MIA
The wedding venue was a gorgeous farm in upstate New York. The Ferraros and the Messeros had descended onto its snowy grounds in the first week of December, arriving in a motorcade of bulletproof black SUVs, lush burgundy rose wreaths pinned to the trunks.
Those same roses filled every corner of the reception hall, the farmhouse bridal suite, and lined the aisle of the chapel where the ceremony would take place. They were beautiful—burgundy was Fabi’s favorite color.
But in a certain light, that color reminded me of blood.
I snipped through the thread I was using to hem Elena’s dress and let the fabric fall to the floor. “How’s that?”
Fabi’s sister slid her heels back on and walked up to the mirror. “Perfect now. Thanks, Mia.”
Elena had returned to New York two nights ago and was planning to leave tomorrow evening. It seemed to me that every time she looked at Fabi, she couldn’t help but wonder how long she had left before she was also ordered to return. Elena didn’t want to leave Switzerland, and something told me she wouldn’t be nearly as amenable as Fabi when the time came.
“Anyone else?” I asked, glancing around at the bridesmaids. Fabi had asked me to style the girls after I’d been officially invited to the wedding, and I jumped on it despite only having a few weeks to find the dresses. It meant a lot to be a part of her big day.
“Stop fussing over us,” Zo said. “Sit down and have a drink.”
Everyone had a glass of champagne in hand, each of them trying a little too hard to keep the mood light. The air was tinged with tension, and it was starting to show.
It hurt, watching Fabi power through it. She deserved joy. Pure, unfiltered joy. Not this tightly wound version of a celebration.
She drifted toward the window, her wedding gown shimmering in the afternoon light. She looked like a princess in that dress, and I didn’t know how Cosimo could look at her and not feel something.
“It’s snowing,” she said quietly.
I moved to stand beside her. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m going to get some air.”
“I’ll come with you,” Nina offered, already rising.
Fabi shook her head. “I just want a few minutes alone.” She reached for the fur shawl she’d wear during the ceremony—the chapel didn’t have heating, so we were all bundling up—and slipped out of the room.
The second the door clicked shut, we all looked at one another.
“Is it just me,” Zo asked, “or does she seem… off?”
“She is off,” Elena said, her jaw tightening. “But she’s not letting anyone in.”
“Something changed,” Nina murmured. “Since Gino Ferraro’s funeral. She’s quieter. Sadder.”
“I noticed it too,” I said, remembering that day vividly. I’d gone to the funeral with Romolo, and Fabi had stood beside Cosimo for most of the day. I saw them talk and, naively, thought it was a good sign.
But ever since, something in her had shifted. Whenever I asked about it, Fabi brushed me off.
I gave it a few more minutes before pushing to my feet. “I’m going to check on her.”
The farmhouse had an old-world charm that made you feel like stepping back in time—exposed stone walls, deep windowsills, and lanterns made of wrought iron and glass.
I followed the hallway past antique portraits and vintage rugs, toward the wide balcony where Fabi’s silhouette appeared beyond the glass doors.
When I saw she wasn’t alone, I halted.
Cosimo stood beside her.
There was at least a foot between them but it looked like they were talking. Didn’t anyone tell him it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?
I stood there for a moment, trying to decide if I should go back, when I felt a soft touch on my lower back. “Hey, you,” came Romolo’s voice.
I turned. “Hey.”
Gray eyes. Ink-black hair. A smile that was reserved just for me. The sight of him melted something in me. He had a way of making everything feel solid. Steady. Safe. His presence was a grounding force I’d desperately needed over the last month.
A month ago, he pulled me out of that apartment and into the wreckage of a life I didn’t recognize. Everything had fallen apart.
But with him by my side, rebuilding hadn’t been as hard as I’d thought.
One month.
It had been one month of living with him. Sharing his space. Learning his routines. Marveling at how seamlessly we fit into each other’s lives.
My business had exploded—in the best way. The Golden Circle referrals were still pouring into my inbox, weeks after I’d been sent out to the list. I’d onboarded ten new clients over the last week—the kind of clients I never would have thought I’d be capable of having.
And my father… Well. He was now under a federal investigation for fraud and collusion. After his spectacular plummet in the polls, the election had gone to the incumbent, Mayor Wilson.
Every time a story about Dad came on the news, Romolo would silently appear beside me, offering comfort and support.
I kept reminding him I was okay. I was done playing savior for those who didn’t deserve it. My father had made his own choices. His own bed. And now he could lie in it.
Romolo studied me now, his gaze warm and steady. “What are you doing out here, Berry?”
I nodded toward the balcony. “I came to check on Fabi. She’s out there with him.”
His brows lifted slightly. “Cos?”
“Yeah.”
We both stared through the glass for a moment, watching them. Two people caught in something complicated.
“What do you think the odds are they’ll come back in and tell us to cancel the wedding?” I asked, half-joking.
Romolo shook his head. “Zero. Cosimo’s not backing out. Not now.”
“I hope they’re not signing themselves up for a lifetime of misery.” I wasn’t so concerned anymore about Cosimo being the kind of guy who would physically hurt Fabi, but that wasn’t the only way you could hurt someone. And Fabi had a gentle heart.
“She’ll be fine,” Rom said, his lips brushing against my ear. “Give it a few months and she might have him eating out of the palm of her hand. Happened to me, didn’t it?”
I laughed. “Is that how you’d describe it?”
“More or less.” He laced his fingers through mine. “Come on. Let’s give them some privacy. I want to show you something.”
His hand was warm and steady in mine as he led me down the hall and up a narrow staircase tucked just behind the main corridor.
Behind a small door was the attic. I expected a tiny room with creaky floorboards and dusty boxes, but it turned out I was completely wrong.
The attic had been converted into a small sewing workshop. Sunlight streamed in through a round window, spilling across vintage mannequins, bolts of fabric, and a wooden worktable covered in spools of thread. A dress form stood in the center, half-draped in a gown made of creamy, thick linen.
My mouth parted in awe. “Rom… this is incredible.”
Romolo’s arm curved around my waist. “The owner said it used to belong to his grandmother. Now his daughter uses it to design period pieces. I thought you’d enjoy seeing it.”
I turned slowly, soaking it all in. “This place is magic. Being here is giving me some interesting styling inspo.”
“Me too,” he said, his voice low. “You’d look brilliant in white.”
My cheeks heated. “Rom.”
“Too fast?”
“We’ve only lived together for a month.”
“When you know you know,” he simply said, making my stomach flutter. “And trust me, Berry. I fucking know.”
His hands slid to my waist as he brought our bodies together. I rose onto my toes to kiss him, and he met me halfway, his lips slanting over mine with a hunger that sent a shiver down my spine.
He pressed me gently against the wall with his solid, strong body, our mouths never parting. One of his hands slid beneath my dress, fingers grazing my thigh with teasing slowness.
I melted into his touch. Into his scent. Into the way he made me feel like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
His hard length pressed insistently against my belly.
“I want you,” he rasped.
“The ceremony’s about to start,” I said, barely able to get the words out as his lips dragged along my neck.
“We’ve got time,” he muttered, fingers slipping beneath my panties, finding me already wet. “And I’m going to love the way you’ll blush, standing there in front of everyone.”
I shivered as he teased my entrance. “Why would I blush?”
His voice dropped to a rough whisper. “Because every time you move, you’ll feel my cum dripping down your thighs.”
His fingers curled inside me, coaxing a soft cry from my lips. I clenched around him, dizzy with need. Suddenly, every reckless thing he was saying sounded like the best idea I’d ever heard.
I reached between us, undid his trousers, and curved my palm around his cock.
His forehead dropped to mine as I pumped him slowly. “Fuck. That’s it.”
We worked each other into a frenzy until we were both right on the edge. And then he was lifting me with a firm grip on my ass, while I scrambled to tug my dress out of the way.
He sank into me with a hiss and a shiver. “Jesus, Mia.”
My legs tightened around him and his hips began to move, dragging pleasure through me with every thrust. I clung to his shoulders, held together only by his grip and the rhythm of our bodies.
“Good?” he breathed, voice tight.
“So good,” I gasped, thighs trembling.
His hand cupped the back of my head to keep me steady as he drove into me harder, deeper.
“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, his mouth hovering over mine. “I’m close.”
“Me too,” I whimpered, heat coiling low in my belly, my nails digging into his back.
One more thrust. Then another.
And then we shattered—together.
I buried my face in his neck, muffling my moan, while his arms held me through it, his body pulsing inside mine.
For a few long seconds, we just stood there. Breathless, tangled, sated.
Eventually, his lips brushed over my temple. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”
My heart swelled. I tilted my head up to meet his gaze, smiling as I cupped his cheek. “I love you too, Rom.” I bit my lip. “And on second thought… I think I like fast.”
