During one of our earliest fights, we were at Puglia and I had wanted her to leave. It was a whole ugly blowout both inside and outside of the restaurant, a moment I wanted to leave firmly in the past because she hadn’t deserved any bit of that. I had told her that I would buy her a restaurant if that was what it took to get her to leave Puglia like I was asking her to do.
It was only fair, a restaurant for a restaurant.
New York was a different city from Rome. Did the Italian food we ate back home even pass for Italian food here? The culture was different, the people were different, and life would be different—but I had a feeling that Sophia would be able to hack it.
It was a restaurant I had promised and it was a restaurant that she was getting. The international experience was going to be fantastic for her career. Her star had been blindingly bright in New York, and I was convinced because she was who she was and because she was my wife that she would bulldoze the competition and make them bow down. I knew what she had done for Puglia and it was only fair that she got to do the same with her own restaurant.
Even the original restaurant that we had fought about, Puglia, had passed into her possession, though it was through the sad situation that was her father’s passing. She became the owner, but she ended up bringing in family to manage it. Her mother was going to be her eyes and ears while we were far away starting a life together.
Of course, the timing was a little off.
We were expecting a baby, and we were about to get married again. I hadn’t wanted Sophia to work initially, but it was what she wanted to do. We were starting over. So many things were changing so why couldn’t that? After the baby was big enough, she could go back to work at a restaurant. Not just a restaurant but her own.
I liked to think of it as a sort of wedding present, either a belated one for the first wedding that we had had or one for the wedding that we were about to have. Planning had understandably been halted for a while following the difficulties that we had been through recently, but they were back up and running. The second wedding had been my suggestion, but it was another thing that I was going to let her take control of. It was supposed to be for us, but I wanted it to be for her.
Everyone knows the wedding day is really for the bride and all the rest of the people, including the groom just showed up. She deserved everything I could and couldn't give her. Whether she wanted to invite half of Manhattan or she wanted it to be just us, she was going to get it.
What we were looking for was somewhere to build the restaurant that would become Sophia’s. It would be a long road, getting architects and contractors, decorators and when it was ready, getting actual chefs and wait staff, but we had time. We weren’t in a hurry. We had a marriage to begin and a baby to have and raise in the meantime. We would be fine.
As far as New York went, it would still be a part of our lives yet. Say what you wanted about organized crime, but when you were at the very top of the command chain, the job was a versatile one. Sure it would be easier to work using New York as a base, but there were more important things we had to think about. My lieutenants were always a great team. They’d do just fine without me. New York was always just a phone call away. If my guys needed me, all they needed to do was ring. Sophia made the decision to break her father’s empire into pieces that she meted out among his men.
We were keeping the house, and we would move away to Rome after the baby had been born. After that, we would have a life across the sea, peaceful and safe. Perfect to raise our family. The house in New York was for when we decided we missed the friendly New York atmosphere. Our parents might want to see their grandchild sometimes—and this way they’d be able to.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sophia
Every little girl has had some sort of fantasy about her future wedding. All of them. If someone tells you they haven’t, then they’re lying.
I had had my wedding planned for years when I was little. Of course, I would be wearing a blinding white dress. It would be a ridiculous, flared ball gown, and the train would rival Princess Diana’s. I would wear a tiara in my hair, and we would have hundreds of guests. My father would walk me down the aisle and give me away to the man of my dreams, who would be my perfect Prince Charming in every way.
The fantasy changed a little the older that I got. I realized that the dream of having unlimited guests and the grandest of everything that money can buy was not a feasible dream because weddings cost money, and sometimes, you have to pay for them on your own. Another thing I realized was that getting married wasn’t the only thing I wanted to do. It wasn’t even that high on the list of things I wanted to do. I wanted to work and establish myself in my career. I wanted to live alone and enjoy my independence. I wanted maybe to even date and spend time with different people who potentially could teach me things and who I could have new experiences with.
My actual wedding had come as a rude shock and not one element of it was my own planning. Nothing. From the dress to the guest list, nothing was mine. The dress that had fit me like a glove and made me feel like absolute royalty was not selected by me though I had to wear it. Overall, it was a beautiful ceremony. However, because the pleasure of planning it had been taken from me, I was upset about it. That and the way that I felt about Marcelo in the beginning. Marcelo wasn’t someone I had picked, and I was being forced to leave a job I loved and was good at in order to be married to him. It was really insulting actually, the more I think back to it. Quite frankly, the arrangement was terrible and I had hated all of it.
The second time round was going to be different.
The truth was, we didn’t need all of it. We didn’t need any of it. All we needed was each other—and that was it.
Neither of us had ever been to St. Patrick’s Cathedral on Madison Avenue, but they asked the least questions concerning the type of ceremony that we were looking for. Our last one had been simple, but this was going to be even more so. Nothing over the top. Just two crazy kids who loved each other and wanted to get married.
There were no guests. Not even our parents. This time, it wasn’t about them. It was about us, as we were the only people who needed to be there. We had flowers, but only white roses lining the pews. That was all there was as far as decorations, and for a car, we were just going to use Marcelo’s to get back home when we were done. We spent the night before the wedding together, but in the morning, he left before me so he would wait for me at the church. Elena came over and helped me into my gown. She was going to be my ride to the church.
“I can't believe this is the second time that you’re getting married and you aren’t inviting me for this one either,” she grumbled. She was upset, but she wasn’t that upset. There was a smile on her face, and I could tell that she was happy for me more than anything else. Due to the nature of the first wedding, the planning was completely in the hands of our parents, chiefly Marcelo’s mother who didn’t know any of my friends, so Elena was left off the list. It was a blow at the time because I would have appreciated the support, but then again, she was in total opposition to the marriage the first time around and might have caused a scene at the wedding.
I sort of wanted her to be in attendance at this one, but that wasn’t part of the deal. The whole point of getting married again was to do it for ourselves. Legally, we were already married, so we weren’t going to go through all the paperwork again, but what we had lacked was the symbolic joining of two people who actually loved each other and wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. The vows hadn’t been true before, and we wanted a chance to say them to each other in a way that was honest and that both of us meant.
“I’m sorry, Elena. Neither of us are having guests, that was the deal,” I said to her. “The last time we didn’t get to plan anything… we just want this one to be for us, you know?”
“I know,” she said, exaggerating an eye roll. “Still, it would have been nice to be part of your bridal party,” she said.
“Isn’
t it enough that you are the only person we have even told about this?” I asked her.
Getting married in secret wasn’t as hard as we had both anticipated. Once Marcelo had stepped back from the business, we had a lot of free time on our hands to plan our future lives. Fortunately, or unfortunately, we couldn’t completely cut ourselves off from the city, but moving between two homes was not something that limited us. I—at the very least—wanted our baby to be born in the city, even if we didn’t live there all the time.
“I suppose I feel a little special,” she said, smiling. “Where are you honeymooning?” she asked.
“Santorini for one week before another in Tuscany,” I said. Santorini was for me because fuck if my pregnancy was going to stop me from wearing a bikini, and Tuscany was for him because he wanted to have the wine. I, of course, could not, but that was okay. What was marriage about if not compromise? Once the baby was born and I was done breastfeeding, I could drink like a fish again.
“God, you’re so lucky. He spoils you rotten,” Elena said. “Don’t forget about us here, slumming it in New York City.”
“Elena, you know we are going to be coming back from time to time,” I said lightly. She was helping me ease into my wedding gown. It was very difficult to make maternity wedding gowns because babies grew and pregnant women gained weight. Our best bet was an empire waist design where my belly wouldn’t be an issue and it would be comfortable. We were in our fifth month and everything was right on track. The baby—I knew the sex, Marcelo did not—was a boy, and we had nothing to worry about. Everything was fine, and we were right on track for delivery in December or late November.
“How often is time to time?” she asked me.
“You won’t even notice I’ve been gone,” I said to her. She zipped me into the dress, and I sat on the bed to get my shoes on. Flats, of course. I was pregnant. I wasn’t going to squeeze my swollen ankles into Louboutins for anyone, not even Marcelo on our second wedding. My hair was down, and I was doing my own makeup. When we were done, she drove us to the cathedral where Marcelo was waiting with the priest who would marry us.
My father had walked me down the aisle the first time that Marcelo and I had gotten married, so I tried to find solace in that. Neither of us would even have our parents there, but walking down the aisle alone, it hurt a little knowing that even if I had wanted him to walk me down the aisle it was not an option. Marcelo and I would have to have a talk about naming the baby after him.
He looked amazing at the end of the aisle, waiting for me. I had told him to dress casually. We were getting married, but it was just us, he didn’t need to impress me. He had on slacks and a dark shirt, no tie. He smiled at me as I walked down the aisle. The organist had so kindly agreed to come and play at the wedding even though it was literally just us. My bouquet was a bunch of white roses, the first kind of flower that he had ever gotten for me. He took my hand as I approached him.
There were no ‘dearly beloved’ gathered to celebrate our union. There were no people called to object if they thought we shouldn’t be married. There was no audience of eager, upset, or tearful faces, looking on as we committed our lives to each other. All we wanted was to be able to say our vows to each other, the vows we meant to one another, that would matter when nobody else was around.
He went first. I watched him take both my hands in his two hands. I was confused for a second, expecting that he would have something written down and that he would pull it out then to read it.
“Sophia,” he started, “the first time that I met you, you took my breath away. I couldn’t wait to be able to call you my wife. When you walked down the aisle you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. I saw the sadness in your eyes as you said I do and it was at that moment that I should have sworn to never be the reason that you had tears in your eyes again. You deserve the world Sophie, and I swear that I am going to be the one who gives it to you. I love you and I want to show you that I do every single day,” he said.
I had cried at the first wedding, and I was crying now, but for a very different reason. I had written my own vows and was going to pull them out and read them when it was my turn, but I didn’t know if I could measure up to the sincerity I had heard in Marcelo’s earnest, short speech. I swallowed and decided to just say what I meant.
“I didn’t know that there were men like you until we were together. Your heart is so generous and you love with all you have. I have known some of the best moments of my life at your side, and I know that there, beside you, is a place that I can be sure that I will be safe and that you will be there for me. If I didn’t have anything, I would still want you because you sustain me and give me so much. So much more than I deserve or have any right to ask of you. You are the man that I love, and I can’t wait to give birth to your son, Marcelo. If he’s even half the man that you are, it would be more than enough.”
His eyebrows raised a little when I said “son.” I had ruined the surprise, but he didn’t seem mad. He wasn’t crying, but the look on his face was priceless. We kissed, and in that moment, it was only us. For the first time since we had met, our relationship felt like something that we owned and was ours to enjoy. The past several months had been a total rollercoaster. It was sometimes horrible and painful and sometimes I had felt the height of happiness and elation. The beginning of our life hadn’t been fair to us, but without it, we wouldn’t have been able to get to this point, truly pledging ourselves to each other in the most honest way that we knew how. We weren’t trying to erase it. We didn’t need a new start. We just needed to be able to own it.
And it was perfect…our tiny, informal wedding, before zero witnesses—besides the priest and the baby in my belly. Our baby. That night we would be flying out on our honeymoon, and I couldn’t wait. Finally, we would get the beginning that we deserved.
THE END
BONUS BOOK – BURNED
CHAPTER ONE
Rafael Neal did a lot of dumb things when his need for reckless adventure and adrenaline rushes craved something bigger and better than the last blast, but even he couldn’t believe what he was doing. As the vice president of the Mountain Tribesmen Motorcycle Club, he knew what could happen if he was found lounging at the party of Headless Reapers Motorcycle Club, and he liked his head sitting right on top of his shoulders. However, it was the First Annual Night of Riley, and this is where he wanted to be.
The yearly party the HRMC put on for their fallen brother was something he’d never planned to attend, but since he heard it was going to get pretty crazy he’d shown up to see for himself. When his mood and need for increased adrenaline happened to fall on the day of the grand party, he knew there was only one place that would do. Live free, play hard, and enjoy life—that was his motto. He never knew when he was going to be riding on that eternal freeway, so he liked to live for today. He could feel the pump of his blood and his hyper-awareness increase the closer he got to the house.
No one paid him any mind as he entered and then circled the party. He was good at hiding in plain sight—and for that, he was glad. There was a lot of muscle in the room, and he was totally in the wrong. If someone questioned him or made him, there would definitely be trouble…and not the good kind. That evening his friends asked him to join them in a lot of different activities; but, once he got something in his mind, it was hard to shake it, and he’d had this party in his mind since he’d gotten out of bed this morning. There would be food, women, and drinks, and he could see what the Headless Reapers were up to these days.
He had just been looking to do something fun, well, something fun and a bit dangerous. Danger always made the fun just a bit sweeter, and he could not deny his craving for an adrenaline rush. As the second-in-command for the MTMC, there was a lot of work and responsibility. There were times he just wanted to kick back or raise a little hell. So what was this? A bit of both. At this event, celebrating “Mask-Face” Riley, everyone would wear masks…for a while, at least. It was the only re
ason he could walk into a rival club event and not leave in a body bag…or worse.
Looking at all the men in their best masks, he could tell who the people were just based on how they acted. Most had masks like Michael Myers or The Scream while Rafael had a mask that was tighter and featured a cool, white, ceramic-looking face. The club space was large, and there was plenty of seating, food, and drinks for the crowd that seemed to be growing larger before his eyes.
He noticed it was a nice set up they had—with a boxing ring in one corner, a spot for playing cards, another for playing pool, and a very large bar. This group had done very well for itself. It had nothing on his club though. Rafael’s club had all of this plus the hottest chicks. With the exclusion of the sexy, redhead who kept walking past him. His club didn’t have one of her. She was hot as fuck. He had noticed her around, and she had watched him whenever she saw him out on the street, but it wasn’t that she could have known it was him. He had a mask on like every other dude at the event.
She didn’t have on a mask, but neither did any of the club girls. Not that he’d minded looking at the women—without masks was good for him. He returned his attention to the redhead who seemed to be walking around aimlessly, and he wanted to change that. He would give her something to do…him preferably. He watched her circle the room talking to this person or that, but she kept her attention on him. He could feel her hot glances from across the room.
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