Chapter 19 #2
My hand lifted instinctively to my hair, fingers brushing the red bloom tucked just behind my ear. “I did.”
His gaze lingered, unhurried. “You looked beautiful walking down the aisle. And right now…” His eyes dipped to my lips, then returned to mine. “You’re stealing my breath away.”
Heat rushed straight to my face. I suddenly had no idea what to do with my hands, my posture, my expression. And my dress wasn’t exactly comfortable.
Compliments from Matteo hit differently – too intimate, too sincere for a man I was supposedly not involved with.
I swallowed. “Thank you. You look very handsome too.”
One dark brow arched. “Did Francesca DeMone just compliment me?”
My smile disappeared before I could stop it. “Not DeMone anymore…”
The words felt heavier than they should’ve.
Matteo’s expression shifted immediately. He leaned forward, closing the space between us, his voice lower now.
“Hey.” His fingers brushed my knuckles, then curled around my hand. “Names don’t change who you are. And they definitely don’t take anything away from you. I’m sorry it all had to happen this way.”
I looked at him, searching his face for something – anger, resentment, distance. There was none of it.
Just calm. Steady warmth.
“You’re still Francesca,” he continued. “Exactly as you were this morning. Exactly as you were when I first met you.”
Something in my chest loosened.
I nodded, unable to trust my voice.
His thumb traced slow circles over my skin, grounding, reassuring. Despite everything – despite the tension, the fight, the unspoken lines between us – he didn’t let go.
Neither did I.
The limo rolled forward, carrying us away from the church, away from the moment we’d just staged so perfectly.
And there we were, sitting side by side, fingers intertwined like it was the most natural thing in the world.
By the time we arrived at the DeMone estate, the sky over the Hamptons had softened into a pale blush, the kind that made everything feel suspended between reality and fantasy.
The ballroom glowed – crystal chandeliers, tall arched windows, white florals everywhere.
It was elegant, excessive, exactly what was expected.
Matteo and I were seated side by side at the main round table, close enough that our knees brushed when we shifted. Around us sat our friends – Maria and Zach stealing kisses, Natalia tucked into Trevor’s side with his hand protectively over her stomach, Kali laughing loudly at something Zane said.
My brothers, Gìovanni and Antonio, were at another table across the room, with my family, already deep in conversation with the rest of the made men.
After pleasantries were exchanged, Maria and Kali stood and made the guys to my side switch with them, insisting we had more important things to talk about, but promised to switch back when the food arrived.
Matteo leaned slightly toward Zach, who sat to his other side, already pulled into conversation with the guys, relaxed and charming, a glass of wine in his hand.
Meanwhile, I turned toward the girls, bracing myself for the interrogation I knew was coming.
“So,” Kali started immediately, eyes sparkling, “That kiss at the altar?”
Natalia leaned in, her smile knowing. “Yeah. Because that did not look fake.”
Maria grinned, unapologetic. “At all.”
Heat crept up my neck. “That was kind of the point,” I said, lifting my glass as casually as I could. “Convincing.”
Kali hummed. “Convincing is one word.”
Their eyes didn’t leave me.
“So, Matteo…” Natalia added lightly, like she wasn’t absolutely dissecting me. “Zach’s older brother, huh?”
I exhaled through a smile. “Yes. That Matteo.”
They waited.
I shifted in my seat, acutely aware of Matteo’s arm resting behind me on the chair, of how solid he felt next to me even while focused elsewhere.
“He’s… exactly what you think he is,” I said carefully.
That only made it worse.
Maria laughed. “That tells us nothing.”
Just then, servers began circulating the room, plates appearing like a rescue mission. The clink of silverware and the hum of conversation rose, pulling attention away from me at last as the girls moved to sit back with their boyfriends.
I released a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding and picked up my fork, grateful for the distraction – and for the fact that, for now, the questions had paused. For now.
Hours later, after dessert plates had been cleared and the room had settled into that warm, golden lull that comes with too much wine and good music, one of the men from the live band stepped forward with a microphone.
“May we have the bride and groom for their first dance?”
The room responded instantly – soft applause building, faces turning toward us.
Matteo stood first. He buttoned his suit jacket with easy confidence, then turned to me and extended his hand.
I placed my hand in his, and we walked together to the center of the ballroom, the polished floor reflecting the chandeliers above us. The band softened into something slow and classic, strings swelling gently as Matteo placed one hand at my waist and lifted my other into his.
He pulled me closer and we began to sway.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, his voice meant only for me.
I nodded, my gaze drifting briefly over his shoulder before returning to him. “I’m dealing with it. One step at a time.”
“Good.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “What did the girls want earlier?”
I exhaled, settling into the rhythm, into him. “They were interrogating me.”
“About?”
“You.”
Matteo let out a soft laugh. “And what did you tell them?”
“The truth.”
He groaned under his breath. “Oh, no.”
I smiled despite myself.
He spun me gently before pulling me back in. “The guys weren’t any better.”
I blinked. “Really?”
“They wanted to know what the deal was between you and me.”
My grip tightened just a little. “And?”
“I told them the truth.”
My heart stuttered. “Matteo.”
He laughed quietly, leaning closer. “Relax. I didn’t tell them your secret.”
I shot him a look. “I don’t have a secret.”
“So us hooking up in Vegas is not a secret?” He murmured, amusement dancing in his eyes.
I swallowed, heat rising fast. “You’re impossible…”
“Don’t worry, Donna. We’ll keep that our secret.” He just smiled, unbothered, steady as ever.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
We just looked at each other – really looked. The noise of the room faded into something distant and dull, like we were standing inside a glass bubble only we could feel. His eyes softened, dark and unreadable, and something settled low in my chest that had nothing to do with the music.
Then the bandleader’s voice cut in again.
“Alright, everyone – let’s get some love on that floor!”
Couples began to join us, laughter and movement filling the space, but Matteo didn’t pull away. He kept me exactly where I was, guiding me gently as we continued to dance.
No more words.
Just the quiet awareness of each other, bodies moving in sync, the world carrying on around us while we stayed right there – together, in the middle of it all.
Later in the night, after the formal dances had come and gone – my father and I, and my mother and her new son-in-law, followed by my own dances with each of my brothers – I felt lighter, like the night had finally loosened its grip on my shoulders.
My brothers had each checked in on me in their own way. One with a quiet squeeze of my hand and a look that said you good?, the other with a crooked smile and a joke that only half-masked concern. I’d smiled through both, meaning it.
What I hadn’t expected half-way through the night, was to look across the floor and see Gìo dancing with Carmen.
Gìo never danced with anyone – especially Mob girls. And Carmen, poised in a silk dress, daughter of Don Moretti of the New York Five Families, looked just as surprised as I felt. They moved easily together, almost like it wasn’t their first time sharing space.
My gaze drifted, instinctively searching for my troublemaker Tony, but I couldn’t spot him anywhere now. He must’ve slipped out for a cigarette. I made a mental note to find him later and let it go.
Before I could sink too far into my thoughts, someone clinked a glass, and the bandleader’s voice rang out again.
“Alright, ladies! Bouquet time!”
A ripple of laughter moved through the room. Girls lined up, even the ones who didn’t believe in marriage. It was still fun.
As I stepped forward, bouquet in hand, I scanned the crowd out of habit, a little disappointed to see Kim wasn’t there.
I frowned slightly, looking again, but she was nowhere in the room. I mentally added to my list of people to check on.
I turned my back to the group, lifted the pink-peony bouquet, and tossed it over my shoulder.
Laughter and cheers went up.
When I turned around, Carmen stood frozen for half a second, bouquet to her chest, eyes wide – like she hadn’t meant to catch it.
I laughed, walking straight to her. “Guess the universe has plans.”
“Don’t scare me!” Carmen laughed too, a little flustered, as I hugged her and kissed her cheek.
The band picked the tempo back up, the night flowing forward like it hadn’t missed a beat. And before I could take two steps back toward my table, Matteo’s hand found mine.
“There you are,” he said easily, already pulling me toward the dance floor again.
I didn’t resist.
As the music swelled and the room blurred back into motion, I let him whisk me away into another dance, the party carrying on around us.