“Get bent, brother.”
Someone cleared his throat. Loudly. Both men looked up in surprise at the priest who hadn’t missed a word of their exchange. He regarded them now with brows knit so tightly together it was impossible to tell where one left off and the other began.
“Uh, sorry, Padre,” Mac offered. “Forgot where I was for a minute.”
Luca’s phone vibrated again.
“You gonna check that?”
With a frustrated grunt, Luca pulled the phone from his pocket under the disapproving gaze of the priest and glanced at the display.
I luv u.
When he began to tuck the phone back in his jacket, it vibrated again. Seriously?
Well?
With a resigned sigh, his fingers flew over the keys.
I luv u 2 now get ur butt out here and marry me.
Luca dropped his phone into the outside pocket of his jacket. He suddenly became aware of the hushed silence in the chapel. Not that he was complaining. Frankly, he thought if he never heard Pachelbel’s Canon in D for the remainder of his unnaturally long life it would be too soon. Again, his phone buzzed insistently. It sounded incredibly loud now that there were no other sounds to drown it out. Kat moved up on his left and arched a brow in the direction of his pocket. Okay, what was she doing here? She was supposed to be walking down the aisle ahead of Calli. Luca dropped his head back on his shoulders, looked at the ceiling, and prayed for patience. Then he dug in his pocket and looked at the phone. The screen was blank. What the hell?
“Turn around.”
The directive echoed inside his head in Calli’s soft, sweet voice. Wanting nothing more than to get this over and start the honeymoon, he did as he was told. And then he promptly forgot how to breathe.
She looked like a fashion plate from Godey’s Ladies’ Book. The white silk bodice detailed with hand embroidered lace clung to Calli’s every curve. Sharp knife pleats peeked below the heavy swag of the draped overskirt that drew back on both sides to form a bustle that then flowed into a short train. Forgoing the traditional veil, her beautiful, dark hair was pulled to the side and arranged in an intricate design of curls and twists woven with orange blossoms that started at the crown of her head and tumbled down over her shoulder. A vision from his past, standing in his present, promising him the future. Luca hoped he would be able to force words over the tightness in his throat when it came time to speak his vows.
With a radiant smile and a wink, Calli pointedly held up her phone and then tucked it in her brother Alec’s jacket pocket and laid her hand on his arm. The musicians started up again, but it wasn’t the traditional Wedding March Luca had been expecting. Deviating slightly from her eighteen-eighties’ theme, Calli had gone all nineteen-eighties and walked down the aisle to the movie theme from After All.
Luca’s heart swelled as he concentrated on the lyrics and realized how utterly appropriate the song was for them. They really were two angels who’d been rescued. Luca may have been instrumental in gaining Calli’s physical freedom from her captor, but she’d turned right around and rescued him in an even more profound way. Not that he’d be sharing any of this aberrant emotional crap with anyone over a Moretti any time soon. It was enough that he understood it. He heard a subdued sniffle beside him. Okay, so maybe Kat understood it, too. Sometimes it was a real bitch having an empath for a sister.
Alec and Calli reached him just as the final strains of the music faded. Her heart shone from her eyes, and Luca saw more than he’d ever expected, and far more than he thought he deserved. His. Forever. Alec kissed his sister’s cheek and placed her hand in Luca’s then stepped back to take a seat next to Madge as the priest stepped forward and the ceremony began.
Luca looked down into Calli’s eyes and saw the life ahead of them unspool like a roll of shiny ribbon. It might tangle sometimes, or tie itself in knots. It might even fray around the edges. But the fibers of that ribbon were woven together as strongly and intricately as Luca’s soul was intertwined with Calli’s and whatever awaited them, they would navigate it together.
For so many years, he’d embraced denial as a close friend, existing in an emotional state of beige requiring little attention and less response. Well, if beige was a comfortable neutral, loving Calli was like being hit in the head with a kaleidoscope—painful, blinding. He’d been afraid to trust in those rainbow colors, but taking the chance had rewarded him with his own personal pot of gold staring up at him with the most incredible blue eyes in a shade that no rainbow could ever duplicate. Eyes that trusted him completely. Eyes shining with an adoration he hoped he could live up to. Eyes that were suddenly narrowed and topped by finely arched brows that slammed together in a frown.
“Luca!” Calli hissed in a peeved undertone. The hem of her gown jumped up and down in rhythm to her tapping toe. It was the only sound to be heard as the congregation held their collective breath.
“What?” he whispered back in confusion.
“Father said you may kiss the bride. In fact, he’s said it three times. We really must work on your problem with listening.”
Calli reached up and grabbed both his ears, pulling his head, and his lips, to hers as the guests chuckled warmly in the background. Luca Fiorelli, The Ice Warrior, the Earthbound hunter who personified calculated control, found himself completely lost in the kiss. His arms came around her slender waist, and he pulled her hard against him. He felt her smile against his mouth when his body reacted instantly, and he realized he needed to get a grip. There was no sense stoking a fire he had no opportunity to extinguish, at least not for the next few hours. But damn, she felt good.
He pulled away slightly, then unable to resist, cupped the back of her neck and went back in for seconds. His fingers traced the row of tiny satin covered buttons that started right below her hairline and continued down the length of her spine for as far as he could decently run his hands in their present surroundings. Suddenly he remembered all of the things he hated about nineteenth century clothes. Well, okay, maybe just the one thing, the long and torturous process of removing them. Judging by the style, he’d be willing to bet she was wearing layers and layers of petticoats under the damn thing, too. Merde, it was going to be a long night.
Mac cleared his throat. Luca lifted his head and turned to face the thunderous applause of the congregation echoing off the ceiling and ancient stone walls. Kat handed Calli her bouquet and Luca pulled her arm through his as they stepped down from the altar and processed down the aisle.
Calli paused to hug her mother. Magdalena’s thousand megawatt smile shone through her tears.
“You’ve always been my son, Luca,” she stretched up to kiss him on both cheeks. “This makes it official.”
Luca didn’t know what to say to that. In fact, he was pretty sure speech was beyond him. He had no words eloquent enough to express what filled his heart. He swallowed hard, and Calli squeezed his arm. Madge thumbed a tear from the corner of his eye and Luca realized no response was necessary. Magdalena understood him, she always had. She’d never had any difficulty seeing the man beneath the façade.
“Buck up, bello,” Madge whispered in a teasing voice. “Your reputation is going to be shot to hell if you start blubbering with joy.”
“You look beautiful, Madge,” Luca smiled crookedly. If Calli was the picture of Victorian innocence, Madge was the epitome of modern Milan. Svelte and elegant in a body hugging one-shouldered silver designer gown crisscrossed with Grecian draping, she could never be mistaken for a frumpy mother of the bride. Madge had always been a beautiful woman and never more so than when her face glowed with happiness for her family.
“Certo!” She grinned. “Now move. If we don’t get to the reception on time, ’Tonio will never let me hear the end of it.”
“See you later, Mother,” Calli winked, tugging on Luca’s hand as they moved down the aisle with Mac and Kat following close behind.
“Exactly how attached are you to that dress?” Luca leaned down and
whispered in Calli’s ear while keeping a cordial smile plastered on his face.
“It’s my wedding dress, Luca. It will become one of my most treasured possessions. Don’t you like it?” She whispered back worriedly.
“You look like a dream, carissima,” Luca sighed dramatically. “But I like you much better out of it. There must be close to a hundred buttons. And a bustle? Really? Couldn’t you have picked something a little more modern and a lot less complicated and time consuming to remove?”
Calli flashed him a decidedly saucy grin. As the first of the guests approached, she stretched up on her toes and brought her lips close to his ear. The moist heat of her breath on his neck caused his mouth to go dry. He couldn’t help it. The reception was scheduled to last four hours. Four long hours. He was a man in pain.
“Actually, I’ve become quite a forward thinker, open to new ideas, embracing modern inventions,” she breathed in a husky voice. “And to prove it, I have one word for you to ponder for the next four hours.”
“What’s that, carissima?” Luca whispered back.
She offered him a small, secretive smile and grasped his hand. She guided it around to her back, and her nimble fingers tugged at the Velcro securing the placket to which the buttons were attached with faux fabric loops.
“Zipper.”
A word about the author...
Sharon Saracino was born and raised in the beautiful anthracite coal region of Northeastern Pennsylvania. A lifelong love of writing took a back seat to real life while she got married, raised a family, went back to college, and finally decided what she wanted to be when she grew up!
The oldest of three siblings, she was raised in a small town rich in history and filled with characters galore. She began writing seriously again in 2006 in the non-fiction arena. Her work has appeared in Rehabilitation Nursing and The Pennsylvania Patient Safety Advisory. Sharon is a member of Pennwriters, Romance Writers of America, and the Maryland Romance Writers. When she is not reading, writing, or dabbling in photography and genealogy, she works full time as a Certified Registered Rehabilitation Nurse.
She plans to win the lottery just as soon as she remembers to purchase a ticket, fantasizes about moving to Italy, brews limoncello, and spends time with her incredible husband, funny and talented son, and two crazy dogs.
Visit her at:
http://sharonsaracino.com
Thank you for purchasing
this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Angel Unbound Page 21