9. Antonio
Chapter nine
Antonio
“ I believe you wanted to say a few words,” the celebrant says, looking directly at me.
Lucia’s hand flinches within my tight grasp. I didn’t tell her I prepared personal vows, as that would have added a layer of panic to her obvious nervous demeanor.
As today drew closer, Lucia had become increasingly withdrawn, no longer sharing her thoughts, worries, and dreams. I hate that she’s hiding her feelings and putting this distance between us, whether deliberate or not.
I turn fully to face her so I can hold both of her hands and reduce some of the trembling in her fingers.
“Luce?” I whisper, to lift her gaze to mine, and when our eyes lock, I begin.
“Just like when we were kids standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump into the water far below, today I’m asking you to take a very different leap of faith.
One that’s probably a lot scarier because it’s hard to know where we’ll land.
But just like then, when you trusted me to keep you safe by holding your hand, I promise I won’t let go now. ”
My chest squeezes tight as her eyes become watery pools, and I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the lump stuck there.
“Before you agree to be my wife, I wanted you to know that I’m right here beside you every step of the way.
We’re in this together, and I promise to do my best to never let you down.
I’ll be your support when you need lifting.
Your safety net when you’re feeling unsteady.
And most importantly, your best friend, just like I’ve always been.
” Her eyes drop to our joined hands, and I give hers a light squeeze.
“I want you to be happy and able to fulfill all of those dreams for the future that you’ve shared with me. ”
Her eyes flicker up, and a single tear slips down her pale, flawless cheek as she whispers, “Grazie.”
The celebrant leans forward. “Now you will each make your formal vows.” He turns to me.
“Antonio Romeo Barbieri, do you take Lucia Francesca Romano to be your lawfully wedded wife? To protect, respect, and cherish from this day forward? For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health?”
“I do.” My response is strong and heartfelt, even if the words we agreed on weeks ago sound hollow without love. I do love my friend, but Lucia insisted this was a fake marriage in every way but legally, and that it would be disrespectful to the institution to pretend otherwise.
The celebrant turns to Lucia, repeating similar words.
“I do,” she whispers, her green eyes filled with more unshed tears, and the breath I was holding releases audibly, though not as loud as Gio’s beside me. I glare at him, while on his other side, Nico coughs out a laugh.
“Excuse me,” Gio mumbles into his hand, before dropping his gaze to the carpet.
Until Lucia said those two little words, it seems I wasn’t the only one who worried she wouldn’t go through with it.
The celebrant continues, “Lucia and Antonio will now exchange rings as a symbol of their commitment to their marriage.”
I fumble in my suit pocket for the ring box, and Lucia’s eyes widen when I pop the lid open.
Inside, on a bed of black velvet, sit two eighteen karat gold wedding rings.
One is a simple thick band, but it’s the other smaller one that glitters brilliantly, even in the low light.
When I saw it, I knew it was the perfect one for Lucia—a large square-cut emerald that sparkles like Lucia’s beautiful eyes and is surrounded by French pave diamonds.
With shaky fingers, I ease both rings from between the velvet cushions and place them on the tray the celebrant is holding. He mumbles words that barely register until he directs me to place the emerald on Luce’s finger. It slips on, fitting perfectly, and I swallow deeply.
Trembling, she threads the other ring onto my finger, and I stare down at our clasped hands.
“By the authority vested in me by the American Marriage Ministries and the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
My wife. I like the way that sounds. But then, with absolute clarity, he adds, “You may kiss your bride.”
Another part of the ceremony we never spoke about. Lucia, who was skittish before, turns a shade paler. Her eyes appear to darken to a sea green just before a storm. I lower my face to hers. “May I?”
“Sì,” she whispers. And I swear I was going to kiss her right there on the cheek, but somewhere in between, my brain glitched.
Instead, I press my lips to hers, swallowing her soft gasp before her body melts into mine.
Automatically, my arms wrap around her narrow waist, supporting her weight, and my palms flatten against her bare back.
Fucking wow! How did I not know that kissing my best friend would be this amazing?
Lucia tastes of berries, infused with the sweetest and most intoxicating taste of glossy lips.
The waves of her hair tickle the backs of my hands as she stretches up to thread her fingers around my neck.
All other thoughts have been obliterated by her hot touch as she scratches her claim into my skin.
I’m lost, confused, and so fucking turned on, until Gio jabs me in the shoulder blade, and I spring back.
My arms drop to my sides, and I try to suck air back into my lungs.
My gaze never wavering from Lucia. It’s like I’m truly seeing her for the first time.
A gorgeous, passionate woman who has just become my wife.
Sparks explode behind her eyes, and I have to look away before I pull her back into my arms. The place I’m now convinced she belongs.
My gaze screeches to a halt when it hits Gio. The smirk across his mouth says he knows something I don’t. The vow I just made to protect her might need amending to add, from me .
There’s another jab in the ribs from Gio, and I’m jolted from my trancelike state.
A slap on the back from Leo and Nico, and I’m thinking they should be aiming at my face.
If they only knew the dirty thoughts running through my head about Lucia, they’d be taking me outside and roughing me up.
She’s their friend, too, and with this marriage being one of convenience, no one is meant to get hurt. Or catch these kinds of feelings.
Leo encourages our group to move toward the private room where he’s arranged a small celebratory dinner.
My gaze finds Lucia’s again, but this time, she’s the one quickly looking away.
A wash of color pinkens her pale skin, and she’s never looked more beautiful to me.
I think it could be my favorite color on her.
The meal Leo organized is exceptional, and the wedding cake—white chocolate mud—he brought with him from his restaurant a perfect end to it. But as nice as the food and company is, no one appears to want to linger.
Gio rises first to leave. “Early flight tomorrow,” he announces by way of explanation, but I know the truth.
He’s eager to return to New York to fix his own relationship problems. Leo follows him out, as they’re traveling together on the company jet, and he hates being away from the restaurant longer than necessary.
The four of us remaining top off our glasses of champagne.
“Are we ready to party?” Nico asks, and I roll my eyes. Sometimes the four-year difference between my youngest brother and me seems far greater, and today is one of those times. “Or not?” he adds, catching my expression.
“I want to party,” Rose replies. “This is my first time to Vegas, and I intend on making the most of it before I fly home.”
Nico jumps up from the table. “Well, let me be your personal Vegas tour guide.”
“Is that okay with you, Luce?” Rose asks.
“Of course, go have fun. But please be gentle with Nico? He’s young and impressionable,” she jokes.
Nico roars with laughter, the sound still echoing as the two leave.
I’ve no idea what they’re planning to do, and honestly, it’s probably best not knowing.
Individually, Nico and Rose are wild. Together?
Who knows what the fallout could be. But both of them are more than capable of getting themselves out of trouble, and I’ve got enough problems of my own to deal with.
Like discussing with my new wife that kiss we shared.
Gio’s private words to me after the ceremony still ring in my ears. “Talk to her and tell her how you feel. Keeping secrets will only cause more problems.” I don’t know how he guessed that something changed with the kiss. I’m not even sure I know what it meant.
And now that Luce and I are alone, my gut whirs with the indecision of whether to confront these new feelings head-on.
“Another glass of champagne? Or would you like to go up to the suite?” I ask, as the waiters clear the plates around us.
“Let’s go up,” she says.
The walk to the elevator and the ride up to our penthouse suite are done in total silence.
And as we enter the marble foyer, she crosses to the window, just like she did earlier today, arms wrapped around her waist. Her slim figure is a silhouette against the vibrant light beams of Vegas hotels and the fountain thirty-plus floors below.
“Whiskey?” I ask, walking toward the minibar to pour myself a glass.
“Sì,” she murmurs.
I pour a single measure for her and a double for me. I need something to tamp down the lustful thoughts I’ve been having since that first taste of her lips. A moment engraved into my memory—one no amount of wishing to brush it off on my end will ever erase.
I’ve always thought Lucia a beautiful woman. Hell, I thought she was cute when we were in our teens. But this need to touch her, taste her, and hear her moan my name is entirely new.
How can one kiss change everything?
But it did. My perception of her has shifted from friend to the most desirable woman I’ve ever had the privilege of holding in my arms. And that woman is now my wife.
With both glasses clasped in my hands, I walk over to join her at the window.
“Grazie,” she says, taking one of the glasses. Our fingers brush with a zap of electricity, and I nearly drop my own.
I swallow a gulp of the fiery liquid, hoping to dull my reaction to being this close to her again, and focus my gaze out the window. Crowds of people still fill the Strip sidewalks even this late. “They say New York is the city that never sleeps, but I’d say Vegas deserves that title.”
“Hmm.”
Already, cracks are forming between us, and it’s all my fault. I should have just kissed her cheek like I’ve done hundreds—if not thousands—of times before. That would have been appropriate. Instead, I crossed a line that should never have been crossed. This isn’t real, and I need to remember that.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out.
“Why?” she asks, and in the window’s reflection, a tiny crease forms between her brows.
I draw in a deep breath, then release it again, before saying, “The kiss.”
“I’m not sorry,” she whispers. “It was good.”
She turns to face me, a small smile tipping up the corners of her pretty mouth. I’m floored.
“I thought maybe you were having regrets.”
She shakes her head, and the loose auburn waves dance across her shoulders. “No regrets. It’s strange, but now that it’s done, I’m less worried.”
“But you looked so sad?”
“Not sad. Emozionale.” She raises her hand to her heart.
“The words you said about not letting go of me and us being in this together. You’ve never let me down, and I trust that you won’t now.
” She reaches out to place a hand on my arm.
“I want our marriage to work. You’re a good man, and I’m proud to be your wife. ”
Slowly, she looks up, and her emerald eyes glitter with pinpoints of light from the chandelier above. This beautiful woman is my wife, and my heart thumps in my chest.
Raising her hand, she places her delicate fingers along my jawline.
The gentle touch sending a blast of heat through my blood and south to my cock.
There’s a look in her eye that I don’t recognize.
Passion, maybe? But one blink of her long lashes, and it’s gone as quickly as it appeared.
But it was there, and I’m sure she wants me to kiss her again.
I dip my head, and she tilts hers up. Our lips meet in the middle in a light touch before I paint her cheek and jawline with a string of small kisses.
She’s my destiny, and I can’t help sharing the revelation. “You were always mine,” I whisper against the soft skin on her neck.
Gasping, she places both hands on my chest and pushes back.
“No, Antonio. Let’s get one thing clear.
I belong to nobody.” Her chin tilts higher, and fire burns in the green depths of her irises as she meets my gaze.
This isn’t like her; she’s never been quick to temper, and especially with me.
It has me second-guessing every word I utter, and I’ve never had to do that in the past.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
With one hand planted on her hip, she continues to stare at me, a questioning tilt to one brow. “Exactly how did you mean it, then?”
My heavy sigh releases into the stony silence.
“Talk to me, Luce. What is really upsetting you? Because I’m pretty sure it’s not my poorly chosen words that’s causing this.
” I reach for her hand, and she lets me.
“You know I would never treat you like you were my property. I respect you too much to do that.”
Her shoulders sag and her gaze drops. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.” She whispers so softly that I have to lean in to catch the words.
“Neither do I. But whatever it is, at least we’re doing it together. Today I vowed to be beside you every step of the way, and I meant it.”
Her head remains bowed.
“Please look at me,” I plead. “Luce?” Her name’s a question, delivered in a raspy voice that I don’t recognize as my own.
Her gaze lifts, and she places a finger against my mouth.
“Shhh,” she whispers. Then, standing on tiptoes, she replaces her finger with the firm press of her sweet lips to mine.
She tastes of whiskey and chocolate cake.
A delicious combination. And I thread my fingers through hers to pull her closer.
Fuck! It’s like the kiss before, overwhelming and hot. Except this time, we don’t have an audience, and there’s no reason to stop.
Lucia was always different from other women. But it’s only as our tongues duel and we each try to meld our bodies into one that I realize it was because there was always something more to our connection.
I’m not sure if we solved anything, but with this beautiful woman in my arms, I can’t think clearly enough to care.