Page 18 of His to Keep (Reluctant Vows #6)

“I’d have to finish high school first.” Before I was preparing for my first round of exams. It would be a lot of work to refresh my knowledge of those subjects, pass those exams, and move on to the next more advanced set.

That’s if I was able to continue in the Scottish system.

Heaven knows what I’d have to do to prep for university elsewhere.

“And besides, I doubt Gio would support that idea.”

“Why don’t you ask Signore Volante? He might surprise you.”

“Ask me what?” Gio’s voice startled both me and Rosalia, if the way the other woman jumps is any indication.

“It’s nothing.” I don’t want the disappointment of having him reject the idea of me studying.

Rosalia has no such compunction about telling him what I want. “Eilidh is thinking of going to college. She wants to study books or movies. That’s possible, right?”

“Of course,” he replies easily. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Well, I haven’t finished high school. You know, because of everything.”

“So finish high school.” Gio makes it sound simple, probably because he’s used to being able to do whatever he wants. “Or find another route into college. I’m sure there are programs you could attend.”

“And you’d be okay with that?” I hate how unsure I sound.

“Of course.” Gio crouches in front of me and takes my hands. He doesn’t look away from me as he addresses Rosalia. “Would you mind giving us a moment?”

Rosalia scurries out of the room. Gio smiles at me. “You look beautiful, kitten.”

“We haven’t finished my makeup yet and I’m not wearing the dress.”

“Lipstick and a silk gown aren’t going to make you any more beautiful than you are right now. In fact, don’t put on any more makeup. I like you the way you are.”

“As you wish.” I don’t mean for it to, but pre-wedding jitters make the comment sound snarky.

Gio sighs. “This college thing, Eilidh, were you afraid I’d forbid you to go?”

“Maybe.”

He reaches up and curves a hand around my cheek.

“Kitten, I know this is all happening fast and we haven’t gotten to know each other yet, but I want you to understand, I am not trying to put you in another cage.

Sure, I’ll set some rules about security, and I’ll do everything I can to protect you whether you like it or not, but I’m not going to stop you following your dreams.”

“You won’t?”

He shakes his head. “I want a partner in life, someone who forges her own path, but comes back to me at the end of the day. Perhaps you imagined something else and that’s my fault for not making my wishes clear.”

“You’re right.” Taking the opportunity to lighten the somber mood, I grin. “It is your fault. Try to be clearer in future.”

Gio laughs. “Are you trying to get another spanking?”

“Maybe later.” I pick up a pot of lip gloss and open it. “Right now, I have a wedding to get ready for.”

“Does that mean you’re okay with marrying me?”

“No, but it means I’ll stop fighting it and give us a chance.”

Gio searches my face for a moment. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but his decisive nod tells me he found it. Getting to his feet, he bends to place a kiss on the top of my head. Thankfully, he doesn’t mess up the hard work Rosalia put into styling it.

“I’ll send Rosalia in to help you get dressed. We’re all set up on the terrace. She knows the way.”

He leaves and mere seconds later, Rosalia enters. She goes to the bed, where she draped my wedding gown earlier, still in the white garment bag it came in.

“Close your eyes,” she says excitedly.

I do as she asks and sit there for what feels like an eternity listening to the rustling of fabric.

“Okay, open.”

The minute I do, my jaw drops. “Is that…” Tears well up in my eyes as I struggle for words. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. My heart pounds so fast I’m amazed I don’t keel over. I take several calming breaths, getting myself under control. “Is that my mother’s dress?”

It’s not the one she wore for the wedding ceremony, but the less ostentatious but equally beautiful gown she had for the party afterward. I always preferred this simpler style.

“It’s a replica,” Rosalia says. “ Signore Volante had it made for you.” She bites her bottom lip. “Do you not like it?”

“I love it. I’m just… I mean… how?”

Rosalia laughs at my sudden inability to form a coherent sentence. I have no idea how Gio pulled this off, but I am so incredibly touched that he did. It shows a thoughtful side to him I didn’t know he possessed. I get up from my seat at the dressing table.

“Help me put it on?”

“Of course.”

Rosalia helps me to put the dress on over my head and then zips me up. The lace and satin gown is gorgeous with its low neckline and full skirt. The fit is slightly loose, but the length is perfect. I’m going to have to find a creative way to show my gratitude later.

The shoes Rosalia places on the floor for me to step into are a bit plain. They’re white satin pumps with a low heel. They’re not really my style, but they fit well and that’s the most important thing. I don’t want to end up with blisters.

“Are you ready?” Rosalia asks.

“I guess so.”

We head downstairs, where we’re met by Lorenzo. Gone is the casual look he wore earlier and in its place is a standard Mafia uniform of black suit, white shirt, and black tie. His unruly hair is slicked back, and he looks much more dangerous than he did earlier.

“ Bellissima! ” He greets me with apparent approval. “My cousin is a lucky man. May I accompany you to the altar?”

“There’s an altar?”

“Of course there is.” Lorenzo turns his attention to Rosalia, who’s discreetly edging away. “Where are you going? Come, you must join us.”

Rosalia grimaces and waves her hand up and down her body. “I’m not dressed.”

“Your outfit is fine,” I assure her. The jeans and floral blouse she’s wearing might not be traditional wedding attire, but I’m not going to let her slink off and miss the ceremony when she put in so much effort to make me look good. “Please, Rosalia.”

She smiles broadly and rushes off ahead of us to join whoever else is here. Lorenzo offers me his arm and I loop mine through it.

“You know,” he says as we walk along the carpeted hallway and into a large sitting room with French windows that are thrown wide, “it’s not too late for you to elope with me.”

I screw my nose up. “No offense, Lorenzo, but I think I’ll stick with the devil I know.”

“Good for you, bella. Gio is a better choice.” He leans toward me conspiratorially. “Never tell him I said that.”

When I pretend to zip my mouth shut and throw away the key, Lorenzo laughs.

He leads me out onto a beautiful paved terrace.

At the end of it, there’s a small rectangular table with a white cloth draped over it.

A pile of papers sits on top of it, a marriage contract and other legal forms, I imagine.

Floral displays have been set up at either side of the table.

It’s simple but pretty and I’ve always loved roses.

Gio is standing there looking good enough to eat in a tailored black suit.

It gives me the same tingle deep inside as I had when I first saw him back at the hotel.

Was that really only a couple of days ago? It feels like a lifetime.

The man standing next to him must be Damiano. Though taller and broader, his resemblance to Lorenzo is undeniable. The third man, who must be at least eighty, is clearly a priest.

As Lorenzo leads me toward the group, Gio turns and stares at me with such intensity in his eyes, I feel it deep in my soul. He isn’t marrying me out of some sense of obligation, but because he truly wants to. The thought warms me and then I realize there’s an issue.

“That’s a priest,” I mutter as we get closer.

“ Si ,” Lorenzo agrees. “Our family priest.”

“But I’m not a Catholic.”

Lorenzo shrugs indolently. “That’s okay. The paperwork is the important part. He’s just window dressing.”

Well, that’s one way to diminish the man’s importance. Realizing my not being baptized won’t cause an issue, I smile as we reach Gio. I untangle myself from Lorenzo’s arm. Without prompting, the priest begins the ceremony. Thankfully, it’s in English so I can understand what I’m agreeing to.

As the sermon continues I decide I’d prefer it if he spoke in Italian even if I couldn’t follow what was being said.

English is clearly not a language the old man is confident with because he plods through the ceremony at a snail’s pace expounding on the virtues of love, fidelity, and procreation, something I don’t even want to think about right now.

Eventually he gets to the vows. When it comes to my turn to recite them, I speak clearly, congratulating myself on my ability to sound composed under pressure.

I promise to love, honor, and cherish Gio, grateful that he didn’t try to sneak a promise of obedience in there.

When we’re pronounced husband and wife, Gio kisses me.

It’s tender and loving. I sink into him, and he deepens the kiss.

Just as we’re on the verge of being carried away, the buzzing of someone’s cell phone distracts me.

I pull back from Gio and see that it’s Damiano who’s receiving a call.

“Excuse me.” He looks agitated. “I must take this.”

As he strides off onto the perfectly manicured lawn at the back of the villa, Gio and I sign the paperwork to make the marriage legal.

I don’t understand a word of it since it’s all in Italian.

Since I’m already putting a lot of faith in Gio to be good to me, I decide to trust him with this too.

Lorenzo steps in for Damiano, who’s still on his phone call, and signs as a witness. He invites Rosalia to do the same.

“Gio!” Damiano calls him over.

“Sorry, kitten.” Gio kisses my cheek. “I’d better see what he wants.”

As Lorenzo puts an arm around the priest’s shoulder and leads him away, Rosalia envelops me in a hug. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” I glance over to where Damiano and Gio appear to be in a heated discussion. “What do you suppose that’s about?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Her tone suggests otherwise. “Should I bring the cake out?”

“There’s cake?”

“Of course. Signore Volante… Damiano that is, owns a restaurant in town. The pastry chef is renowned for his chocolate work.”

Though I’m doubtful chocolate will survive the heat, I won’t turn down cake. “Yes, bring it out.”

Rosalia heads back into the house, leaving me alone on the terrace. I scan the gardens and freeze as two people come around the side of the house, heading toward me. Though I’m vaguely aware one of them is a woman, I can’t focus on her. It’s the tall, fair-haired man who steals all my attention.

A chill sweeps through my entire body. Suddenly Gio is at my side, wrapping an arm around me as my legs threaten to give way.

“Eilidh,” he says, his voice urgent. “Eilidh, it’s okay.”

“No.” The word is a distant echo. “No, it’s not.”

As the newcomers finally reach me, I fear I’m about to throw up.

“Eilidh.” His voice is gravellier than I remember. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”

“No.” I say firmly as I try to get to grips with my older brother standing in front of me after all this time believing he was dead. I guess I now know what secret people were keeping from me. “No.”

I can’t handle this. Not here, not now. Shrugging free of Gio’s grasp, I turn and walk away.