I’m right. Every pair of eyes turns to stare as I walk Sloane up the aisle toward our seats at the front. Elio is waiting at the back of the church with his nonna and the rest of the bridal party. Isa isn’t here yet, but according to her mother, she’s en route with her father. I nod at my consigliere and underboss as we pass by them. Both are here with their wives to show respect to one of the DiPietro capos.
I only promoted Rafaelo a few months before Elio was born, at my father’s request. Papa said it was the right thing to do, even though he doesn’t much like the Da Rosa patriarch. Isa’s father was one of our longest-serving senior soldato at the time, so it was probably the right call. He should be retiring in a few years, and hopefully leaving it to his sons to follow in his footsteps.
“Everyone is staring,” Sloane whispers, clinging more tightly to my arm.
“It’s hard not to. You look incredible today, Sloane.”
“Thank you.” She smiles at me, and the expression is similar to one of the photos where we’re gazing at one another like we only exist for each other. I couldn’t stop sneaking looks at it on the car ride here. A lot of Elio’s photos are blurry or cropped, but he took a couple of incredible pics. I should probably delete them, but I know I won’t.
“This is us,” I say, stopping at the third pew where my parents are already seated. I make quick introductions. “This is my papa, Josef, and my mama, Beatrice. This is Sloane.”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” my mother says, nudging my father to move down and make room. “Elio didn’t stop talking about you yesterday. You have made quite the impression on my little nipote.”
“The feeling is completely mutual.” Sloane slides onto the bench beside my mother. “He already has me wrapped around his little finger.”
“I’ll be right back,” I say, trusting Sloane with my parents. I should probably take her with me to greet the groom and his groomsmen, but I promised to protect her today, and I intend to keep my word. The last thing she needs is a bunch of older men perving on her.
Nodding at my parents, I stride to the front row and thrust out my hand, shaking the much older groom’s hand. “Congratulations, Carmine. I hope you and Isotta will be very happy together.” His hair has more gray than the last time I saw him, and his black jacket is straining to contain his considerable girth. Frustration wells inside me. What father would force his daughter to marry a man so much older than her? I hate this still happens in our world. You will never convince me it’s not wrong. I understand when it happens to forge alliances, but in a scenario like this, it doesn’t make sense.
“Thank you, Don DiPietro. You honor us by being here today. Your mama and papa too.”
I shake hands with his groomsmen, all men from our famiglia.
“Is that the new nanny?” Carmine asks, blatantly staring at Sloane as she chats with my parents.
My spine stiffens as I narrow my eyes on him. “Yes. What of it?”
“Maybe I should’ve held out for the replacement.” He laughs at his own joke, and a couple of his groomsmen join him. His tone might sound teasing, but the way he’s undressing Sloane with his eyes is anything but trivial.
“Watch your mouth, and quit eye fucking her,” I say through gritted teeth. “Remember your place. You’re in a church about to marry your best friend’s youngest daughter. Show some respect,” I hiss, close to throttling the bastard.
“Apologies, capocrimine. I did not mean any offense. It’s just my nerves getting at me.” He dabs his sweaty brow with a monogrammed handkerchief, and I work hard to hide my disgust. There’s a reason this man never advanced beyond the soldato ranks, and right now, I’m glad for it.
A commotion at the back of the church is a welcome interruption. “I believe the bride has arrived. Congratulations again,” I say before spinning around and walking toward my seat, my jaw clenching the entire time.
“Is everything all right?” Sloane whispers when I slide onto the bench beside her.
“It’s fine.” My facial muscles relax the instant I look at her stunning face.
She leans in closer, placing her mouth close to my ear. “This might be bad of me to say, but I cannot believe Isotta is marrying him.”
I smother my laughter, but my lips twitch as I turn my head toward her and whisper in her ear, “That makes two of us.”
“Why?” she asks, as the “Wedding March” starts.
“It’s complicated,” I whisper back as we join the congregation in standing. Thankfully, she can’t ask me any more questions I’d struggle to answer because the ceremony is underway.
The flower girls lead the procession, scattering petals on the ground as they walk toward the altar. Elio looks proud as punch as he follows them, holding the ring cushion and swaggering up the aisle. The guests all ooh and aah at the children, and they’re lapping it up like mini celebrities.
“He has so much confidence,” Sloane says, leaning around me to snap a picture. I take a few myself before turning my cell off and slipping it into my pocket.
“Look, Daddy!” Elio shouts when he reaches us, earning a few chuckles. “I’m carrying the rings.”
“You’re doing a great job, son.” Warmth blossoms in my chest as I watch him stride confidently to the altar and hand the cushion off. Then he runs back and slides in beside me. “Well done. You make me proud,” I say, hugging him against my side.
“Grandma.” Elio leans across me. “Did you see me?”
“I did, nipote. You were the best ring bearer I’ve ever seen.”
“I wanna sit beside Grandma and Sloane,” he says, pushing past me without delay.
I turn to watch Isa coming up the aisle with her father. Rafaelo walks proudly with his daughter on his arm. The Da Rosa patriarch stops to acknowledge me and my parents, and I wonder what Sloane is making of all this. Perhaps I should’ve said something to prepare her for today. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold much back after the wedding, and maybe it’s time I told her the truth.
Although Isa is hidden behind a traditional lace veil, I sense the daggers she points in Sloane’s direction, and I feel a sliver of guilt for not taking her feelings into account. But what’s done is done, and she should have realized I’d be bringing my new nanny as my plus-one.
Rafaelo moves on, handing his daughter to Carmine before taking his seat beside his wife.
The ceremony is long, and trying to keep Elio seated and quiet is an effort. When I take him outside to use the bathroom, I let him run around for a few minutes to expend some energy before we return.
Finally, the union is sealed, and the ceremony ends. We trail out after the wedding party, the other guests holding back out of respect for my family. Shit. I can’t keep Sloane away from Isa for this part, and it’s bound to be awkward. However, it’d be worse if she didn’t line up beside me to pay her respects to the happy couple, so she’ll have to suck it up and fake it.
“Crap,” Sloane mutters under her breath as we approach the church doors, spotting the bridesmaids and groomsmen moving in a line, offering their congratulations to the married couple.
“It’ll be fine,” I say, tucking her arm in mine. “Just wish them well, and we’ll move on.”
I let my parents go ahead of us, squeezing Sloane’s arm in reassurance as we inch up. Isa’s eyes are like laser beams watching us, and her eyes spit fire when she looks at Sloane. Her gaze drags up and down her body with obvious envy. Maybe I should feel guilty for bringing her with me and buying her such an exquisite gown, but I honestly can’t find it in me to care. Isa made an enemy out of Sloane when it didn’t have to be this way.
“Congratulations, Isa.” I lean in to kiss her cheek as Elio barrels past me, running after my parents.
“Hi, Auntie Isa,” he sings as he dashes past. “Bye, Auntie Isa.”
Warmth softens her stern face as she smiles after Elio. There is no doubting how much she loves her nephew.
“You look lovely,” I say, “I hope you’ll be very happy.”
Before I can pull back, Isa grabs me, making a meal out of kissing both my cheeks. “Thank you for coming, Cris, and thanks so much for your very generous wedding gift. It was truly too much.”
I upgraded their honeymoon flights to first class and I purchased a crystal wine decanter and matching glasses set from their wedding list.
“It was indeed most generous,” Carmine agrees, pulling his much younger wife into his side.
“Congratulations, Isotta,” Sloane politely says. “You look stunning.”
“Thank you,” Isa says in a clipped tone, and I can tell it killed her to offer that insincere thanks.
“We haven’t met.” Carmine grabs Sloane’s arm, yanking her toward him.
I haul her back to my side, pinning him with a warning look. He is not putting his grabby hands anywhere near her. “This is Sloane. Sloane, this is Carmine.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” she says, clinging a little harder to me. “Congratulations on your marriage.”
“Thank you for coming.” His eyes briefly land on her chest, and I don’t like it. I already warned him inside, and this is the height of disrespect to Sloane, his wife, and to me. “Perhaps you’ll honor me with a dance later.”
Over my dead fucking body. Before I have a chance to put him in his place again, his bride does it for me.
“Perhaps she won’t,” Isa snaps, glaring at her husband.
“We’ll leave you to your guests,” I clip out. I’m seething, and I need to get Sloane out of here before I murder the groom in front of her.
Sloane visibly relaxes against me as I guide her away from the happy couple, heading in my parents’ direction.
“Cris?” Sloane inquires under her breath when we’re far enough away. “I didn’t realize it was that friendly between you two.”
Jealousy is obvious in her tone. It should please me, but I’m trying hard to keep things professional and uncomplicated between us, and the lines are only blurring further. “It’s not. I hate when she calls me that.”
“Then it’s disrespectful of her to keep using it.”
“I know.” I’ve been more lenient with Isa than I probably should’ve been.
“She really hates me,” Sloane says over a sigh. “I feel bad that I came. As much as I don’t like her, it’s not fair. This is her wedding day. I should go home.”
“Absolutely not.” I turn to face her, stalling our forward trajectory. “I will smooth things over when we get to the hotel. You’re here as my guest, and that’s final.”
We join my parents, chatting with them as I keep an eye on where Elio is running around playing chase with his cousins. We move on to the church grounds for the photos after most of the guests have departed for the wedding reception. Sloane helps my mother to wrangle Elio into position for the various photos while I stand off to one side with my father.
“Sloane is a fine young woman, and she seems to have a good head on her shoulders,” my father says.
“She’s mature for her age and really good with Elio.”
“What about you?” my father asks with a glint in his eye.
“What about me?” I play dumb on purpose.
“Come now, Cristian. Don’t try to fool an old fool. She’s a very beautiful young woman. Smart, kind, and good with your son. Surely, you know what I’m suggesting.”
“She’s twenty-one, Pops.”
“And?” He stares at me like I’m making no sense.
“And most twenty-one-year-olds don’t want to be saddled with a husband and son. They want to party and enjoy life before settling down.”
“It’s ridiculous,” he scoffs. “My mother married my father at eighteen, and they’d been courting since she was fourteen. I don’t know why all the young people make such a fuss these days. Why waste life partying or pursuing careers when you can be a wife and mother?”
“Come on, old man, don’t pretend like you’re that much of a traditionalist. You were one of the ones who championed for women to have greater rights and freedoms in our world.” He also supported Catarina Conti when she first showed up in New York, but I don’t mention that because it was Cruz who initially asked my father to give her his backing. Mentioning my brother will only send my father wallowing in a pit of despair and depression. He blames himself for the shame Cruz brought on our family, and nothing any of us says will ever change his mind.
“And I stand over it. Women should have choices, but it doesn’t mean my personal views have changed. I don’t see anything wrong with wanting to marry young and start a family early.”
“This is a pointless conversation.” I smile as Sloane bends down to sweet-talk Elio into one more picture. I don’t know what she’s saying, but it’s working. He stops fidgeting with his collar and moves back in front of Isa. “Sloane is my nanny, period. Quit with the matchmaking. I’m getting enough of that shit from my friends.”
“It’s past time you took a wife, Cristian.”
“Please don’t start this again.”
“I know you don’t want to consider an arrangement, but maybe it’s the best option for you and Elio. You’re not getting any younger, and Elio needs a mother.”
“Elio is doing fine, Pops. He’s not wanting for anything, including maternal love. He is doted on by his grandmothers and his aunts, and Sloane adores him.”
“I don’t want to argue with you. I’m just saying you should consider all options.” He squeezes my shoulder and stares earnestly into my eyes. “You’re doing a fine job with Elio, Cristian. Your mother and I are so proud of the man you’ve become. You’re an amazing father, as we knew you would be. We only want you to be happy and to have love in your life. You deserve that.” His gaze bounces to my mother as she talks with Sloane. “My father chose Beatrice for me, and there isn’t a day that I’ve regretted it. I love your mother more than my life, son. Do not close yourself to it.”
My anger fades as fast as it came on. “You got lucky, Pops.” My parents have a great marriage, and it’s the benchmark I’ve set for myself.
“You could be lucky too.” Papa smiles affectionately at Sloane as he slaps me on the back. “Don’t rule anything out. Fate has a funny way of working.”
