Violet
The next day…
I sleep through our fuel stop in Dubai. I sleep until it's almost time to land. Marcello wakes me with kisses and asks me if I want to take a shower and have lunch before the plane sets down in Malé, the capital of Hulhulé island, from where a yacht will take us to our island.
I start with the shower, surprised to find the bathroom as luxurious as the rest of the plane, putting any bathroom in any apartment I've ever visited to shame.
The water pressure is heavenly when it pelts down my body.
My skin is still humming and super sensitive from last night's orgasm. Just thinking about it curls my toes.
In a small cabinet, I find a brand-new toothbrush and paste as well as large towels. Feeling somewhat myself again, I return to the bedroom, where Marcello has already put my overnight bag on the bed and opened my cosmetic bag for me.
"You, Marcello Orsi," I say, walking over and kissing him, "are the perfect man."
"That's what I've been telling you the entire time," he grins, but I can tell my compliment pleases him.
I don't think he has received many in a long time, other than maybe an atta boy from Luciano for killing someone.
That thought alone should strike me dead, but it's my way of coming to grips with who he is, whom I'm about to pledge to spend the rest of my life with.
Stacy enters with a rolling cart filled with steaming coffee and a brunch assortment that would put a five-star restaurant to shame.
She avoids looking in my direction, but flutters her eyelashes at him.
This is probably something else I'll need to get used to.
The fact that Marcello is engrossed in looking through my overnight bag and ignoring her is somewhat soothing.
"Are you picking my clothes for me now?" I ask teasingly, while I reach for a fluffy-looking pastry and dip it into a small bowl filled with cherry jam.
"You don't have any jewelry," he turns. "Or did you put that into another bag?"
I take a bite and realize I'm starving. My stomach makes a sound that could be either happy or angry while I walk over to my makeup bag, from where I retrieve my jewelry, fancily packed in a zipper bag. "It's right here. What are you looking for?"
His brows draw together. "This won't do. None of this is real."
I laugh. Buying jewelry has never been high on my priority list. Not when it's always come down to deciding if I want to shorten the student loan or have electricity.
His frown remains. I wiggle my finger with the large diamond ring he gave me. "This is very real."
"We'll stop in Malé and get you started on a real collection."
My stomach gargles for more food, but I ignore it, stepping in front of my fiancé—I still love saying and thinking that word—to give him a kiss. "I just need you. Nothing else."
He kisses me back with a surprising intensity. "I know, which is why you mean so damn much to me."
He still hasn't said those three words to me, not specifically, but in moments like this, I don't need to hear them; I feel his deep affection for me.
A few days later…
The following days are like a dream—a dream I never want to wake up from.
A series of bungalows is arranged right on top of the calm, crystal clear ocean.
Wooden bridges interconnect them like the most fantastical streets.
There are ten bungalows in all, all empty for the time being, with a palatial-looking one situated at the end, that, as Marcello explains, is reserved for the bride and groom.
He offers that we can move in until they get here.
As nice as it is, I prefer ours. It's smaller, yes, but still a good three thousand square feet with any amenity you can possibly think of or want.
There is a veranda, right out into the ocean, offering an infinity pool and spa, and another spa inside the generous living room.
It has outside and inside showers, and a staircase that leads down toward the ocean, with another small platform to sit on and watch the fish swim.
The bedroom offers an oversized, oval bed, and the floor is made of glass, so you can lie on the bed and stare down at the creatures that inhabit the area underneath the water.
For several days, we go snorkeling and paddle boarding on the most beautiful, clear water imaginable. I watch parrotfish, clownfish, triggerfish, and even an octopus and several eagle rays. The reef sharks scare me, but Marcello assures me they don't pose any danger to us.
The island itself is only a few square miles wide.
We walk the white sand all the way around it, several times, collecting all kinds of amazing seashells.
The center is filled with coconut palms and tropical flowers.
We discover a small pond and try to outdo each other in who will sight the most beautiful bird.
One night on the beach, we watch a handful of sea turtles make their nests in the sand.
"I wish we could stay here forever," I whisper, listening to the soft waves and the leaves rustling in the breeze further down.
"We can come back here anytime you want," he promises. We sit arm in arm on the still warm sand, our feet barely touch the water, just enough that now and then I feel a tiny octopus or fish gently nip on one of my toes.
"Promise?"
He leans over and brushes his lips over my forehead. "Promise, tesoro. Anything for you."
"You don't like it?" I tease.
"I like it because you do, but I'm not too fond of all the sand between my toes and in the bed."
I laugh, "That's your fault for not cleaning your feet properly."
"Hmm, I beg to differ," he mumbles, his eyes roaming the tree line. By the way his body relaxes, I know he spots one or two of the guards, who are occupying one of the bungalows and mostly keeping out of our sight.
"I love you," I can't stop myself from saying, because everything here is magical and my heart feels like it's going to explode if I don't voice some of my feelings.
I'm not shy about saying it any longer, even though I know he won't say it back.
Even though he insists he isn't capable of love, I know he does love me, which is all that matters.
As always, he stiffens slightly. I know the words make him uncomfortable, and I try not to say them too much, but in moments like this, emotions carry me away.
On the other hand, I wonder if I should say it to him more often; maybe that'll inoculate him. A slight giggle escapes me at the analogy. Like taking poison every day to make your body immune, but instead of giving him arsenic, I'll tell him every day that I love him.
"What's so funny?" He wants to know, leaning back.
"Oh, nothing, really," I giggle again. There's no way I'm going to tell him that I'm thinking about poisoning him with I love yous to make him immune.
A couple hours after we return from our shopping spree in Malé the next day, the first guests start to arrive by helicopter.
Marcello pulls me with him to the end of the pier, and I have to raise my hands over my face to keep it from being pebbled with sand.
Quickly, Marcello puts himself between me and the sand, making me smile.
Yeah, you can't feel love, my ass, I think.
A man and a woman are the first to disembark, and they walk right toward us.
They make a handsome couple, and by the way he slings his arm around her shoulder and how she leans into him, it's easy to see how much they mean to each other.
The man is just as built as Marcello, tall, dark, and handsome, while the woman looks like one of those fashion models, with dark brown hair styled in gentle waves, currently being ruffled by the wind from the helicopter blades.
Even from a few feet away, it's her eyes that startle the most. They remind me of the whiskey Marcello likes to drink.
I don't think I've ever seen eyes like hers before.
The men shake hands before Marcello introduces, "Violet, this is Enrico Sartori and his wife, Catalina."
"Cat, please." She smiles at me, holding out her hand.
Her expression is open and warm, and I like her immediately. "The happy bride and groom are not here yet?" Enrico asks.
"They should be here soon, or they'll be late for their own wedding," Marcello smirks.
More men, guards, I assume—if this keeps up, we'll have an entire army here—disembark the chopper, loaded down with luggage.
"This way," I tell Cat, feeling a bit silly, since it's obvious where we need to go, but she takes it good-naturedly.
According to Marcello, she and Enrico only got married recently. A wedding that ended with a bomb hidden in the cake. I shudder, hoping nothing like that happens here.
Then I shudder again—this time at myself—for not immediately running for the hills after even thinking something like that was possible. I don't know what to say to her. I heard your wedding was a big… blast? Bombshell event? High-impact celebration
Yeah, probably not the best opener. So instead, I just smile and say, "Congratulations on your marriage," and hope she doesn't notice the hesitation in my voice.
She smiles sweetly, "Thank you."
Before we can say another word, a plane approaches.
"Oh, I've never seen a plane land on the water," Cat gushes.
"Me neither," I commiserate. Excitedly, she takes my hand as we watch the little twin-engine plane slow and skid over the water, coming to a halt by the pier not much later.
Several people disembark, five women, giggling and laughing and obviously tipsy, and two men in deep thought, one of whom I think I recognize from the wake, who keeps looking at one of the women in the same possessive way Marcello does at me.
"That's Toni," Cat exclaims, pointing. "And that's Scarlet, his bride." Her finger moves to a beautiful woman who throws a smile at Toni that would melt ice.
All the women in her group are beautiful. It doesn't take long before they reach us, and introductions are made. One woman is Guiliana—Gigi, Toni's sister. The others are Sari, Elli, and Jo, Scarlet's best friends.
An older man, whom I recognize as Judge Lambert—the judge in Marcello's father's trial—is introduced as Bruce, Scarlet's father. He looks so out of place that I start to wonder if I look like that, too, to the others. I hope not.
Later that night, we hold a bonfire on the beach.
It doesn't take long, and not that much alcohol, until we all feel like a happy family.
I've always been aloof with other people; the only friend I ever made is Pippa, and I guess Luciano, in his own way, but this group of people makes me feel like I've finally found a community I fit with, despite Marcello's warning that any of the men could become enemies at any time.
For now, we are all allies in taking Edoardo down, and I have a feeling that the other girls and I will have a vote in who becomes enemies and who doesn't. A smile teases my lips when I realize that part of my new job as Mrs. Orsi will be to ensure that we stay one big happy family.