by Bethany-Kris
Huh.
“But,” Zeke said, “you can still ask. Because I’m enjoying this.”
Of course, he was.
“Would you allow me to take Roz to Cece’s wedding, Zeke?”
“You’re a little late in asking me to take her out, aren’t you?”
Naz scratched at the bit of facial hair growing on his jaw. Soon, his father was going to bark at him to shave it because made men couldn’t have facial hair, and he wasn’t a special fucking snowflake just because he wasn’t made yet. So was his life.
“So, maybe I did this a little bit backward.”
Zeke chuckled dryly. “A little?”
“Give me something.”
“Never, principe. Nothing is coming easy to you.”
“Yeah, make me work for it.”
“Exactly that,” Zeke countered.
“I shouldn’t have been a shit, then. Came to you first, and talked. Whatever.”
Zeke waved a hand. “Eh, I don’t give a shit, really.”
Naz’s head snapped up, and he found Zeke was grinning in that way of his. Like he was greatly enjoying this moment and nothing more.
“You’re just like your father, Nazio. You realize that, don’t you?”
Naz tugged on the beanie on his head. “Maybe too much, yeah.”
Zeke laughed. “Nah, just enough, Naz. Just fucking enough.”
TWENTY-THREE
“Okay, let’s bring down a few wisps of hair, a bit more hairspray, and I think we’re done,” the stylist said as she moved around Roz to grab a fine-tooth comb. “You were right—up was better than down.”
Roz simply smiled at the woman, but inside, she was thinking duh. She knew what looks worked best with her. She’d been doing her own hair for concerts all these years. Up was always better. Especially when someone was going to be moving a lot. Like tonight.
A wedding meant dancing.
“Oh, good, you’re almost done. We’re running late this morning.”
Roz found her mother in the bathroom doorway. The stylist Katya had hired to come in and do all the ladies’ hair and makeup was part of the reason they were late. She seemed to want to argue with both Katya and Roz about what they wanted done for their looks instead of just doing what they asked. It was kind of annoying because had she just done her own hair and makeup like she wanted, then they would have been done already and dressed. But no, her mother wanted this day to be no stress.
So much for that.
She suspected her mother wouldn’t hire the woman again.
“Just about, yep,” the woman chirped.
Katya gave Roz a smile. “Great—come find me after. I have your dress laid out.”
“Is Naz here yet?”
“Not yet.”
Damn.
Roz’s fingers itched to find her phone, and shoot off a text to Naz just to find out where he was. It was hard to say if he would even answer, though. It was his sister’s wedding, after all. He was one of the groomsmen, so she suspected he had a whole host of things to take care of before she was even going to see him. Pictures, and the whole works.
“So,” the stylist drawled after Katya left,” I hear you’re going to be some big pianist in Australia, huh?”
Roz glanced up at the woman.
Big pianist was a little offensive. She’d nailed an audition against fifteen other pianists that came from all around the world to compete for one single spot in a well-known, world-class company. She’d worked her whole life for a single moment in time that was over before she’d even realized it, and now her whole life was about to change again.
In good ways, sure, but still.
It was a change.
Roz simply settled on saying, “Yeah, I guess so.”
Thankfully, the stylist didn’t bother to make much more chitchat after that. Roz was grateful. She had way too many other things on her mind. About today, and beyond. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what was making her so damned nervous at the moment, but it was there and it wouldn’t let up.
Australia was just one of those things.
One of many things.
Roz just wanted to focus on today. She was going to do that, no matter what. She figured it would be a lot easier to do once Naz was at her side.
But until then … she was just going to have to deal with those butterflies in her stomach. Even if she didn’t know why she was feeling them to begin with.
“Perfect,” her mother murmured, appraising the dress Roz wore once all the many little buttons had been done up on the back. Despite the fact she wasn’t actually in the wedding, her soft peach gown with a delicate chiffon skirt and an off-the-shoulder top matched the color scheme of the wedding. “You and Naz will match then, hmm?”
Roz smoothed her hands down the front of the dress. “I haven’t seen him yet. I haven’t bothered to send him a message either. He’s probably busy. I’ll see him later once we’re at the church, and everything.”
Katya smiled, but said nothing about Naz. Instead, she said, “Today is a big day for you, yes?”
“Why would you think that?”
“Why wouldn’t I, Roz?”
She gave her mother a look in the mirror, but Katya was too busy clasping a necklace around Roz’s throat. A chunky piece that made a statement, and glittered under the lights. All things she loved about jewelry, really.
“You’re saying that you aren’t even a little bit nervous about today?”
Roz pressed her lips together to keep from grinning. Maybe her mother knew her a little too well for her own good. “And if I was?”
“Maybe talking about it will help.”
“It’s not even my wedding.”
“No, but it is an important wedding for people like us. And you know what I mean about that. Men like your father, and Naz’s father. Nazio, too, I imagine. It’s always a big day when a principessa marries. Everyone and anyone shows up for it. This guest list is what, four-hundred people deep, and that was before we get into the plus ones.”
Oh, God.
Roz couldn’t even hide the way her heart raced at that statement.
“Mmhmm,” her mother said as though she could read her daughter’s mind. “Talk to me, Roz.”
“A lot of people, I guess.”
“You are going to play a piece at the reception, too, aren’t you?”
“That doesn’t bother me.”
“No, being with him like this does, yes?”
Yeah.
Katya knew her far too well.
“It’s not like the important people don’t already know about me and Naz,” Roz said. “I guess I just never really took in to account what it would mean when the rest of the world knew, too.”
Because that was what today would mean. She was stepping out on the arm of Nazio Donati. Genius. Son of a Cosa Nostra boss. Grandson of two bosses. A mother and grandmother who were as dangerous as they were pretty. His legacy and name ran far deeper than hers ever could.
Roz was not stupid.
She was not innocent.
She didn’t talk about the life because it never mattered to her. But she wasn’t stuck with her head in the sand. She knew exactly where Naz came from, and what it meant for their kind of people to step out together like they were going to do today.
Expectations came with it.
People talked.
Roz hadn’t really thought about any of that until today. It’d never really occurred to her that, in a way, she was going to be in a spotlight she’d never faced before. Even if this wasn’t her fucking wedding.
That was a little overwhelming.
“There’s going to be reporters,” her mother murmured, fixing a stray strand of Roz’s hair. “And you will be in socialite magazines tomorrow. They will speculate, and say things. None of it will matter. You will meet face after face that you may never meet again in your lifetime tonight, but simply smile and be gracious as you are. It’s just as much about showing you off as it is maki
ng a statement.”
Roz blinked. “Is it?”
“What?”
“Making a statement and showing me off.”
Her mother laughed, and leaned in to kiss her daughter’s cheek as her hands squeezed Roz’s shoulders supportively. “I’m quite sure he’s going to enjoy doing it, too. Why wouldn’t he?”
“Roz!”
Her brother’s shout echoed from somewhere downstairs.
“What, Luca?”
“Naz is here. Car’s warm. Stop playing in the mirror. You look fine.”
Roz smiled.
Apparently, she wasn’t going to have to wait to see Naz at all. He’d made time. It made her feel better in a way. About a lot of different things.
She was going to need him to keep making time.
Beyond today …
She needed him.
TWENTY-FOUR
“Roz, come help!”
“Nazio, get over here!”
Naz cursed under his breath as he had to go one way, and Roz was pulled in an entirely different direction in the back halls of the church. The last sight he caught of her was the apologetic smile and small shrug she gave him at the end of the hallway before she was pulled into a room, and gone from his view altogether.
Shit.
“Oh, stop looking so sour,” Catherine told her son, dragging Naz’s attention away from where Roz had disappeared to. “You’ve been with her all morning, Naz. I am sure you can go ten minutes without her.”
“Doubtful,” Naz muttered under his breath.
Oh, he certainly could be forced away from Roz. It was a whole other matter on whether or not he actually wanted to be taken away from her. Because he didn’t. At all. He wanted and needed to get as much fucking time with her as he could because all too soon, she was going to be half way across the goddamn world.
But today wasn’t the day for that. It wasn’t the day for him to get in to all of that shit because it was a happy day. Not his happy day even if he was happy. But a happy day nonetheless.
His sister’s wedding.
Cross shot his son a look from the side—a silent shut up, Nazio—as he worked on fixing a little boy’s tie—one of his man’s sons. “There you are, Junior. Go find your Papa, huh?”
“Thank you, sir.”
His father patted the boy on the top of the head before the kid darted off to find his father. Standing straight, Cross gave Nazio a one-over, and nodded.
“At least I no longer have to fix your ties,” his father said.
“That’s debatable,” his mother countered. “Naz, why is your knot—”
Naz rolled his eyes upward, and zoned his mother out as she started fussing over his fucking tie that was perfectly fine. There was nothing wrong with the knot, and by the time she was done with it, the damn thing would look exactly the same as it had before she got her hands on it. But that was his mother, and there wasn’t very much he could do about her need to fuss when she was stressed out. So, instead of telling her to leave him be, he let her fuck around with his tie for a good couple of minutes before his father decided to step in and save the day.
He heard his father’s chuckle. “Oh, leave him be, Catty.”
“But—”
“Let him go in and see Cece for a minute before we all have to get going and everyone starts rushing. She’s got five minutes, doesn’t she?”
Catherine passed her husband a look. “Fine. You’re not ready.”
His father was already heading down the hallway, ticking a finger over his shoulder as he went. “On my way there now.”
“Late.”
“The boss is never late, Catherine. Everyone else is always early.”
“He is when his wife says so!”
Naz couldn’t help but smirk at the way his mother fake-glared at her husband’s back. No doubt, his father knew it, too.
“Well,” Naz said, fixing the jacket of his tux, “if you’re just about done with your foreplay, I’d like to go talk to my sister before I walk Roz to her seat.”
His mother’s eyes widened, and her gaze turned on him. “That was not fore—”
“Mmhmm. Laundry room, Ma.”
Every single time his parents got in one of their moods, he was thrust back into the memory of coming home way too early and kind of finding his parents in a compromising position in the laundry room. He hadn’t gone far enough to actually see them, but with the way his fucking brain worked … he didn’t need to see to know. Or to create a goddamn image that was forever burned into his brain.
Stupid, genius brain.
Her cheeks pinked. “Nazio!”
“Never gonna forgive you for that,” he muttered. “Ever.”
“Oh, my God,” his mother huffed, “go see your sister.”
“That was the plan, yep.”
Naz barely dodged the playful slap his mother aimed at the back of his head before he slipped inside his sister’s dressing room. It seemed like, for the moment, it was only Cece and her makeup artist in the room. He doubted his sister was getting very much quiet time today. He’d already made the trip across the church to see—and possibly threaten—her husband-to-be, but this was the first time he actually got to see his sister today.
“Hey, you look great, Naz,” Cece said, finally noticing him. She gave him a smile, but quickly went back to doing what the makeup artist told her. “Where’s Ma?”
“Pestering Dad. And aren’t I supposed to be the one telling you how beautiful you look today? It’s your day, Cece.”
His sister—who looked entirely too much like their mother, but with a mind like their father—grinned over at him. “I know how I look, thank you.”
Yeah, just like their mom and dad.
For a moment, the two siblings stared at one another. Naz thought, in those seconds, their entire childhood passed before his eyes. Compliments of that brain of his, there wasn’t one moment of his life growing up with Cece as his big sister that he couldn’t remember.
She taught him how to walk.
He took his first steps for her.
It was going to be some kind of fucked up situation for him when he woke up next week, and realized his sister wasn’t in the same city as him. Sure, they didn’t hang out or talk as much as they used to … life kept them busy like that … but damn, she was always there. A drive or phone call away when he needed her.
Always.
Cece smiled a bit, as though she could read his mind. “California isn’t that far away, Naz.”
“Yeah, I keep trying to tell myself that about Australia, too … but fuck it if I don’t still feel like shit over it, huh? Except I know I shouldn’t feel like that about it at all. Same with this. It’s good—you going to Cali with Juan, that’s good. And I still feel like … well, fuck what I feel. It’s about you, right? You’re happy.”
His sister didn’t need for him to explain. She already knew.
He told Cece everything.
“You’ll figure out a way to make it work, Naz,” Cece said. “You’re too brilliant not to.”
Naz slipped down another back hallway in the church in search of Roz. Someone had said they thought they had seen her come this way, and he felt like he was on a wild fucking goose chase because—
“Jesus Christ!”
He almost fell face first into the floor of an unknown room when Roz suddenly appeared in the doorway, and yanked him inside. It took him far too long to realize it wasn’t just any unknown room.
No, it was the goddamn confessional.
But it was way too late to think about that because she had shut the door, and backed him up against it with a kiss that silenced his chaotic mind. He couldn’t even ask what in the hell she was doing because her hands were already undoing his pants, and slipping beneath his boxer-briefs. Add the tightening of her palm around his hard dick, and the fast strokes of her hand that woke him up in an instant, and Naz was a goner.
He was already trying to get his hands under the many layers o
f chiffon keeping her hidden from him.
“Why do these dresses have so many fucking layers?” he growled against her mouth.
“Because I don’t think this is what you’re supposed to be doing when you wear them, Naz.”
Her laughter quickly melted into the sweetest moan when he yanked her across the room, and she fell into his lap as he found a chair that was not meant for this. He knew the chair wasn’t meant for fucking because he’d sat on it at least once a year from the time he turned thirteen to confess his sins to his priest.
Yeah.
“This is not going in my next confession,” he said in a long groan as Roz fit him between her thighs, and then lowered down fast. Too fast, maybe. It took the fucking air right out of his lungs, and all he could do was grab onto her hips for some kind of stability. “No damn way.”
Her laughter was there again. Filling up the room, and his mind, and his soul. He was probably going to miss hearing that the most when she was gone.
Breathless.
So sweet.
It only lasted long enough for him to pull her in for another kiss, and then she was riding him the way he liked. Fast, and wild. Fingernails digging into his shoulders, and her tongue warring with his. He got to swallow every one of her pretty little sounds while she took what she wanted, and fucked them both to oblivion.
What a fucking way to spend a wedding.
Naz didn’t linger on those thoughts for long because something else was taking up space in his mind. Like the way Roz was shaking, how her hands tightened on him, and how her sounds came out a little higher.
His balls tightened, and heat shot up his spine.
Fuck.
The second she came, he was right there, too.
“Holy Christ,” he mumbled into Roz’s neck.
Yeah, there was definitely a special place in hell with his name stamped on the door for this. Naz was going there with a smile on his face. He didn’t even care.
Then, he had another thought.