Summer Fire
Page 80
The old lady shifted her eyes to Jonathan and smirked. “Molto bene. Very good.”
They navigated the stairs at a turtle pace to give Nonna time to rest and breathe between steps. When they finally reached the top landing, she pushed them both into her room and shut the door. “So, any good news?”
Isabella glanced at Jonathan who cleared his throat, opened his mouth,… and remained quiet.
“Well, you said you wanted to do it the old-fashioned way. Go ahead,” she prompted.
“Hmm…hmm. Okay…I mean…Nonna Regina, may I ask for your granddaughter’s hand in marriage?”
Nonna clapped her hands. “I knew you’d be smart enough not to let another one steal her from your arms. Now I am completely satisfied with my trip to Sicily. You’ll marry next week, children, right after Lorenzo and Emma. One big reception for both couples.”
“The problem is that we’re supposed to be married already.” Isabella twitched her lips.
“My dear bambina, everyone in Sicily knows me well enough to understand that I would never consider you married if you’d just eloped.” She winked at them. “Of course I should insist on a church wedding, here in Palermo. Followed by a lavish reception at my villa. Finally a happy event reuniting the Cantaris, Ravenos, and Dorranos, to erase and replace the sadness of the past. I will announce it tonight during dinner.”
“Wow, thank you Nonna. I wish Dante could come.”
“He’ll come.” Nonna nodded with a confident smile. “For your wedding, he’ll be here. Even if he has to bring his pregnant wife in a wheelchair.”
*
In the evening, the Raveno family arrived dressed to the hilt, the men in suits and the ladies in semi-formal dresses. Isabella remembered Lorenzo as a tall, dashing young man with dark hair neatly combed, hazel eyes sparking with determination and a smile radiating confidence.
The man who walked into the living room bore little resemblance to the Lorenzo of three years ago. A beard covered part of his face and his eyebrows were gathered into a perpetual scowl.
“Isabella, I owe you thanks. Although I never hurt your brother Rafael, I can’t wait for the opportunity to strangle Dante for letting me rot in that hell hole.” No ironic smile accompanied his words. He still deeply resented her brother.
Isabella cringed and didn’t dare hug him. “I’m glad you’re out.” He had the right to hate her family. Traumatized by his words, she backed away to the bar where Jonathan handed her a drink.
Emma flew into the room, lovely in a pink chiffon dress and high-heeled sandals, a subtle scent of rose and jasmine drifting around her. She threw her arms around her fiancé and smiled. “You look so handsome, Lorenzo.”
He kept an arm around her and heaved a deep breath. “You’ll have to be patient with me, cara mia. I need time to adjust.”
“We all understand, my love. Let’s have a drink and then we’ll plan our future.”
Her mother called the waiters who distributed champagne flutes.
“Listen to me, young people,” Nonna bellowed from her chair. “We can’t continue to dwell in the past and hurt each other. We’ve all suffered. We lost loved ones. It’s time to focus on the present and start a new beginning.”
Mesmerized, they all looked at her.
“Nonna Regina, thank you for reminding us we should grab happiness with both hands now,” Signor Dorrano said. “I’d like to announce the engagements of my daughter Emma to Lorenzo.” He raised his glass. “To Emma and Lorenzo. We hope to have a wedding in a week on Saturday.”
They all repeated, “To Emma and Lorenzo, congratulations.”
“I’m not finished yet,” Nonna interrupted. “I don’t like the way my granddaughter and the man she loves have been carrying on behind my back.” She shook her finger at Isabella and Jonathan while everyone burst out laughing. “I insist they get married in church right after Emma and Lorenzo. We will have a big celebration in my house for both couples.”
Lorenzo’s mother gasped. “My son, a Raveno, would celebrate his wedding in the Cantari house?”
“Yes,” Nonna said with a soft voice. “A sweet revenge for the Ravenos and my way of offering reparations.”
Epilogue
Their first week in Sicily whizzed by faster that the motor bikes roaming the streets. Except for the Vespa scooter that Jonathan rented to discover the region with Isabella sitting behind him, her arms wrapped around his waist.
Nonna had reopened the Cantari villa the day after Emma and Lorenzo’s engagement. Although she’d been afraid of sad memories oppressing her the moment she stepped into the house where she’d lived for almost fifty years, she couldn’t wait to be home and sleep in her own bed. She’d called the maids who used to clean once in a while and instructed them to bring reinforcements and make the place livable again. She even called the local priest to bless the magnificent villa that had seen its share of drama.
Two days later, Jonathan borrowed Nonno’s old SUV and moved their suitcases to the Cantari Villa. Isabella didn’t mind occupying her teenage room again. The cherry on top was Jonathan’s presence in the same house, but without so many people around to chaperone them.
Of course Nonna had assigned her future grandson-in-law a room as far as possible from Isabella’s, but after their agreement to get married in church on Saturday, her grandmother had stopped worrying about propriety and gave them free rein to roam around the island by day and party at night. And party they did!
A secret honeymoon for their secret fake wedding, as Jonathan put it. “We’ll create happy memories in every room,” he promised with a wink.
Isabella had delegated Nonna to decide the details of the wedding. The ultimate joy of planning her bambina’s wedding had visibly rejuvenated the old lady. She’d spent her days meeting with Maria Dorrano and Lorenzo’s mother to organize the two ceremonies and the double reception. Considering the lack of time to send written invitation, they divided between themselves the task of calling their guests by telephone. Signor Dorrano and his son ran the errands or drove the ladies around.
Emma followed Isabella’s example and spent most of her time with Lorenzo, claiming that they needed an engagement period, even if quite short.
On Wednesday, Nonna summoned Isabella to her room, closed the door, and asked her to try the lace wedding dress that three generations of Cantari women had worn. The dress was a tad old-fashioned with bell-like sleeves, but the A-line molded Isabella’s figure and enhanced her cleavage.
“This dress brought me—and later your aunt and your mother—good luck in our marriages. It fits you so well, although it’s a bit short, but who cares? No need for alterations.”
“Isn’t it too low cut?” Isabella tried to pull the material higher to cover her breasts.
Nonna shrugged and chuckled. “I’m sure Jonathan won’t mind.”
*
Nonna called Dante to relate the events and announce Isabella and Jonathan’s wedding. Since then her big brother had been calling several times a day asking if Isabella was sure of her feelings.
Alexa had immediately visited her obstetrician who allowed her to travel providing she avoided walking and took her anti-contraction pills regularly. They arrived on Thursday. After Alexa rested for a few hours, they decided to visit the Raveno family.
Dread clawed up Isabella’s spine at the thought of Dante and Lorenzo’s first encounter. With so much resentment on both sides, she preferred to tag along with Jonathan and try to prevent a new squabble.
Signora Raveno received them with a frosty welcome and led them to the living room, indicating the sofas and chairs with an automatic gesture.
When Lorenzo saw Dante, he froze at the doorway. Dante stood and walked to him, pausing two feet away. They seemed to assess each other silently, then her brother held out a hand to his life-long friend who’d turned into an enemy a few years ago. “I’m sorry for everything.”
Lorenzo looked at the extended hand. “For Rafael’s sake I will forgi
ve the past. But I will never forget.” He took Dante’s hand. “How could you think me capable of killing your brother, my best friend?”
“I’m sorry,” Dante repeated. “I lost my mind, too, that day. You kept accusing yourself. I tried to make my grandfather accept my report, but he wouldn’t. I doubted what I saw and started believing your self-accusations and my grandfather’s. I wish I could do something to change that day and erase the past.”
Lorenzo wiped his forehead as if doing so would wipe out his awful time in prison from his memory. “I’m grateful your grandmother and sister came. I’m grateful you called the chief of police and the judge, and gave your deposition. On Saturday, I’ll marry Emma who has faithfully waited for me and moved Heaven and Earth to get me out. And then we’ll leave this region for some time until I recover some stability and find a job.”
“Lorenzo,” Alexa called from her wheelchair. “I’m Dante’s wife. I would like you and Emma to stay with us. We have a big house and a lot of connections. We will do everything possible to help you settle.”
“Please, Lorenzo.” Dante squeezed his shoulder. “Allow us to atone for the past.”
Lorenzo nodded. “Thank you.”
Isabella sighed in relief. The vendetta had finally died and the past was put to rest.
*
On Saturday morning, Nonna came to Isabella’s bedroom. “Today is your big day, bambina. My wedding dress was your something old.” She opened a velvet jewelry box to reveal a pair of sapphires earrings encircled with small diamonds. “Here is something blue. Your mamma’s earrings. Your father gave them to her at your birth. I thought you should wear them on your wedding day.”
Tears filled Isabella’s eyes. In spite of all her bravado, she wished her parents were still here to share her happy time.
Nonna hugged her. “Don’t cry. They are blessing you from up there.”
“Thank you for taking care of me after they were gone.” She kissed her grandmother.
“Get ready now, bambina.”
Isabella couldn’t believe that today she’d become a married woman.
For real. No more acting, no more charade.
Wedding decorators and caterers arrived early in the morning to transform the huge playroom, its verandah and extending terrace into a dream-like reception room.
At one o’clock the bells of the small historical church of Santa Maria chimed for the wedding of Emma Dorrano and Lorenzo Raveno.
Lorenzo stood at the altar with his two brothers. He’d donned a dark gray suit and crisp white shirt, and had finally shaved the beard that emaciated his face. The guests and relatives were all seated. Dante walked Nonna in to settle in the first pew, next to his wife.
Hidden in the sacristy, Isabella, already in her own bridal attire, watched the cortege proceed down the aisle. The bridesmaid, Patricia, followed by Emma holding her father’s arm. The bride, lovely in a beaded satin dress cut low over her shoulders, and a lace veil covering part of her face, looked straight at her groom.
When the bride and her father approached the altar, Signor Dorrano kissed his daughter and put her hand in Lorenzo’s hand. The priest started the prayers in Italian. Soon they slipped the rings on each other’s fingers, exchanged a short kiss, and walked the aisle as husband and wife.
“Isabella,” Dante called. “It’s your turn now.”
“Yes.” She took his arm and lifted the hem of her dress to go down the spiraling antique staircase. Trepidation and a smidgen of anxiety mingled in her heart. It was one thing to claim a husband for a week and another to get married for her whole life.
“You’re trembling.” Dante glanced at her and rubbed her hand. “Jonathan is a wonderful man. And he loves you deeply.”
“I know.” She smiled and remembered his tenderness and passion as they explored different bedrooms in her grandparents’ villa. “I am ready.”
Her hand in the crook of Dante’s elbow, Isabella glided toward the altar and the man she loved. The priest repeated the prayers.
Jonathan took her hand and smiled. His green eyes sparkling with mischief, he pointed to his own chest. “Me non capisco Italian. Don’t understand. So I’ll say my own vows.”
“Che?” the priest said, raising his palms.
“My darling Isabella, I love you and I promise to cherish and protect you, not only for a week, but for my whole life.”
Laughter bubbled in her throat. Except for Nonna, she was sure no one understood the groom’s strange vows.
“I love you too, Jonathan. I promise to cherish you and avoid any white lies in the future,” she added in a whisper. “You may continue, Padre.” She smiled at the man of the cloth.
Jonathan slipped her mother’s beautiful ring on Isabella’s finger and said, “You’ll have your own soon, a small one filled with love.”
And she pushed a gold band that she’d bought two days ago down his finger.
“Bene.” The priest blessed them and told the groom to kiss the bride.
“Bachia. Kiss. That I understood,” Jonathan said with a big grin as he pulled her against him for a searing kiss.
In the limousine, they toasted their happiness with a glass of champagne. “I love your dress.” Desire shone in Jonathan’s eyes. Hmm, Nonna was always right!
He nuzzled her neck, trailed kisses on her cleavage, and then cupped her face. “Isabella my darling, you captured my heart long ago. Now, you’re my wife and my whole family.”
“I love you, Jonathan. You’re my present and my future.”
While the limousine drove them to their wedding reception, Isabella nestled against her groom. The Sicilian vendetta had ended on a happy note with two weddings and her dreams coming true.
The End
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About Mona Risk
USA Today Bestselling Author, Mona Risk, received an Outstanding Achiever Award from Affaire de Coeur Magazine. Her name has often been posted on the Amazon.com 100 Most Popular Authors in Romance list. She’s a two time winner of Best Contemporary Romance of the Year from Readers Favorite; a winner of Best Romance Novel of the Year from Preditors & Editors Readers Poll; and an EPIC Award finalist.
A tireless traveler, Mona Risk writes contemporary romance, medical romance, and romantic suspense novels, all simmering with emotion, sprinkled with a good dose of humor and set in the fascinating places she visited.
You can email her at mona@monarisk.com.
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A Man for Hire
Patrice Wilton
A MAN FOR HIRE
Copyright © Patrice Wilton 2015
Jordon needs a date for a weekend. Facing her ex-boyfriend’s new bride for the first time was not something she wanted to do alone. Especially since she worked at the winery his parents owned. Especially since she thought one day they would marry. But she never expected to hire a hot guy going through a divorce, and to fall in love.
Chapter One
“Kari—I have a confession to make.” Jordon Marshall paused for a second, delaying the moment of truth. Her sister wouldn’t judge her harshly, but she’d be ticked off that Jordan hadn’t told her before.
“I hope it’s a good one,” Kari said. “You’ve been acting mysterious about this whole weekend, and I’m dying to know why.”
Jordon propped her elbows on the wooden table, and glanced around at the other patrons in the small, dark tavern. No one within hearing distance, but still she lowered her voice. “I’ve slept with him.”
“Slept with who?”
“With him. You know. Bradley Langford. The guy who’s my date for the weekend.”
“But how could you? You haven’t even met him!”
“Actually I have.”
“Okay, okay! Backtrack here.” Kari lowered her voice. “Exactly when did you meet him and sleep with him, and all that good stuff? And why am I just hearing about this now?”
“Well, it wasn’t important before.” It had been an incredible night she’d kept close to the chest. “But now it is. You don’t tell me about every guy you hook up with, do you?”
“No, but you wouldn’t want to know. You, on the other hand, have had one boyfriend in the past two years.”
“True. But, Kari, we weren’t even on a date!” Jordon felt her cheeks warm, just saying the words. How could she ever have done such a thing? She wasn’t a party girl. Her sister…but this was not about Kari. It was Jordan’s moment of truth. “I didn’t even know him,” she said in a final rush, fanning her flushed face. She would be so happy to get this conversation over with.
“Holy crap! That is so not you. You never go for cheap hook-ups. You’ve never slept with someone that you weren’t in love with.” Kari laughed. “As your sister, I know every guy you’ve had a crush on since you were nine years old!” She snorted. “Until now.”
“The whole situation was really messed up. So was I.” She put one hand over her chest and the remembered pain. “You know the day I found out about Tom getting married? Well I went out with Cindy. Some new hot shot bar in mid-town where we met after she got off work.”
“Cindy? The one you worked with at the PR office—before you made the biggest mistake of your life and took the job at the winery?” Kari didn’t hide her dislike of all things related to Tom, including the family business.
“Yeah, that Cindy. And it wasn’t the biggest mistake of my life. Sleeping with a total stranger tops that by a mile. Anyway, let me finish.” Jordan sighed and took a sip of the wine she’d ordered, hoping it might ease her nerves. What would he say when he saw her again?
“Go on. I’m all ears.”
“Yeah, well, it was happy hour. Cindy and I were having martinis and I was telling her the whole ugly story. She’d met Tom several times, and we’d gone out together as couples. So, she couldn’t believe it when I told her he’d met someone in Italy, and was bringing her home as his bride.” She inched the wine glass away before she drained it.