Chapter 7
LORENZO
The wedding officiant greets me.
“It’s time,” he says, glancing at his watch. “You may wish to find your bride.”
Scotch in hand, I turn and scan the room.
Caterers finish setting up the buffet while guests take their seats.
But where is Emily?
Could I have scared the Boston Bluestocking off?
If I did, Dante would never let me hear the end of it.
First thing, I check the bar and the outdoor deck. She’s not in either place.
Shit.
My glass sweats against my palm.
I finally find her behind the slightly open door of the powder room I’d used earlier.
Angie is crouched at Emily’s feet, steadying her ankle. I see Gina coaxing a lace garter up the pale length of Emily’s calf.
Emily’s tweed suit jacket hangs on the towel hook behind her.
With the boxy jacket off, Emily has a remarkably fine figure.
At once, the girls notice me and straighten up. Gina smooths Emily’s outfit while Angie slips out past me.
“The officiant’s ready. Shall we?” I say, holding out my arm. Emily takes it without a word, her chin lifted and her jaw set.
We move down the hall together.
The small orchestra strikes up “Here Comes the Bride” as we round the corner into the room.
As soon as we take our places before him, the officiant begins the ceremony.
After his spiel, he turns to me.
“Now you may kiss the bride.”
I lift Emily’s veil. The real-life Emily is much more attractive than the photo Dante first showed me.
Up close, her complexion is vivid, her green eyes are as rich as emeralds, her red-auburn hair a tease the way it coils around her head like an ancient Greek statue.
Oddly, I find myself obsessed with what it must look like hanging loose down her shoulders and flowing down her back.
Well, Emily is my wife now.
I’ll find out soon enough.
As I kiss her, I taste something on her lips like the Cherry Lifesaver candies I loved as a kid.
Probably some newfangled lip gloss.
Emily pulls away quickly.
“And now,” the officiant says. “I pronounce you man and wife.”
The room breaks into applause.
A little girl near the front row flings a fistful of rice that catches me on the chin before scattering across Emily’s veil. I take Emily’s hand and turn to face her.
“It’s time we say goodbye to our guests and we go to our room,” I say.
Her lips purse as I lead her to the private elevator.
When the doors open to my apartment, Emily steps inside but says nothing.
“Like your new digs?”
She shrugs and walks to the window.
“Nice view. Is that Madison Square Garden? Teddy would love a picture,” she says as she snaps one with her phone.
My gut clenches instinctively in jealousy. Whatever my feelings about Emily, she’s still my wife. “Who’s Teddy?”
“My kid brother is at boarding school in the Berkshires, and he’s the only reason I agreed to this marriage. Now, I have to wait until you and my uncle finalize whatever deal you have cooking.”
Emily continues to glare at me.
“And speaking of my uncle, he was vague about this arrangement. Your employee Ciro showed me the apartment. Why is it that there’s only one bed?”
“Because there’s only one bed in this apartment.”
“And we’re expected to share it?” Emily says, hands on hips.
“You are my wife, in the eyes of the law.”
“My uncle didn’t reveal the reason for this temporary marriage but did say consummation wasn’t necessary. May I have your word as a gentleman that this is true?”
Her tone is matter-of-fact. Like she’s read the fine print and found a clause.
“You have nothing to fear on that point. I have no interest in complicating this arrangement.”
I straighten my jacket.
“And now, I have things to attend to at the office. See you later tonight.”