Chapter 40
CHANTEL
“Hi.”
Cristian glances up at me in the reflection of the mirror where he’s adjusting his tie, his hands faltering as he lets out a low growl of approval.
“What are you doing here, gattina?” He turns to face me, his eyes darkening with pleasure as they rake over me.
“I wanted you to see it alone first.” I offer him a nervous shrug.
He drinks me in, all the way from my strappy white heels to the ivory tea-length dress.
It’s simple, with a fitted satin bodice, a sweetheart neckline, and a full tulle skirt that falls below my knees.
Of course, I added a few vintage touches—a bridal hair comb, a pair of sheer lace gloves, and an heirloom pearl bracelet from Nonna.
“Come here,” Cristian rasps.
I bite my lip and smile. “I think Nonna might murder you if I do.”
“It will be worth it,” he says.
My eyes move over him as I approach, a flutter stirring inside me as I take in the details of his suit. It’s a black three-piece with a crisp white shirt and polished black leather oxfords. He looks like the classic Italian gentleman—the kind who always gets his way.
I don’t even make it to him before he grabs me by the waist and pulls me close. His palm skims up the back of my thigh and disappears beneath my dress. He grabs my ass and squeezes before sliding his hand between my thighs and tugging my panties aside.
I bite back a moan as he slips two fingers inside me and starts to fuck me slowly.
“Cristian,” I protest weakly. “Nonna is really going to kill you. We’re supposed to be out there in like five minutes.”
“You started this, baby,” he murmurs against my throat. “I’m going to finish it.”
“How did I start it?” I tip my head back, giving him more access as he kisses his way down to my collarbone.
“You came in here like this.” He nips at my skin. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.”
Okay, well, he has me there.
I blame it on the pregnancy hormones, but maybe it’s just because I have a hot almost-husband I can’t seem to get enough of.
When I reach down and stroke the rigid outline of his cock, he groans. Then he startles a yelp from me when he picks me up and hauls me into the bathroom, locking the door behind us.
“Are you hiding from your Nonna, Cristian Vitale?” I laugh.
“I’m not letting anyone interrupt this,” he growls.
A minute later, he has me up on the counter, layers of tulle bunched between us as he tugs my panties aside, and thrusts his cock inside me.
“Oh, god,” I whimper.
He grabs the back of my neck, dipping me into a kiss as he fucks me deep. It’s an intense, primal sort of claim that lights up my entire body and makes me throw all caution to the wind.
When we come up for air, I kiss my way along his jaw as he makes a sound I feel right between my thighs.
There’s something so beautiful about watching his control unravel, and knowing I’m the one to do that to him.
His rough praise heats my blood and gets me so high, it sends me over the edge too fast to stop it.
Shuddering waves of pleasure roll through me as he fucks me through the orgasm and empties himself inside me with a groan.
In the aftermath, he slows things down and kisses me like we have all the time in the world. But right on cue, Nonna calls out in search of us, and our gazes meet before we both laugh.
“I’ll be out in a minute, Nonna,” Cristian tells her through the door.
“And what about your bride?” she asks.
“She’ll be out in a minute too.”
She lets out a flurry of disgruntled Italian, and Cristian gives me a lazy smile as he pulls out. “Still worth it.”
He helps me get cleaned up quickly as Nonna bangs on the door, then he sets me on my feet as he walks over to open it. It’s only then I realize he has lipstick smeared all over his neck, which means it’s undoubtedly smeared on my face too.
Nonna confirms it when she takes one look at the two of us and wallops him in the arm with her sandal.
“Madonna santa, Cristiano Vittorio Vitale!” She shoos him off. “Go outside, and think about what you’ve done.”
“Yes, Nonna.” He gives me a not-at-all-apologetic look. “I’ll see you out there, baby.”
“See you soon.” I bite back a smile.
My amusement dies as Nonna examines my face and shakes her head. I try to look properly chastised, but I’m not sure I succeed.
“You must leave a little mystery for the wedding night,” she says.
“I think it may be a little late for that.” My lips quirk as I press a hand to my belly.
Nonna slides a finger across her lips. “We won’t tell the priest.”
“Okay,” I agree, though I’m not sure Cristian’s cousin Pepe—who’s officiating the wedding—could actually be considered a priest.
“Let’s get you fixed up.” Nonna grabs some tissues to clean my face.
She grumbles in Italian, presumably about her robust grandson, and when she’s finished, I reapply my lipstick.
“Alright.” I blow out a breath. “I think I’m ready.”
Nonna’s eyes get a little misty as she cradles my face in her palm. “Your mother is watching over you, and she would be so proud.”
“Oh, Nonna.” I pinch the bridge of my nose as I try to swallow my emotions. “Here come the waterworks.”
“It’s okay.” She smiles softly. “A few tears on your wedding day are expected.”
“Thank you, Nonna,” I whisper.
“We’re your family now.” She presses her fingers to the gold cornicello pendant around my neck. “And we protect our family.”
It takes me a minute to gather myself before I can verbalize my thoughts.
“Nonna, why did you give this to me before my wedding day? Mariella said you never do that.”
“Sometimes you have to give fate a little push.” Her eyes glitter mischievously. “And I’m always right.”
“Women usually are,” I agree.
She gives me a conspiratorial smile as she takes me by the arm. “Exactly.”
Five minutes later, I meet my small army of bridesmaids, and an eager Nella ready for her role as flower girl.
We opted to have the groomsmen stand with Cristian while my bridesmaids do a solo procession. And because I’m already late, there’s only time for a quick round of hugs before the ceremony begins.
After my bridesmaids make their journey, Mariella leads a string quartet in an instrumental rendition of “La Vie En Rose,” and Nonna walks me down the garden path.
Everything is beautiful and perfect. Golden sunlight shining down on us, roses in bloom, salt air carried on the breeze, and citrus perfuming the air. I’m not looking over my shoulder, or scanning for threats, or running through a mental checklist of all the things that could go wrong.
I’m happy, relaxed, and…free. All because of the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle. He’s my safety. My calm in a world of chaos. My home.
As I meet him and he takes my hands in his, I have an unshakable confidence for once in my life that everything is exactly as it should be.
Everything will be okay, because I have him.
And when cousin Pepe pronounces us husband and wife, I know I’m never letting him go.
Likewise, he whispers in my ear in a language I can understand.
“Mechri tin teleftaía mou anása.”
It’s Greek—the words a promise and a vow.
Until my last breath.