The priest cleared his throat. Laughter echoed behind us. A sheepish look crossed Luc’s handsome face as he glanced at the priest, said something in Italian I didn’t understand, then drew back. But he didn’t stop smiling. And when I handed Ariana my flowers, and Luc took my hands in his, I didn’t need to listen to what the priest said to the room or look to see who was around us.
All I focused on was Luc. Here in this place with me. Perfect. Mine. Forever and ever my one and only. Exactly the way it was supposed to be.
His thumb brushed over the backs of my fingers as the priest spoke, and he looked down at me with a wiggle of his brows. Thinking he was up to something, I narrowed my eyes, then glanced down at our fingers only to suck in a surprised breath.
He wasn’t wearing his ring. He’d given it to me this morning. But he’d swept out of the house so quickly, I hadn’t noticed his ring finger. Tattooed with the word “Slave” in black ink, exactly like mine. Faded, just enough to tell me it wasn’t fresh, but had been done at the same time as mine. And when I pushed his fingers apart, I saw the letters “NJ’s.”
My heart swelled, and warm tears flooded my eyes—happy tears.
Smiling, he lifted his tattooed hand and brushed a tear from the corner of my eye before it slid down my cheek, and all I could do was tip my face into his hand and savor him there, touching me like that, so gently and endearing, that one act making me fall even deeper in love with this amazing, incredible man.
The rest of the ceremony rushed by—the vows, which I fumbled through in Italian with laughter and help from Luc, the exchanging of the rings, the lighting of the candles—but the kiss... That was the best part.
Luc lifted both hands to my face, stepped close, and looked down at me in the candlelight. And when he whispered, “I love you,” I knew I was home. I was exactly where I was always meant to be.
“I love you too,” I whispered back. “Sempre e per sempre.”
His eyes shone with all the love I felt in my heart when he lowered his lips to mine. And as our mouths fused, I was confident we could weather any storm his House sent our way.
This was real.
This was meant to be.
This was everything.
And nothing could break us.
When Felicity had told me earlier in the day that Marco and Luc were planning the wedding meal, I’d expected a barbecue on their patio with some music and wine. What awaited me was a feast spread out on the edge of the vineyard, under a thousand twinkle lights hanging from the trees, tables set with elaborate flowers and china and crystal, and a three-piece orchestra on the edge of a wooden dance floor.
It was my dream wedding—everything I’d envisioned as a child. And even though there were only a handful of guests—Marco and Felicity, Bianca and her husband Nino, Ariana and the Salvatici family cook, Rosabel, whom I remembered meeting at Luc’s parents’ house and whom Luc greeted with more affection than his mother, along with several of Marco and Felicity’s staff—it was perfect. I couldn’t have planned anything better if I’d had a year to try.
I stood under the twinkling lights on the edge of the dance floor hours later, laughing at Ariana trying to teach one of Marco’s drivers how to do the latest club dance move. Luc moved up behind me and slipped his thick arms around my waist, pulling me back into the hard, warm plane of his chest, instantly making me sigh and lean into him.
Against my ear, he whispered, “What did I miss?”
“Nothing but Dario falling on his butt. Poor guy is so embarrassed. I think he’s afraid of your sister.”
Luc nipped at my ear, sending a shiver down my neck. “He should be. She’s a bossy little thing.”
“I know. That’s why I like her.”
We watched Ariana and Dario like that for several moments, then Luc pressed his face into my hair and whispered, “I’m sorry your mom couldn’t be here.”
“It’s okay.”
“I know but—”
I turned my head and kissed the tip of his nose. “When things are settled, I’ll take you to Montana to meet her. Knowing my mother, she’ll want to throw us another reception.”
His arms tightened around me. “It’s a deal.”
He held me close as we watched Ariana and Dario laughing under the lights. Dario wasn’t much older than Dante, and I knew from Luc’s silence at my back that he was thinking of his brother, just as I was.
I squeezed his hand at my waist. “I wish Dante could’ve been here.”
“Yeah, me too.”
The worry I heard in his voice made me turn. “If you need to go check on him—”
“I don’t.”
“Are you sure? Because you stepped away to look at your phone, and I assumed it was about Dante. If he needs yo—”
“It wasn’t about Dante. But I did check on him again. And he’s fine.” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I stepped away to text my father.”
I definitely didn’t like the sound of that. “Is everything all right?”
“He wanted to meet. I told him I was busy and that we could do it tomorrow.”
“If you have to go now—”
“I’m not leaving you on our wedding night.”
“Luc, we’ve been married for weeks. I can handle—”
He cupped my jaw and tipped my mouth up to his, cutting off my words with a swift press of his lips. “Maybe you can handle being away from me tonight, but I can’t handle being away from you. My father and his stupid summons can wait. Tonight is all about you and me, angioletto. I’m not going to let him tarnish this in any way.”
My heart warmed. I absolutely didn’t want him to leave now or ever, but I was working on being the supportive wife he needed, not the combative one I’d been for too long.
Wrapping my arms around his waist between his shirt and his jacket, I stepped into him until we were pressed together knee to chest and his heat and spicy scent cocooned me like a blanket. “Speaking of waiting...” I nipped at the hint of stubble on his jaw, then gently kissed him in the same spot. “I love this reception and all that, but...how much longer do I have to wait until I can have you all to myself?”
A low growl echoed in his throat just before he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me hard.
My skin tingled at his possessive show of affection, and between my legs, I grew hot and wet and achy all for him.
“I’ve been itching all night for you to give me a sign you were ready to go,” he mumbled against my lips.
I shifted my hips against his ever so slightly, shivering when I felt the line of his arousal thicken beneath his expensive slacks. “Baby, I’ve been ready for hours.”
His growl deepened, and he kissed me again before quickly releasing me.
Grasping me by the hand, he pulled me behind him, and one by one, we said goodbye and thank you to our guests. Minutes later, we were in the golf cart, the train of my dress wrapped around me like tissue paper, while Luc hit the gas and we cut across the lawn away from the lights and music near the main house.
I laughed when we hit a bump that jostled us both on the bench seat, and reached up to steady myself with one hand on the roof of the cart. “Anxious, I see.”