Reader, I married him.
We didn’t do it right away, but it turned out I wasn’t really interested in being patient once we were finally, officially, undoubtedly together.
After Sal’s end, everything moved quickly. We left the safe house the day after and drove straight to Casal, where the capos pledged their loyalty to my brother. Not all of them, of course, but enough to cement his claim in stone. We settled down there for a few weeks while Dem handled negotiations, promotions, and the restructuring of the organization. It gave me the perfect chance to reconnect with the place where I was born.
Giorgio and I moved into a house next door to Vale and Dem’s. It was a temporary arrangement. We didn’t want to make any permanent decisions while everything was in flux, including where we would live. Of course, Dem made his preferences clear—he wanted me close to him—but when I told him I missed Ibiza, he pursed his lips and said he understood.
One evening, about three weeks after we arrived in Casal, my brother called me and invited me to come over. Said he wanted to talk to me about something. When I got to his house, the living room was full of fabric samples and papers etched with designs for a wedding dress.
“This will be Vale’s?” I asked, picking up one of the sketches.
Dem stood leaning against a wall, his hands in the pocket of his slacks. “Yes. We want to have our proper wedding sometime next month. Her family is making their travel arrangements.”
They were already married, but their first wedding was practically an elopement, with only Ras, Gemma, and I in attendance.
“Even her parents?”
He sniffed. “Yes, even them. I told her we didn’t need to invite them, but she wanted to. She said she wants them to see how happy she is now that her life is in her own hands.”
Vale’s relationship with her parents is strained, but I get the sense that she doesn’t want to cut them off completely. Maybe because of her concern for her younger sisters, or maybe because she believes they can mend things to some extent down the road. At the very least, I know she’s developed some sympathy for her mother.
One night, after a few glasses of wine, Vale got a bit emotional and told me she felt sad that her mother had never known unconditional love. Maybe that’s why she never showed it to her kids. It sounded like her mom had spent her life being devoted to her ruthless husband, doing whatever necessary to ensure his continued rule. Wiping away her tears, Vale said she was grateful that her and Dem’s kids would know what it’s like to have parents who love each other.
“Will you have the wedding here?” My eyes skated over the elegant design. The fabric looked light and breezy, perfect for a beach wedding. My eyes widened at the realization. “Hold on. Ibiza?!”
Dem smiled at me from across the room. “Yes. Initially, I wanted to do it at the basilica in Naples where our parents got married, but it turns out it’s undergoing a restoration. We don’t want to wait for it to be finished, so we’re thinking of going back to Ibiza. Actually, that’s why I called you. We want to get married at the cathedral, and we’ll probably do the reception at one of my restaurants, but some of the smaller events will be at the house. Would that be alright with you? We don’t want to trigger any bad memories.”
I give him a smile. “It won’t. We spent a long time in that house together, Dem. I have a lot of fond memories there, and one bad one. I have no intention of letting Lazaro’s attack spoil the house for me. Is Vale okay with it?”
He nodded. “It was her idea.”
I laughed at his crooked grin. “All right. Well, then it’s settled.”
That night, as I lay beside Giorgio, I couldn’t sleep. In my mind, a movie of a wedding played out, but it wasn’t Vale and Dem’s.
I saw Giorgio and myself on the big lawn outside the house under a grandiose flower arch. Our hands were linked as a priest read out our vows against a backdrop of azure-blue water. I love that color. I spent my youth swimming inside of it, and it’s also the color of Giorgio’s eyes.
The movie kept playing, and at three am, I woke Giorgio up.
“What is it, piccolina?” he asked groggily.
“Let’s get married.”
That woke him up properly. He sat up, blinking sleep out of his eyes. “When?”
Right to the point. It made me laugh. “I don’t know. But soon. And I want to do it in Ibiza.”
“Your brother is also getting married in Ibiza.”
His mind must have still been foggy with sleep. “I know. I was the one who told you that a few hours ago, remember?”
“You want a double wedding?” he asked, as if that wasn’t a ridiculous question.
I hit him with a throw pillow. “Are you crazy? Of course not. I don’t want to steal his and Vale’s limelight.”
Giorgio grabbed the pillow out of my hands and threw it to the floor. “It makes sense. Everyone is already flying down.”
I frowned at him. “So we do it because of efficiency? How romantic.”
Giorgio paled. “That came out badly. It’s not what I meant.”
My frown softened. He’s treated me like a queen since we almost broke up, and I can see in his eyes that he loathes upsetting me. “Don’t worry about it. But no, I think we should wait. I want Vale and Dem to have their special day.”
He did have a point, though. Everyone was coming down…
“What if we space it out by a few days?” Giorgio offered, his tone carefully neutral.
“You mean like we get married a few days apart?”
“Yes. A weeklong celebration. It would give us time to rest in between.”
I brought my nail to my mouth. “That actually sounds…kind of fun.”
“You’d be able to plan everything with Vale.”
“I already told Dem I’d help with the planning,” I said, running through the idea in my head. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but I’m not sure Vale and Dem would be fine with it. Weddings are a big deal. They’re individual. Special.”
Giorgio folded his arm beneath his head. “Why don’t you mind it then?”
“Because Dem and Vale are my closest family. Sharing the celebration with them would be special in its own way.”
Giorgio smiled. “Why don’t you ask them? See what they say?”
So I did.
And they loved the idea.
Vale squealed and dragged me into a hug. “So you and Giorgio are ready?”
“Truthfully, I think we’ve been ready for a while,” I said once she let go of me and I was able to breathe again. “It all kind of fell into place quickly once we moved in.”
“You seem happy,” Dem said, his lips tugging into a smile.
“I am happy. Giorgio makes me happy.”
Vale sighed. “This is the best news, Mari. Of course, we love the idea.”
“Are you sure?” I asked as I carefully studied their expressions. “The thought is Giorgio and I get married at the house on Wednesday, and then you and Dem on the Friday as you were intending. The days in between will give everyone time to recover. But really, we won’t be offended if you say no. We don’t want to intrude.”
“You couldn’t even if you wanted to,” Vale said, linking her hand with Dem as if to show me they’re a united front. “I love it. When I was younger, Gemma and I would always fantasize about having a joint wedding. It seemed like double the fun.”
I smiled. “Yes, I think it’s going to be a lot of fun. A weeklong party.”
Vale squealed again. “I’m going to see if my sisters can come for the entire week. This is going to be fantastic.”
And so that’s how we ended up on Ibiza a month later under that flower arch I imagined.
Giorgio slides a slim gold band onto my finger as I blink away a sudden wetness in my eyes. When it’s my turn to do the same, I glance at him, and warmth spreads through my chest at the look in his eyes.
Adoring. Possessive. Reverent.
When the priest tells us we can kiss, Giorgio places his palm along the side of my neck and drags his thumb over my jaw as he pulls me closer. Our lips touch, and he whispers, “Mine.”
A shiver runs through me. We kiss in front of everyone who matters. Everyone who has a say in this new world my brother has created. And as Giorgio’s tongue slips inside my mouth, and he deepens the kiss, I know the message is clear.
I’m his.
And he’s mine.
GIORGIO
I have a wife.
She’s beautiful and clever and never fails to keep me on my toes. Sometimes, when I look at her, I have to blink a few times to convince myself she’s real. Even in my dreams, I was never so bold as to imagine myself with someone like her.
Reality is an audacious thing.
The dinner starts shortly after the ceremony, and Martina and I are seated at a table with De Rossi, his wife, her siblings, Ras, and Ras’s parents, who’ve seen Mari grow up.
I last fifteen minutes before I whisk Martina away, taking advantage of some idiotic sparring match that breaks out between Ras and Gemma, Valentina’s sister. While everyone is distracted, I take Mari’s hand and pull her out of the tent.
We stumble into the first bedroom we can find.
“Gio, they’re going to notice,” she says as I lick a trail up her neck.
“Let them.” My hands sink into the silky fabric of her wedding dress, and I hike it up before lifting her into my arms.
She wraps her legs around me and kisses the side of my throat. “We’re married,” she says against my skin. “God, I can’t believe we’re married.”
My fingers slide into her hair—it tumbles in soft curls down her back—and I pull back to meet her eyes. “My wife. Fuck, I need to be inside of you.”
She blushes, her eyes growing hooded with lust. “I like it when you call me that.”
“I’m going to call you that for the rest of your life.”
I lower her onto the mattress before I get on my knees at the foot of the bed. When she realizes my intention, she tries to pull me up, but I catch her wrists and press them down at her sides.
“Gio, there’s no time,” she protests.
My teeth scrape over her thin lace panties. They’re nearly transparent, and when my tongue brushes over her clit, she arches her back.
“Oh…”
I bite down on the fabric and rip them off her with my teeth.
She gasps and pushes up on her elbows. “Did you just…?”
Her earthy scent hits my nose, and I groan, pressing my face against her pussy. I feel starved for her. I always am.
Martina moans as my tongue disappears between her folds. “We need—oh God—we need to get back to the party.”
I give her a long, slow lick and glance up. “They’re having their appetizers. I’m having mine.”
She giggles, but the sounds morphs into a desperate groan when I wrap my lips around her clit and suck. I alternate between sucking and teasing her clit in steady strokes, just the way she likes it. I’ve studied all her likes by now. All her wants. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing her surprised expression when I do something new that makes her toes curl.
“Oh fuck, okay, I’m going to—“ Her fingers tug on my hair, and her thighs clamp around my head. “Ohhhh…”
I slip two fingers inside of her just as she explodes and feel how she flutters around me.
“Gio, I want you,” she pants. “Come here.”
My belt comes off. She sits up and helps me pull down my zipper, her hands frantic and desperate. When she looks up at me, meeting my gaze, I feel something shift inside my chest.
“I love you,” she whispers as she wraps her arm around me and pulls me closer. “I love you.”
We hold each other’s gaze as I sink into her. Our hushed gasps layer on top of each other. “Piccolina, you are my world.” My lips press to the upper swell of her breast. “You are everything.”
Flesh on flesh. Soft, languid kisses. Her heels pressed into my thighs. When she comes for the second time, she mewls and throws her head back, her eyes squeezed shut.
She unravels me. My release roars through me moments afterward, and I collapse against her body, pressing my face into the crook of her neck.
When we untangle a few minutes later, she eyes the ripped panties and sends me a reproachful look. “You go. I’m going to get another pair from my room.”
I kiss her temple. “Don’t take too long.”
She makes a show of peeking outside the door before slipping out, as if we’d get in trouble if we’re caught.
As she disappears down the hall, I run my hand through my hair and discover it’s a mess. I should probably fix it. Not that I care if everyone in attendance knows I just fucked my wife, but she might, and I don’t want to embarrass my piccolina.
I dip inside a small bathroom I used the last time I was here and stand in front of the sink.
It seems like forever ago. Years, not months.
A lot has happened since I was here to pick Mari up, but in the last few weeks, everything has more or less settled. De Rossi is the don. Ras is his second in command, and I’ve been appointed as his senior advisor on matters of security.
There are a few loose ends. Nelo and Vito, the two idiot brothers, disappeared without a trace in the confusion after Sal’s death. I told De Rossi not to worry. The two of them don’t have enough braincells combined to evade our men for long. They must have gotten help from someone, though, because no matter how hard we’ve looked, we haven’t found any hint as to where they went.
They evaporated.
Wiped blank.
A part of me suspects they were killed, but without their bodies, we can’t be sure.
We decided to let it go for now, since there are more pressing concerns. Like smoothing things over with the Algerian suppliers that De Rossi cut out in the beginning of the war.
I finish adjusting my hair and put my thoughts about work on the back burner. Now that we’re married, I’d much rather steal Mari away and spend the evening alone with her, but the party is important for piccolina, so I’ll play along.
When I step out of the bathroom, I hear someone arguing.
Two voices talk over each other from a room down the hall, and my body moves closer out of habit.
“Look, all I’m trying to tell you is that you have a choice.”
Valentina. I guess Mari and I weren’t the only ones who snuck away during dinner.
“Vale, enough,” Gemma, her sister, says. “You only make it worse by constantly bringing it up. I’m marrying Rafael. It’s settled, and I’m fine with it.”
“But you don’t even know him.”
“So what? This is what I’ve expected my whole life.”
“That doesn’t make it right or normal.”
“We aren’t normal. We sacrificed normal to be powerful.”
“We didn’t do anything. Our father did.”
“You say that like you’re making some kind of a point. We’re a family. A fucked-up, messed-up family, but a family nonetheless. Papa’s made it clear that my marriage is important for our family’s survival.”
Valentina makes a frustrated sound. “I don’t understand. I thought that after you found out what they did to me by marrying me to Lazaro, you’d stop being so blindly loyal.”
“What they did to you was a horrible mistake. They both acknowledge it now. You know that, right?”
“Father only acknowledges it because Damiano forced him to. His apology to me was said through gritted teeth.”
“He’s proud, but deep down, he knows what he did was wrong. And Mama cries in her bedroom at night. One time, I went to her, and she told me she’ll never forgive herself for putting you in that situation.”
“I don’t believe her. She suspected what was happening, at least in broad strokes. She knew Lazaro wasn’t right in the head. When I tried to give her the details, she wouldn’t listen.”
“You know she’s never gone against Papa. She didn’t know how to change anything.”
“God, Gem! I’m not ever going to forgive them, all right? I feel sorry for Mama, I do, but it’s not enough for me to excuse her for her role in all of this.”
“Fine. I won’t try to change your mind. Now, do me the same courtesy about my upcoming marriage.”
Valentina sighs. “There was a time when you weren’t okay with marrying a Messero.”
“Maybe I’ve grown up since then. I was there when Tito, our cousin, died. You weren’t. They brought him to our house while he was bleeding out, and I held his hand as he took his last few breaths. I’ve seen what perceived weakness can do to our family, how it makes our enemies foam at the mouth. My marriage to Rafael will ensure things like that won’t happen again. So just stop it, okay? I’m fine with my decision. I don’t need you to try to make me feel bad about it.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”
“It’s what it feels like. Now can we please get back to dinner? Your husband will worry about you.”
“Will yours?”
Gemma doesn’t answer. I duck into the shadows as they pass right by me, and a few moments later, I follow behind them. Gemma turns into the kitchen, while Valentina continues outside.
I knew Valentina’s father, Stefano Garzolo, was on shaky ground in New York, but the way Gemma spoke about it makes the situation seem far worse than I would have thought. I catalogue the conversation and make a note to bring it up to De Rossi after the end of the festivities.
When I step outside, the appetizers are being cleared away. Despite Mari’s worrying, no one except De Rossi seems to have registered our absence. He shoots me a glare when I sit back down, and I arch a brow in response.
He has no ground to stand on. I’d bet my right arm he and Valentina will be disappearing throughout their wedding dinner as well.
When Mari slides into the chair beside me a few minutes later, she grasps my arm and leans into my ear.
“Oh my God, you won’t believe what I just saw on my way back down from my room,” she whispers conspiratorially.
“What?”
“I was thirsty, so I decided to pop into the kitchen for some water, but someone was already there. Making out.”
I huff a chuckle at her excited tone. “Okay…who?”
She moves closer until her lips brush against my ear. “Gemma and Ras.”
My eyes widen.
Well, isn’t that interesting.
