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Mariano

M y heart did this weird fucking flip in my chest when I recalled my Annie’s words.

Not tomorrow.

Today.

Today she would be my wife.

The thought made me feel like I hit a dip in the road, and my heart was floating around in space.My hand stilled on the door of the jewelry store in town. My eyes turned to the bridal shop down the street, willing mine to walk out, and when she did, my hand came over my heart.

She was laughing with her cousin, both women holding small bags from the shop.

The sun glinted down on mine and she seemed to glow, her long, thick, cappuccino-colored hair a halo around her head.

The woman from the other shop, Dizzy, carried a large bag out.

A bag that clearly had a gown in it. She refused to hand it over to one of my men, and she seemed to be insisting to set it in the car herself.

My heart seemed to do a backflip when I thought of Sistine walking toward me, giving me her hand for the rest of our lives, in the gown that was hidden inside of that bag.I knew she’d purchased a gown a few minutes ago. I’d checked. She had the credit card I’d given her.

After Dizzy hung the bag up in the back of the SUV, my men took the other bags from Sistine and her cousin, the two women hooked arms, waving to Dizzy as they headed toward a diner down the street.

Men followed like soldier ants behind them.

Angelo said my name.

“Yeah,” I said, my eyes still on the diner, my heart racing toward it. “I see him.”

The “him” I’d referred to was an older man who kept staring at us.

I moved my eyes and met his steady ones.

He could have been looking at us because we were outsiders in this town.

My cousin wasn’t the most subtle of men.

Marciano said he was “bling country,” whatever the fuck that truly meant, but I got the gist of it.

Angelo Leone Fausti was a show stallion.

I could fit in with the landscape, but I was still a Fausti. I wore custom-made suits in my other life. I dressed for respect.Locals knew there was something different about us, even if we dealt with animal shit on the daily.

Or the old man was looking at us for a more personal reason. He wanted to approach us, but he was hesitating.

I tipped my hat to him. He tipped back.

If he had something on his mind, he’d speak to me. I opened the door to the jewelry store and walked in, Angelo behind me. The man, Brooks, who owned the store was sitting behind the counter, staring into outer space.

I cleared my throat. Cleared it again.

His eyes slowly moved to mine. He nodded and disappeared in the back of the store. He came back out with a bag. He pulled two ring boxes out, opening them.

I nodded, studying the rings again. I’d bought them when I’d first arrived in town. I’d been passing by the window, and my feet stopped me.

Two bands glistening underneath the lights had caught my attention.

When I went inside, the man who owned the shop, the fucking space cadet, was in a chatty mood that day.

He’d told me the two rings had a history.

The ring guard was shaped in a heart with diamonds around it.

I knew it would fit around the blood diamond when I passed fate’s test for her.

The other band was simple, delicate, an alternating pattern of round and marquise diamonds.

The ring guard was designed and created in Florence, Italy.

The year it was created was unknown, but it was apparent it was vintage.

The band was from Wyoming and vintage as well.

He had never found anyone to buy them, since they were the priciest rings for sale in the store, though he nudged the air between us with his arm and said conspiratorially, “The rings have been here since I was a kid.” Meaning, he was going to make a nice profit on them.

I’d bought both bands that day, one for each of mine’s hands. My old man started the tradition; my brothers and I were following it. Matteo had.I would too.

One hand wasn’t fucking enough.

The jeweler thanked me for my business, and after we stepped out of the shop, the old man was waiting outside. His eyes darted around for a second before landing on me.

My eyes went instinctually to the diner. Remo had sent me a text. Mine and her cousin were in the middle of brunch.

We were set to meet at sunset for our wedding.

The man stepped next to me, tipped his hat to me as he said, “Brooks tells good tales when he’s in the mood—but you men enjoy tales, you come talk to me.

I have a tale to tell of a cold December night, where rattlers were on the move.

” His eyes darted around again, before they came back to mine.

He tipped his hat to me once more, gave me his name from the side of his mouth, and continued to walk down the sidewalk.