Page 223 of The One
“Signor De Marco,” Father Josef greets, then nods at my bride. “Mariella.”
A small, knowing smile tugs at his lips. “A happy occasion. Though rather sudden?”
“Not at all,” I say, turning to Mari with a smile. “It’s been a long time coming.”
She bites her lip, her cheeks flushing the softest pink, a color I haven’t seen on her nearly enough lately. I missed it.
“Ready then?” Father Josef asks.
“Never more so.” I look only at Mari.
But she hesitates.
“Actually…” Her voice is quiet, uncertain.
I frown. “What is it?”
She leans in, her breath warm against my skin.
“I always dreamed of walking down the aisle… toyou.”
The blush deepens as she confesses it. My heart stutters before racing ahead. My smile widens.
“I want to make all your dreams come true,dolcezza,” I murmur. “And this one is easy.” I press a kiss to her temple. “Go, then.”
Her eyes shimmer with glee as she turns and hurries down the aisle toward the large wooden doors. Just before reaching them, she slips into a small alcove.
Father Josef’s brow furrows. “Umm.”
I ignore him and motion to Father Alessandro to join us and order the organist to play.
A heartbeat later, the rich chords of the organ swell through the church.
The music vibrates through my chest, and I close my eyes for a moment. The steady rhythm calms the excitement buzzing under my skin, but I’m still impatient.
My fingers twitch at my sides, itching to have Mari’s hand back in mine, eager to slip the ring on her finger, one that declares to the entire world who she belongs to.
And then, without warning, unease is settling in.
Not about marrying Mari, nothing could shake my belief in her or in us, but about everything else.
I’ve never been one to worry. I never had to. That was Tiero’s burden.
Now, though, with me in charge, the pressure hits.
What if someone leaks out it was Mariella’s father who shot Tiero and who’s been undermining us for years?
What if they learn I hid the truth and spared his family’s life? My wife’s life?
There could be mutiny. Everyone would see me as weak.
I want to usher in a new era, but our culture clings to tradition. It will take time and persistence. Do I have that?
I adjust my tie, and Father Josef smiles. He probably thinks I’m nervous waiting for my bride.
I tune him out and focus on the end of the aisle, where Mari will appear any moment.
What’s taking her so long? She’s not having second thoughts, is she?
