12. Lucia
Chapter twelve
Lucia
“ T hat went well,” Ant says as he leads me to his car, his palm resting on the small of my back.
I preferred it when I was tucked into his side.
With a glance back at the house, my eyes go immediately to the office windows.
The large silhouette framed by the interior lights is obviously my father’s, and a shiver runs up my spine.
He draws me closer. “Are you okay?”
I nod as he opens the passenger door, and I slide in.
It’s impossible for me to form the words in Italian or English to explain the sadness in my heart.
My father has made it clear that he will never forgive me for the disloyalty I showed in disobeying his wishes.
I’d always suspected but never understood the level of dislike he had for Antonio, but it was on full display tonight.
His hatred for my husband unleashed in a vitriolic outburst. He couldn’t even look him in the eye when Ant spoke.
What did Ant ever do to him? Nothing that I remember. In fact, until that last summer, he always encouraged Dante and me to spend time with the Barbieri brothers. But as it turns out, that was the same summer he made the agreement with Antonio’s father for me to marry Giovanni.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur once the car wheels are crunching on the gravel as we drive toward the iron gates. I never want to return to this house again.
Ant reaches for my hand, wrapping his warm palm around my frozen fingers and spreading heat from the tips up my arms and through the rest of my body. “You don’t need to apologize for your father’s behavior. We shocked him, and he just reacted badly.”
“Don’t make excuses for him. What he said about you was unforgiveable.”
“Lucky for me, I didn’t understand all of his rapid-fire Italian.” He throws me a lopsided grin, but I can see right through his attempt to make light of the moment.
“But what happens now?” I ask, relief flooding my body as we drive through the gates.
“Well …” He gives my hand a light squeeze. “Tonight, I will call my father and let him know. Then tomorrow, we will make an announcement to the press, and we will plan a party to celebrate our marriage.”
“Really, a party? After what my father just said to us?”
“Yes, Luce, a party. A big party with all of our friends and family right here in Florence.”
My brow creases as I tilt my head to look at him. His profile is all sharp edges, from his straight nose to the high cheekbones and down to his chiseled jaw, as he concentrates on the road. He’s serious.
“And would we be inviting my father to this party?” I ask.
“Of course, he’s family.” He glances sideways, and a small smile tips the corners of his mouth.
“I bet he comes, too, especially when he learns the press will be invited.” He turns his head away as he navigates the early-evening traffic.
“If it’s okay with you, I can ask my media marketing department to look into an exclusive magazine deal. ”
“Okay. But for the record, I think it’s a crazy idea.”
“No. Just pragmatic. I learned a long time ago that controlling the narrative is the best approach.”
“After that woman you had dinner with a few years ago sold her story to the British press?”
His jaw clenches. “Exactly. It was all a bunch of lies because I didn’t offer her a second date.”
“I know it was lies. She said you had a small dick, and from what I saw yesterday, it’s blatantly untrue. You’re huge.”
He chokes out a laugh. “Thanks.”
I don’t know how he does it, but when I lean my head back and close my eyes, it’s my husband’s impressive package that I’m thinking about rather than the earlier argument with my father.
***
Two Weeks Later
“We did it,” Rose says, hooking her arm through mine. “Best wedding reception ever, and we pulled it together in record time.”
Smiling, I scan the gathered group of guests, Antonio’s friends from the world of business mixing with mine from the fashion industry.
Everybody seems to be having a wonderful time, even my parents.
Probably because my father, who came just as Ant predicted, has spent most of the evening with Ant’s father and uncles, talking about business and politics.
While my mother has been flitting about like the social butterfly she considers herself to be, jumping between groups of minor local and international celebrities and the wives of rich businessmen.
“I think we can call it a success. And I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“Just doing my duty as your maid of honor.”
“Above and beyond, my friend.”
Dante swoops in, grabbing Rose in a hug and spinning her off her feet. She squeals with delight as she hugs him back. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, Rose.”
My brother has been traveling in South America on business for a couple of months and flew in today especially for the wedding party.
“Hey, where’s my hug?” I demand, and he scoops me up and spins me just like he did Rose. He’s such a hulk of a man that it’s hard to remember he was once my skinny, shy little brother. “I’ve missed you.”
He barks out a laugh. “Not too much, I suspect, with a new husband.”
I grin up at him as he drops an arm around my shoulders and then one around Rose.
At the mention of Ant, I search the crowd and find my husband on the far side of the room, flanked by his brothers. His smoky gaze finds mine, like he instinctively knew my eyes were on him, and he smiles. My heart stutters at the sexy look that’s only for me.
While the couple of weeks since the wedding have been busy for both of us, between work and planning the party, there’s been a distinct shift in our relationship. An invisible connection that started knitting together the night we exchanged vows and grows stronger every day.
True to his word, we’re taking things slowly as we make the adjustment from friends to husband and wife.
I’ve continued to sleep in the spare bedroom in Ant’s suite at the Forbes Hotel when I’m in Florence, and we haven’t shared any more kisses.
With his travels to the States and mine to Paris, we’ve barely seen each other.
It’s frustrating as hell being married to the most handsome man I know without having a chance to strip him naked.
His brow rises in question as we hold the stare, and I smile before turning my attention back to Dante and Rose.
“Lucia, my favorite sister-in-law,” Nico says, joining our circle and giving me a hug with a kiss on each cheek. “Rose,” he adds with less enthusiasm. She narrows her gaze before offering her cheeks. He kisses one, then the other, but she doesn’t hug him.
Dante, on the other hand, has no such reluctance, grabbing him for a hug and adding a hearty slap on his back.
“It’s been years, man.” It amuses me to hear Dante use the Americanisms. The Barbieri brothers were responsible for teaching him those, and then four years of college in the States gave him the hint of an accent to go along with them.
The two men slip easily back into their childhood friendship, while Rose appears completely disinterested in their banter.
I suspected something happened between Rose and Nico in Vegas, and now I’m sure of it. She can keep repeating the famous saying, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, every time I ask, but I’ll get it out of her eventually.
“Let’s get another drink,” I suggest, tugging on her elbow. “We’ll see you guys later.”
I lead her through the open doors out onto the terrace that overlooks Florence, the dome and bell tower of the Duomo rising above a sea of terracotta buildings.
My aunt’s villa is the perfect location for the party, and when Mamma suggested it, I was thrilled.
I loved spending time here as a child, the house more like a family home than mine ever could be, and the garden a dream playground.
We stop at the bar, set up at one end of the tiled area that runs the length of the villa, and order two glasses of red wine—from the Barbieri estates, of course.
“I’m not going to ask you why you looked like you needed rescuing when Nico joined us, but I will say that I noticed, and I suspect he did too.”
“Good. And thanks for the rescue.” She shrugs. “It was just Vegas. A city full of temptation and bad decisions.”
“Right.”
The bartender places two glasses on the counter, and when we pick them up, we clink them together. “Cin cin.”