Page 22

TWENTY-TWO

zina

T he idea of putting a wedding together in one week was almost laughable when he told me he wanted to get married so soon after our engagement. I argued that we need at least a month, there is too much to plan and too much to do - but it turns out that Giovanni will stop at nothing once he’s decided he wants something. And he shocked me, by putting all of this together with hardly any help from me. The only thing he needed from me was to know what I envisioned as the perfect day. The perfect flower and the perfect decor.

Now the day has arrived.

We are getting married on the estate, in our own garden. Giovanni has arranged for two gorgeous white tents to be put up in the garden. One is filled with seating for our guests during the ceremony. Another sits on the other side of the garden decorated as though it was the most luxurious dinner party ever to be celebrated.

White roses, lilies and peonies curtain the entrance of each tent and hang in long, elaborate chains from the ceiling to the floor.

Fairy lights glitter between the flowers and the tables are covered in white silk and crystal glass.

Chandeliers adorn the space above the seating and dancing areas and soft white fabric floats in a gentle breeze around the windows.

My heart is so happy I could scream and sing and dance.

Upstairs in my old bedroom I am tucked away where Giovanni can’t accidentally see me - it’s bad luck for a groom to see his bride in her wedding dress before the right moment.

I’m already dressed. I’m wearing the style that he chose for me, a very similar cut to the dress I wore at our engagement party. Thin straps and a low dipping front, the back is scandalous low, and hints of white lace tease the eye all over my body. The dress is made of pure white silk. Hand stitched into the lace and flaring over the long, flowing skirt, crystals and diamonds sparkle when I move.

Its exquisite.

I have three girls fussing over me, doing my hair and make-up and spraying a beautiful fine mist of perfume on my skin. One of the girls gently clips an oversized, diamond tiara into my hair.

If ever I felt like a queen -

A knock on the door draws our attention.

Giovanni’s voice carries through.

“My love?—”

I stand up and wave the girls away from me, lifting the front of my dazzling, crystal covered white silk dress, I walk to the closed door.

“Giovanni, you can’t come in - you can’t see me.”

“I know, but this - this is important.” He sounds terrible. My heart sinks. What could be so important that he would risk breaking tradition.

My heart flips when I open the door to let him in.

His mouth drops open at the sight of me. The satisfaction and happiness that floods me almost makes me cry.

And he looks incredible. He’s wearing a black suit and a white shirt. Every inch of him is perfect. From his carefully styled shortcut beard, to his hair, to the way his clothes fit snuggly over his muscular physique.

Damn - my man is the sexiest person on this planet.

“Oh my fuck.” He mutters, taking a step back. He rubs his hand over his square jaw and shakes his head. “I knew you would be too beautiful to put into words - but Zina - I can hardly breathe.”

My smile is so wide it aches against my cheeks. I reach out and pull him into the room, turning to the girls who have been helping me get ready - “Please give us some privacy.” I demand.

They hurry out.

Giovanni walks in and paces slowly up and down. He rubs his hand over the back of his neck.

“What’s going on?” I ask, realizing how bad it is - whatever it is. It’s hard to shake him, especially on a day like today when we have so many reasons to be happy.

Giovanni lets out a long, stressful groans before he speaks.

“Firstly, Santino is refusing to attend the wedding.” He sighs in frustration, but then waves his hand through the air as though that’s the least of his worries.

“I’m sorry, Giovanni. Did you talk to him? What did he say?”

“I spoke to him, but Zina, that doesn’t matter. He is man enough to make his own choices. It doesn’t change anything. Something else has happened and I don’t know what to do?—”

I walk over to him and grab his waist, turning him to face me so that he stops pacing up and down.

“Talk to me. We’ll figure it out together.” I say, searching his eyes.

“The security alarm was triggered when the servants carried a gift in. One that got delivered by courier.”

“Why would an alarm trigger?” my brows knot in confusion.

“Because it’s a bomb.” He says sternly.

My heart stops, my body freezes. “We have to get everyone out of here immediately.” I stammer in shock.

“No. No, that isn’t necessary. My team has disposed of the bomb. It’s gone. We’ve scanned every other gift and every car of every guest. We haven’t fond anything else concerning - but the point is that someone is willing to go to extreme length to stop this wedding.”

I drop my hands from his waist, now I’m pacing up and down the bedroom. Should we stop the wedding? Is it too dangerous? Are we playing with fire by carrying on?

“I can see it on your face - all the same questions I’m asking myself.” Giovanni sighs, flopping down into the sofa on the corner. He leans forward, resting his face in his hands for a moment before he looks up at me.

“I don’t want to cancel anything, Zina. I don’t want to call off the wedding.”

I bite my lower lip, searching my thoughts for answers.

“Is there a risk that there is a bomb hidden somewhere we haven’t found?”

“There is always a risk. This is a dangerous world. But that risk will never go away - and if we stop now we send a very clear message to whoever sent that bomb that they are more powerful than us - that we are afraid of them and they can control us with a simple threat.”

I shake my head.

Not a chance. “No one is more powerful than us.” I demand. “No one can control us, Giovanni. We run this city.”

A dark, proud smile spreads across his lips.

“You really are the perfect woman for me, Zina. Why did I think you’d want to stop? How blind of me.” He stands up, his smile growing wider.

He folds his arms around me as I step close to him.

“It’s you and me, my husband.” Raising myself onto my tiptoes I kiss him.

He moans against my lips, his body relaxing into mine. “I am not your husband yet, my sweet little thing.”

I grin, brushing my thumb over his lips.

“Well, get out - so I can finish getting ready.”

Reluctantly, we step apart and Giovanni takes one last look at me before leaving.

Music plays from inside the tent, indicating that it’s time for me to walk.

Two men in tuxedos draw a white curtain open, revealing me standing at the start of the path that leads me to the man of my dreams. Giovanni’s eyes are glued to me. His hands are clamped in front of his body as he stands straight, his shoulders back, waiting for me.

He’s waiting for me.

The love of my life.

He’s waiting to commit the rest of his life and heart and soul - to me.

I smile beneath the veil that covers my face, walking slowly towards him, one step a time, holding a bouquet of crisp white peonies. They are my favorite flower and Giovanni made sure that there were thousands of them here for my wedding.

He slowly lifts my veil and I pass my flowers to someone to hold for me.

My heart is beating like a million butterflies are dancing in my chest.

He looks down at me with those gorgeous blue eyes, reaching his hands out, he takes mine in his.

The priest talks about love, happiness and sacrifices. He talks of family, promises and trust. He talks of souls, coming together as fate always intended them to do.

We exchange rings, our hands brushing over each other’s fingers as we slip the promises onto our fingers.

Giovanni has never looked more handsome than this moment.

As the priest speaks I am feint with excitement. I can’t believe this is finally happening.

“I now pronounce you - husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

Giovanni steps against me with a smile, he’s hand wraps around my waist and dips me backwards, his hand slipping into the slit of my dress so that he can pull my bent leg up against his hip. It’s picture perfect as he presses his lips over mine.

I’m lost in a fairytale moment, the perfect moment - one I have dreamed of since the day he first kissed me.

He doesn’t hesitate with his kiss. It’s barely appropriate for public view, and it sets my skin on fire with desire. His hand slides over my leg, beneath the wedding dress and I giggle, blushing, as my cheeks heat with need.

He belongs to me now and no one should dare try to take him from me.

This is my husband. My man. My life. He ’ s claiming me in front of everyone.

When he pulls me back to my feet and stares down into my eyes, he is grinning mischievously. The crowd is cheering and throwing flower petals. He leans close and whispers in my ear. “Do we have time to disappear for a few moments?”

I laugh, scrunching my nose.

Giovanni leads me back down the aisle, past all of those watching eyes. My arm is slipped through his and he walks proudly with me at his side.

“Mrs. Rivas.” He says my name to test how it feels on his lips. It makes my heart beat faster. “Mrs. Zina Rivas.” I never expect a new name to turn me on as much as that one does.

I bite my lip, wishing we could sneak away - and steal a moment for ourselves.

Our guests move from the ceremony tent to the dinner tent.

Music plays and we dance, eat incredible food and laugh all night.

I see Santino, outside the tent, glaring in through an open window. His face scowled in anger. It clenches my heart, but I turn away from him - this night isn’t about him. He has no idea how much I deserve this night. And I won’t let him ruin it for me.

Guido cheekily steals a dance from Giovanni, wanting to celebrate too. He takes my hand and slowly waltzes with me over the dance floor, but it doesn’t last long before Giovanni is back at my side, chasing Guido away to enjoy the night with everyone else.

“I don’t want to share you tonight.” Giovanni whispers against my ear, moving seductively as he guides me through a slow, romantic song.

Beneath his jacket, I slip my hand under his shirt, untucking it at the back so that I can touch his skin. I want him more than words can describe.

I want to consummate this union. To make it final. To have him claim me in that final way that will seal our fates.

“It’s late.” I whisper with a smile.

“It is.” He nods, his eyes flaring.

“It’s about time for everyone to leave.” I remark.

He shakes his head. “Let them stay. Let them celebrate.”

Giovanni slips his arm around my waist and lifts me off my feet, cradling me against his chest. He carries me through the crowd, not even trying to hide his intentions or to slip away quietly.

We leave the celebrations to carry on without us as he carries me upstairs, to claim me as his wife, in the most delightful way possible.