadn’t wasted any time in putting together the wedding, insisting it would be held at his place. Her grandfather had agreed, as he seemed to agree to anything concerning Detta. The family business must be in an even worse state than he’d told them.

She was told the few guests had already arrived, including her husband-to-be.

“You look beautiful.” There was a wistful tone in Carmen’s voice.

“Are you okay, sis? You look a little pale.” As always, Carmen looked beautiful, regal as a queen, in her light blue dress that made her raven hair stand out.

“I’m fine. I just wish… I wish you would have married out of love instead of duty.”

Jazzy couldn’t stand the pain in her sister’s eyes. “Don’t worry. I will be fine.”

“The concealer I just used to cover up the faint bruise on your cheek says otherwise.”

Jazzy shrugged. “It wasn’t Gio who gave me the bruise, if it’s any consolation. Also, he took care of the guy whodidgive it to me.” She didn’t really want to think about what had happened to Jason. It had been an eye-opener; seeing the cool and collected Giovanni Detta change into a killer in a split second. She would never underestimate him again.

Carmen seemed to contemplate that for a minute. “You know, I’m proud of you. Nothing ever gets you under.”

There were plenty of things that got her down. Most recently, a certain dominant man in their library. “Well, you know what they say. As long as I breathe, there is hope. Or something like that.”

“Spira, spera,” Carmen said softly. “Who knew you could quote Victor Hugo.”

“Hey. I might not have majored in classical literature like you, but I do read, you know. Just not as much as you.”

This finally made her sister smile. “There is a fire inside you, Jaz. Don’t let anyone snuff that out.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that, and as it was, she didn’t have the time for it, because a knock sounded on the door. Her grandfather took her arm, leading her down the stairs.

The following hour—exchanging their vows, Gio putting a ring on her finger, signing the marriage certificate—went by in a blur.

When the ceremony master announced that the groom could kiss the bride, Jazzy expected Gio to show his dominance over her. What followed though, was a slight peck on her lips. She looked up, unable to hide her disappointment, right into eyes that were burning like a blue fire.

His hand caressed the small of her back, sending hot tingles up her spine. When she shivered, he pulled her close, his lips to her ear.

“Later,” he whispered, his voice filled with promises. “No more running. You’re all mine now.”

Her grandfather raised a glass. “To the new couple. Salute!”

A cheer went through the guests.

Gio took a sip, his eyes never leaving her. “To my bride.”

When the notes to the first dance began, he held out his hand. She took it and let him guide her to the dance floor set up in front of the fireplace.

Jazzy wasn’t sure what to say. Everything had happened so fast. One minute, she was traveling in Europe, finishing Mike’s bucket list, contemplating her next move; the next, she was kidnapped and dancing at her wedding. Maybe honesty was the key here.

“I don’t know what to expect of this marriage,” she confessed.

He didn’t say anything. His blue eyes were like an impenetrable wall of silence, not showing any emotion.

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