“You are going to be my wife now Lauren, I expect you to act accordingly.”
It was things like that which had given her pause and made her wonder if she was doing the right thing. But not being with him was something she could not see herself doing. She had fallen in love with him the minute his eyes touched on hers in the crowded room, and she did not care if it sounded like some tired cliché, but for her it had been love at first sight.
He had asked her for a dance and the moment she stepped into his arms, she knew that there was nowhere else she wanted to be. He had managed to escape the eager reporters and taken her back to his apartment where he had slowly taken off her clothes and made love to her until she had called out his name brokenly over and over again, her body craving his – something she had never experienced before. He had told her that it was the same for him - the dark passion that they both shared was something that he had never experienced before, and he wanted more of it. She had felt confused when he had climbed off the bed and went to stand before the window, the outline of his lean magnificent body reminding her of a wolf in repose, the dark hair tousled by her restless fingers. He had stood there for a few minutes and she had lain there watching him. He had come back to the rumpled bed and sat on the side of it. His face, intense with passion, turned to her.
“Would you consider marrying me?”
She had stared at him in shock.
“Piero, we just met!”
He had nodded, a smile creasing his lips.
“We share a passione – no?” He had gestured with one hand. “It is very… how do you say it?”
“Intense?” she had supplied.
“More like, mercurial,” he had told her with a smoldering smile, his eyes wandering down her down her face to settle on her puckered nipples where he had just minutes ago feasted hungrily, punctuating the suckling motion with urgent words telling her how much feeding on her was making him jump out of his skin. “I need you.”
“We could see each other, but marriage is out of the question,” she had told him faintly.
“You do not want me perhaps? You do not feel like I do?” he had asked her with a frown.
“You know I do,” she had told him earnestly, “but we are not suited. You are Piero De Luca and I am…” She had spread her arms wide. “I am who I am. I would not fit into your society.”
He had stared at her for a full minute before nodding his head as if agreeing with her. She had thought it was the last of it until they had been seeing each other for two weeks when he brought it up again.
“I will be leaving in few days,” he had told her after they were spent from the energetic bout of lovemaking that had her clinging to him.
“Oh?” Lauren had felt the sick lurching of her heart. She was in love with him and had no idea what she was going to do when he left.
He turned his head to look at her then.
“Marry me.”
She had sagged against him weakly and murmured the words.
“Yes.”
“Good. We get married in June.”
*****
The church was overflowing with invited guests, the organ playing a gentle sonata – Beethoven moonlight’s sonata, the expertise of the organist flowing over the hushed atmosphere. Stained glass windows depicting the Last Supper and the crucifixion of Christ filtered in the brilliant sun light that dappled the glossiness of the padded wooden benches. Streams of champagne and gold and blue were wreathed among the benches. The decorators had been given strict instructions to leave the chapel as plain as could be, not adding anything ostentatious to spoil the natural display of piety and solace. Heads turned to look at the members of the Elite Club where the groom, standing with his hands folded in front of him, was wearing an expensive and beautifully cut De Luca custom made dark blue suit with a snowy white inside shirt, the top two buttons opened to expose tanned skin. Gasps were heard throughout as the husbands with their beautiful African American wives came walking in to the tune of the music inside the sanctuary. The dresses, different colors and styles, made by Romano’s, were striking in their designs and simplicity. As a show of support to yet another African American woman tying the knot with a rich and powerful man, the parade had been agreed on by Piero. Prince Francesco was best man and stood with Piero, a smile on his darkly handsome face as he watched his wife take her place at the section that had been reserved for them. The club members along with their wives preceded the wedding party which consisted of twelve beautiful women and their handsome escorts. The procession was long and time consuming, the slow march recorded and snapped by the eager photographers who had been granted the privilege of being a part of the ceremony. The music changed, indicating that the bride was making her appearance. The eager guests stood up in tacit agreement even before they were asked to do so. Their heads turned towards the arched entrance to catch their first glimpse of the beautiful bride. Nothing had prepared them for their first glimpse of the stunning woman who walked in on her father’s arm.
A reporter had waxed eloquent when recording the first look of the bride and had said that no bride had ever been that beautiful! “Lauren Jamieson was the epitome of a fairy princess and sultry woman all rolled into one. The first thing one noticed about her aside from the fabulously expensive dress was her brilliant smile and that exquisite face that could light up a room. That flawless complexion and her trademark hair was another thing about her that was indefinable. Lauren Jamieson certainly suits the role of the bride of a man like Piero De Luca and one could certainly see why he had fallen in love with her!”
Piero’s face was expressionless as he watched his bride walked down the aisle. The only indication of what he was feeling was the ticking of his pulse at the base of his throat as he stared at her. There was no doubt in his mind that he had made the right decision when it came to marrying her. The passion he felt when he was with her had blown his mind and had left him confused and slightly irritated by the power of it. He had felt the need to propose to her and had withstood the rage of his father and the confusion of his mother as to his choice of bride. He had gone for years without feeling the noose of matrimony tightening around his throat until he had met Lauren. He had another reason for marrying her, but he was not going to think about that right now. She was young and beautiful and would look good on his arm. He had not told her that her little online beauty show would be canceled now that she was his wife, but eventually and very soon, she would come to realize that her place was at his side. With a gracious smile, he took the hand her father placed in his and drew her up against him for the ceremony to begin.
*****
“She is making a visualizza – spectacle of herself.” His father’s accented voice jarred him out of his reverie and his study of the woman on the dance floor. The huge ballroom of the hotel, one that the De Luca family had invested into heavily, was tastefully decorated, complete with uniformed guards at the doorways to keep out uninvited guests. The meal had been consumed, the ten tier pink champagne cake cut up and distributed and champagne and an open bar kept the guests hydrated with the expensive quality.
“She is having fun,” Piero said carelessly, waving the hovering waiter who came up with a tray. “She is different.”
“She is far from suitable.” Adolfo De Luca murmured, his face giving no indication of the turmoil he was feeling.