“Do it,” Noemi said, plucking my cell from next to my laptop. “Call him. Maybe it’ll make it easier to make the decision.” She handed me my cell. “It’s not like you have a lot of time left.”
She wasn’t wrong. The church had been booked by Lorenzo’s mom four days from now. And if I said yes, I’d have to go and buy a dress. Shit. I hadn’t even thought about a dress. I’d blocked it all out, but now it was becoming all the more real. It wasn’t just about me agreeing to become his wife. It was the production of the day. And then what about after? How would it all work?
I groaned and rubbed at my temples. “My brain is in overdrive.”
“Call him,” Noemi repeated as she stood.
“I—"
“Call him.” She nodded, keeping her attention on me for several seconds, then spun around and walked out of the room, leaving me with the huge ring and my cell.
I stared at it for way too long, hoping the numbers would disappear so I wouldn’t be able to call. But they didn’t. They stayed scrawled onto the back of the card, willing me to dial them. So, I did. I bit the bullet, put the numbers into a new contact, then clicked call.
My stomach rolled with nerves as it rang out, and after several clicks, a deep voice answered, “This is Lorenzo.”
“Lorenzo,” I whispered, holding the open ring box in my hand. “This is erm…” I cleared my throat. “It’s Aida.” Silence greeted me, and I wondered if maybe he hadn’t wanted me to call him. What if I’d jumped the gun? Crap. I turned the card over to see if there was a message with the numbers, but there wasn’t. “I…I got your package.”
“Do you like it?” he asked, his deep voice vibrating through the speaker.
“Well…” I bit down on my bottom lip, not sure whether I should be honest with him or tell him the truth. “It’s very big.” I heard a snicker from outside of my bedroom and narrowed my eyes on the half-closed door. Of course, Noemi was listening.
“But do you like it?” he repeated. Did I like it? I wasn’t sure. In another world, maybe I would have been ecstatic with the ring, but in the land I lived in, I couldn’t see myself ever wearing it. But that wasn’t what he’d asked. He’d asked if I liked it, and the truth was, I did. It was pretty.
“Have you tried it on?” he asked, his voice lower now.
“Not yet.”
“Try it on, Aida.”
I swallowed at the sound of him saying my name. It sounded so different coming from his mouth. “Okay.” I slowly reached for the ring, plucking it from the velvet pillow it was wedged in, then slipped it onto my left ring finger. “It fits.” It was so big it extended up to my knuckle. “I…” I closed my eyes, trying to make myself invisible as I asked, “Why me?”
“Why you?” I heard the creak of a chair, and I imagined him sitting up.
“Yeah, why me?” I opened my eyes and stared at the ring. “Why do you want to marry me?”
He cleared his throat, and I wondered if he was processing what to say. He didn’t come across as someone who thought before he spoke, but then I didn’t know him. Which was the whole point. Why would he choose to ask me to marry him when I was sure he had a line full of women ready to take this ring.
“Because my gut told me to.” I opened my mouth, not sure what to say, but he continued, “I don’t overthink things, Aida. When my gut tells me to do something, I do it.”
He made sense, but that didn’t mean I fully understood him.
“What is your gut telling you, Aida?”
I wasn’t sure I could take much more of him saying my name. The way the letters rolled off his tongue had warmth spreading through me and a deep need in my stomach to hear it over and over again.
“I…I’m not sure what it’s saying.” I huffed out a breath and leaned my head in my hand. “I just…there’s too much to think about.”
“Aida.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m going to ask you a question. Don’t think about it. Don’t pause. Just answer it with your gut.”
I pulled in a deep breath. “Okay.”
“Okay.” There was a pause and then, “Will you marry me?”
I didn’t think. I didn’t process the question and think about all of the what-ifs. I let my gut answer for me. “Yes.” I slammed my hand over my mouth, shocked at the single word that had come out. I’d been fretting over this entire situation from the moment Ma and Dad had told me, and all it had taken was one conversation with Lorenzo for me to finally come to a decision.
“I’ll see you at the altar, Aida.”
Holy shit.
I was getting married.
To Lorenzo Beretta.
I was going to be the wife of a Mafia boss.
LORENZO
The church was packed with people who had come from all over the world to see the next boss of the Beretta family get married. A mixture of old and new generations filled each of the pews, but still, there wasn’t enough room for everyone. People lined the edges of the church, several of the families not mixing with one another, but they were here as witnesses.
Witnesses to a new age.
An age of the modern reign.
A reign I intended to take full control of.
My gaze roved around the giant building, first landing on my ma’s smiling face and then on my uncle, who sat next to her. He was becoming a permanent fixture in the house—a fixture I didn’t like. He was trying to insert himself, offer advice that wasn’t wanted. And all I could do was sit back and take it. Until I was married, I wasn’t the boss. Only then could I tell him what I really thought.
Uncle Paolo’s lips curved up into a smile. I tilted my head in greeting, not willing to give him more than that. He thought I didn’t know who he was, but I did. My dad had prepared me for this day for what felt like my entire life, and that included detailed accounts of the Italian arm of the operation. Which included Uncle Paolo. I knew he wasn’t here for the good of the family because, if he was, he would have come to my dad’s funeral.
But he hadn’t.
He’d only come stateside when he could gain something—or that was what he thought.
As soon as I had the ring on my finger and Aida as a wife by my side, I could take over. And my first order of business was to find out exactly what Uncle Paolo was doing here.
My nostrils flared the longer we stared at each other, neither of us willing to look away or back down. He may have been the senior person right now, but he wouldn’t be for long. And as if I had willed it, the music started.
I snapped my attention away from Uncle Paolo and onto the aisle that ran through the center of the church. People stood, their gazes veering to the doors as they opened.
And then she walked in.
I couldn’t help but quirk my lips at the simple off-white dress. The closer she got, the more I saw the lace detail, and I knew the women of the family wouldn’t have approved this. Tradition was to get married in white, but she was bucking it. I reasoned that she should have had some control. After all, this wasn’t a real marriage. It was a union made out of necessity, one she didn’t really have a choice in. So, I didn’t think too much about her breaking the tradition. I let it slip away, deciding I had bigger problems than the damn color of her dress.