Chapter 32 #2
Kian had insisted I shouldn’t worry about a present, assuring me he had everything handled.
But there was no chance in hell I was going to show up to a wedding—especially Dina’s wedding—without offering something of my own to the bride.
So I cornered Sonya a few days ago and interrogated her about customs and traditions for gift giving. She had been more than helpful.
An elderly woman stepped forward to meet us and pressed a kiss to Kian’s cheek.
“Thank you for coming,” she said warmly, and in that instant the resemblance struck me—it had to be Dina’s mother. “And thank you for allowing Dina the use of the palace for her wedding, Kian. You truly shouldn’t have given them such a generous financial gift on top of that. It was far too much.”
“It was nothing, really,” Kian replied, waving it off. “No more talk of it.” He turned slightly toward me, his one arm around my waist. “This is Sophie.”
“Hello, it’s lovely to meet you,” I said, extending my hand. She took it in both of hers, her grip surprisingly firm.
“Ah—the golden bracelet with rubies.” She chuckled softly. “It’s Dina’s favorite.”
I beamed, relief and pride blooming in my chest at her words.
She leaned in and kissed my cheek, then gestured for a waiter, who appeared almost instantly with a tray of champagne flutes, the sharp scent of alcohol lingering in the air.
Kian accepted three glasses, handing one to Dina’s mother and one to me before taking his own. He raised his flute. “To the bride and groom,” he toasted.
We clinked our glasses and drank the liquid down, despite it being way too early for champagne.
Once Dina’s mother left us, I turned to Kian, stunned, my earlier words already feeling ridiculous.
“This,” I said, my voice nearly swallowed by the percussion instruments all around, “is nothing like I imagined.”
His mouth curved, slow and knowing. “Welcome to your first Albanian wedding.”
The music thumped through the floorboards like a second heartbeat, the celebration still going strong. The air smelled like grilled lamb, alcohol, and rosewater.
Kian had introduced me to everyone. There were only a handful of names I remembered, but it didn’t matter. I was having a good time.
We were seated close to the happy couple, but the two had found their way to our table and now everyone was chatting loudly over the music, their English worsening with each glass of alcohol.
“I love your gift so much,” Dina said again, one of the rare people, like me, who was not drunk at this party. Her fingers traced over the long row of bangles, gold and gemstones catching the light. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for having me here.”
She waved it off, her bangles jingling. “Mr. Cortes is family. That makes you family too.”
I smiled, appreciating her words. “The wedding is amazing. How did you put it together so quickly? And without missing a day’s work.”
In the span of a week, they’d put this masterpiece together. Yes, maybe Kian had provided the space for them, but a lot more went into organizing a party like this.
“First, Mr. Cortes was wonderful to let us use this venue. Second, my mom and aunts. Nobody dares say no to them.” She chuckled conspicuously. “Plus, they didn’t want to wait too long. You know, in case I start… showing. They want the world to believe I entered this marriage pure.”
“Well, they should seriously consider getting into the business, because they rock.”
She chuckled dryly. “They made me pray for my sins for hours the day I told them about”—she lowered her voice, her eyes darting to her stomach before she continued—“you know. If they do that to every customer, they’ll lose them before their business takes off.”
I shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe they’d appreciate it more.”
“Pfft, I sincerely doubt anyone misses those old-fashioned ideals.”
“Sometimes the world needs more of those.”
“I’m surprised you’re not snobbing our customs.”
“Why would I? It’s what makes the world so colorful and beautiful. Besides, who am I to judge any culture, custom, or human being?”
“That’s very open-minded of you.”
“Hardly.”
She flicked a glance to Amir who was deep in conversation with Kian, both sticking to Albanian as they discussed what I presumed was business.
“My mom said rushed marriages rarely end up happy.”
I put my hand over hers. “According to my aunt’s stories, my parents got married in the same exact way and they were incredibly happy.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
She glanced at Amir, her gaze softening as she murmured, “He wasn’t exactly who I envisioned as my forever.”
“Maybe that’s exactly the reason he’s your forever,” I said, my eyes on Kian while my thoughts drifted to Jonathan and the younger me who was convinced there’d be nobody else.
Even as years passed and life moved on, I still thought that.
It was probably why when life threw him on my path again, I caved so easily. Jonathan and I were never meant to be.
“And you?”
I blinked, turning my attention back to Dina to find her looking at me. “Hmm? What do you mean?”
“Do you know your forever man?”
I let out an uncomfortable laugh. “I’m going more for… compatibility.”
Dua Lipa blasted through the speakers, and the crowd let out an approving cheer.
Dina tugged on my hand as she shot to her feet. “Let’s go dance.”
Kian and Amir looked at us, amused.
“Make sure my bride is unharmed, Sophie,” Amir warned, though there was no heat behind it.
Kian chuckled. “I think it’s the other way around, and it should be me warning Dina.”
We rolled our eyes, grinning wildly, and made our way to the dance floor. Amir’s young cousins—he had so many of them—yelled at each other in Albanian and danced like it was a competitive sport.
Dina and I, on the other hand, moved with fearless confidence, both of us laughing as we watched their moves.
“They think they’re so cool,” Dina shouted over the music.
“They’ll learn one day,” I yelled back, laughing.
Or maybe we would, because in the next breath, they spun us around and we were copying their moves. Dina seemed to know the steps while every so often, I messed up and the cousins would clap hands and shout things I didn’t understand.
My hair was everywhere, my face hurt from smiling, and I didn’t care in the slightest. It was ridiculous. Loud. And perfect.
I didn’t know how long we’d been dancing when the music stopped.
A collective groan rose up, but before anyone could complain, the lights dimmed and a slower song slid in, low and smooth. At first, I thought it was an Albanian song, but then the lyrics came on.
It was Austin Giorgio’s “Angel Like You,” and a big smile spread over my lips.
“Let’s dance,” Amir’s cousin said, smiling eagerly. There was only one man I wanted to dance to this song with, but I didn’t want to be rude and reject him. He extended his hand and I hesitantly accepted just as another hand cut in sharply.
“Don’t. Touch. Her.”
I turned to find Kian’s eyes focused on me. Forgetting about the cousin, I stood in front of him. The energy shifted and my chest was glowing with emotions. Happiness. Appreciation. And something else.
He held out this hand. “How about a dance?”
“How did you… Nobody else will like the song.” But I was already taking it, stepping closer to him.
“I cleared it with the groom. We get this one song.” His other palm settled around my waist, pulling me even closer. “Although, fair warning, I won’t be having you melt for the singer, only for me.”
Surprised he remembered that off-handed comment, I rested my head against his chest and smiled, pleased.
He didn’t know how much that little gesture meant to me.
Jonathan had been an amazing man, but he’d been so wrapped up in the fallout with Jacqueline and it left him little time for me—or even his son.
“I can promise that,” I murmured as we swayed to the music. His thumb traced small circles on my lower back, sending a shiver straight through me.
“You’re only allowed to melt for one man.” I felt his hand gently tighten around my waist, pulling me closer as his mouth brushed against my earlobe. “Me.”
“I can live with that.”
His body felt good against mine, hard and warm. And he smelled good, like expensive scotch and his woodsy cologne.
The laughter, the shouting, and the clinking glasses no longer registered. All I could feel was his warm presence, steady and sure.
The song ended too soon, and it reverted back to an Albanian song. His hand in mine, we returned to our table, but an elderly gentleman intercepted us before we could sit down.
He wanted to discuss business with Kian. Deciding I didn’t need to sit in on that conversation, I excused myself to the ladies’ room and went outside in search of some quiet.
Once I stepped into the dark night, the music dulled to a distant pulse. I drew in a lungful of cool air, letting it scrape the smoke and heat from my chest, grateful for the space to breathe.
It didn’t last long, because Amir’s much younger cousins found me perched on the edge of a low stone wall in the courtyard, my heels kicked off and dangling from my fingers.
“Are you here to smoke too?” Luan asked. If I remembered right, he was the youngest one of them all. Only twenty years old.
“No, that shit will kill you,” I retorted.
They muttered something in Albanian and burst into laughter. I didn’t ask for a translation. It was probably a joke involving the mafia and an early grave.
Whatever.
If there was anything worth dying for, it was Kian’s stamina and the way he could bring me to the brink of orgasm with a single look.
Cigarettes and smoke though… A definite loss of luster.
I found myself surrounded by men—none of whom looked older than twenty-three, all of them with cigarettes pinched in their hands.
“So,” Luan said, drawing the word out, his broken English practiced, “is it really like in the movies?”
“Is what like the movies?” I reached down and dropped my shoes onto the grassy patch at my side.
“Do people whistle for cabs?”
“Sometimes. Or sometimes they do this.” I flicked my wrist like I was hailing a cab. “In the busy cities, you can stand on a corner at two in the morning and watch yellow cars line up just because you raised your hand.”
“Are they always yellow?” someone asked.
“Yellow cabs are,” I said, and they laughed again.
“Tell us more,” Luan’s brother, Berkin, demanded.
“Everything is… big?” Arben, another cousin, said, spreading his arms.
“Too big,” I corrected, bumping his elbow with my knee. “You order one thing and it feeds you for a week. You walk ten minutes and you’re still on the same street.”
They made impressed noises.
“Do you miss it?” Luan asked.
I looked down at my bare feet, my toes curling. Did I miss it? In the beginning, I did, but now… not so much. Although, I suspected it had everything to do with the man I came here with tonight.
Before I could answer, a shadow fell over us.
“Keni mbaruar?” Kian’s voice cut cleanly through the music. “Or should I come back later?”
The boys straightened like a teacher had stepped into the classroom.
I looked up and found Kian standing there with his jacket slung over one shoulder, dark hair streaked with silver at the temples.
“You’re going to have to repeat that in English for me, babe,” I said lightly, sliding my shoes back on. His eyes flicked over the group, then settled on me, unreadable.
“Are you done with the kids?” he gritted. Why was he mad? It was he who had to talk business; I’d only been giving him space.
“We were talking.”
“I can see that,” he said. His smile was thin. To the others, he added, “Your uncles are looking for you. The raki won’t drink itself.”
“Hey, that’s kind of—”
Kian leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
“You collecting admirers… babe?” he asked, repeating my nickname for him with a drawl.
I slid off the wall, then smoothed my dress. “Don’t be silly. They’re not exactly my type.” I shot them an apologetic look. “Sorry, boys.”
“Uh-huh.”
They muttered something to Kian, but he didn’t even look their way as they all drifted away, properly chastised.
But they didn’t go inside for some reason. Instead, they hovered by the door, their curious glances flickering our way almost as if they were waiting for something.