Chapter 3
RUBY
There’s a stunning arch of white and pink roses that overlooks the crystal-blue lake surrounded by cypress trees and pretty villas on the hills.
Musicians play a classical twist on a song I know but can’t remember the name of.
Francesca looks beautiful, but it’s not her, or Amber and Daisy with Alpi, that I watch as they walk towards where I’m standing, discreetly to the side.
No. That’s the bride’s uncle, who accompanies her up the aisle. Dante. That man is so fine, he makes the air too thick to breathe.
He prowls. There’s no other word for it. He’s a big jungle cat with his green eyes. His sister and niece have the same eyes, but somehow, they look different on him, with his tattoos and height.
The wedding guests from both sides of the aisle eye Dante warily, as though he’s a predator amongst prey and despite the disguise of his perfect tux, they can sense that he’s not like them. That he’s a threat. Whether he really is, or not, I have no idea.
Francesca has her hand on his arm and inappropriate jealousy bubbles up from my chest, acidic and stinging.
I swallow it down. Seriously, what am I on? He’s not mine. One look and him steadying me doesn’t give me any more right to feel envious of someone who touches him than if I were a bag of peanuts he rescued from a snack machine.
But I have this weird feeling that Dante belongs to me.
I step in and take Alpi’s white leather and gem-encrusted lead from Amber, who gives me a grateful smile and all but collapses into her chair.
I’ve been placed on the inside of the front row, with Dante next to me, Lucia beside him, and then Amber and Daisy discreetly on the end in case they need to leave to enable the exit of seafood.
I get Alpi settled at my feet, and he’s as good as gold with his ring pillow on his back.
“Dearly beloved, we are gather-shed here,” the priest begins, and, eek. Eek. He’s slurring. And swaying slightly.
I glance at Dante, and his brows are low in a dark scowl and tilts his chin up as he looks down at me.
It’s a silent, almost invisible acknowledgement, as though we understand each other.
Is there anything we can do about a possibly inebriated priest? No. But we’ll be ready if this escalates. Dante gives me a tiny smile, and I give him one back. We’re on the same team. We’re connected.
Which is ridiculous, of course. But the feeling persists.
“He sounds funny,” says a boy in the third row of the groom’s side of the guests.
His mother hushes him, but the kid isn’t wrong.
It takes approximately two minutes, and Alpi is restless. He gets up and sits down, then whines. Perhaps this wedding is a bit more for him than anyone expected.
Thankfully the priest is talking, so no one hears.
I seriously contemplate walking off with Alpi to give him a leg stretch, but flicking my gaze to the bride, I think better of the idea. She keeps looking between her husband-to-be and Alpi, as though the little dog is emotional support.
And what would I say? I took the pet away because he seemed to have “needs a walk” vibes? I’m not a dog trainer, I’m a junior hairdresser who mostly sweeps up and makes cups of tea. Plus, I’m right in the middle of the guests, at the front. Everyone would see.
A reading begins by one of the groom’s aunts, and I’m happy to see her hair is still looking as good as I left it.
“Love is not grand gestures,” the aunt says.
Alpi finally sits down, and I think we’re in the clear.
Until he rolls slightly, cocks his leg in the air, and starts licking his bum.
“Helping each other…”
The noise is… not ideal. He’s slurping. There’s an audible—maybe even loud—wet sound as he really gets involved.
Dante glowers down at Alpi, and I gently tug on his leash, which he ignores, pausing only to switch to nibble the fur around his anus. I can smell his dog breath from here.
“Finding joy in ordinary moments…”
And then I notice it. Not only is he sucking his balls, Alpi is also giving an anatomy lesson about boy dogs.
“Love grows with us together…”
He has his lipstick out. A small, pink, and unmistakable little dog penis pokes up. In the middle of the wedding, at the front.
The parents of the groom in the row opposite have definitely noticed. Amber and Daisy have identical expressions of disgust. Amber has her hand over her mouth, as though the bottom sucking might induce her to blow chunks. Again.
Lucia is studiously ignoring Alpi, eyes glued to her daughter, even though I know she can hear. And see.
“…A safe place to land…”
I tug on the leash again, which interrupts the butt licking for ooh, about half a second.
Then I remember the cheese. I quickly fish it out and, casual as you like, drop one for Alpi.
The effect is immediate.
His balls are forgotten. The public wanking is forgotten. Instantly, Alpi has gulped down his treat and is sitting beautifully. He could be in a toilet roll advert, he’s that cute, gazing up at me, little white ears pricked and big dark eyes focused.
When the aunt finishes the reading, there’s a short silence. No Alpi licking his balls. It’s perfect. The bride and the groom gaze at each other. The guests sigh over how romantic it is.
I drop another piece of cheese, just to keep the peace.
“When is the cake?” the boy says in the loudest whisper possible, breaking the hush. There are a few stifled laughs.
We get through a touching poem read by Lucia in the same way, with intermittent cheese, and the priest’s reading from the bible.
When it’s too long between cheese pieces, Alpi taps me on the leg with his paw to remind me that he’s there, and the most important part of this wedding.
I quickly accommodate him, because he’s obviously stressed by this whole event, and I don’t blame him.
It’s a lot for me too. Also, this dress is borrowed and must be really expensive, and I do not want to have to explain that I was stingy with cheese and therefore Alpi destroyed it.
Which is fine until I reach for the next bit of cheese, and there’s nothing.
Alpi watches my purse, clearly expecting more treats.
“And now, the wows,” slurs the priest, and Dante visibly winces.
Alpi is getting increasingly frustrated with me. The paw slaps get more insistent.
“For richer and poorer,” the priest intones.
“Who are Richard and Cora?” stage whispers the little boy, and is shushed by his parent, but he’s not wrong.
“In sickness and in health.”
Alpi jumps up with both paws, and that’s fine. I subtly move to push him off.
But he’s latched on.
And then he begins to hump my leg.
With energy.
I’m frozen in horror. I have no idea what to do. Drag Alpi away? But that will draw everyone’s attention, which is still focused on the happy couple as they make their intimate vows.
Alpi is digging his side claws painfully into my lower leg, and is thrusting like he’s starring in a doggy porno and making up for my lacklustre performance.
“I promise to always hold your hand,” the groom says very sweetly.
My cheeks go red.
Humiliatingly, this is the closest to sex I’ve ever been, and it’s a horny dog with my calf, in a borrowed dress.
The bit with the rings is coming up, and if I’ve dragged the ring bearer off for being a sex-pest, I’ll ruin the whole thing, everyone will be annoyed with me, and I’ll have messed up yet again.
I stay put, and hope Alpi tires himself out. Soon.
As soon as he’s been the ring-bearer, I’ll slip away and find an appropriate object for Alpi’s lust. Or give him a cold shower.
I don’t know why, but I glance up at Dante just as he turns his head, noticing the sound.
His brows tighten as he sees my—no doubt panicked—expression, then slides down to Alpi, who shifts to get a better angle on my leg.
“You are my light in the darkness, and my ship in the storm,” the groom continues.
I have to do something, but before I can tug on Alpi’s leash again, Dante sticks his foot out.
For a second I think he’s lost his mind.
“You give me strength.” The groom’s voice is full of sincerity.
Then Dante’s elegant leather shoe slips under Alpi’s back legs and lifts him an inch from the ground.
Alpi continues to hump enthusiastically, even with a total lack of dignity or traction.
But after a couple of seconds, he loses balance and his paws thud as he falls. That was totally gross, and utterly genius.
Dante casually keeps his foot under Alpi’s hips, effectively stopping him, while watching the ceremony with all the appearance that there’s nothing else going on.
It’s amazing. My heartbeat returns to normal gradually, and Alpi calms his libido, eventually to the point that Dante allows him control over his mobility.
Dante shoots a look sideways at me and my heart leaps. He nods approvingly and warmth shivers over my skin. It’s a private, conspiratorial glance, just for me. It says that we are partners in this mission to ensure the wedding goes off without a hitch.
I give him a grateful smile that hopefully conveys how pleased I am that he saved the day.
“And now for the exchange of rings,” the priest intones.
I let a perfectly behaved Al Poochino go to the couple, and there are “aww!” and “isn’t he sweet?” noises from the guests.
Alpi wags his tail as the groom takes the rings off the little cushion strapped to his back. He then accepts hand licks from Alpi, and scratches behind his ears.
And that is real love, because Francesca smiles happily at her soon-to-be-husband getting on so well with her dog.
Good thing neither of them knows that not long ago Alpi was using that same tongue to lick his balls.