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“Stop making me laugh.” I cover my mouth, then I spot a car waiting for us past the gate. I hurry, but he slows me down by placing a hand on top of mine. “No rush. I rarely get a chance to walk with you.” He looks around. “It’s a nice day. My uncle would’ve been happy with the attendance.” Severio sighs.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“It is what it is. I mourned him long ago. This was just a formality, a chance for others to do the same.”
At the gate, Severio waves off the car, telling the driver we’ll walk back. He turns toward town, but I halt. “I have to stop by the church.”
“We went there already.”
“We did. But given your non-proposal, I need a few minutes to myself.”
Severio doesn’t like it. I can tell he doesn’t because he scans the surroundings, grinds his teeth, looks down at me, then shakes his head. “People will expect you at Frenchy’s for the repast.”
“I’ll be there.”
He drops his elbow, and we separate.
“I’ll ask you to marry me tomorrow.” He jerks his head toward the church behind me. “Make peace with it. Do whatever you need to do.”
I throw up my hands. “We agreed it’s too soon. We agreed I need time.”
“No, Cristina, you tried to reason with me, but I can longer be reasoned with. I’ve already decided I’m marrying you.” He points toward Gio’s gravesite. “Since my parachute didn’t deploy that could’ve been me, and I want what I want right now, not in one year.”
“Then ask me tomorrow.”
“You can refuse me.”
“I could.”
“I’ll tell you what will happen if you do.”
I brace. “What?”
Severio smirks. “I’ll keep asking every day. Flowers, chocolates, kittens, puppies. You want a pony? You’ll have it. And if none of those gifts makes you say yes, I’ll give you the hotel.” He cups my face. We’re in the middle of the street. “The house. I also have yachts. They’re bigger than yours.”
“Stop being so sexy,” I tell him. “It’s annoying.”
Severio tilts his head and dips it.
“No, don’t,” I mumble, too late, because he’s already kissed me. On the sidewalk. In front of everyone. It’s not a deep, long kiss, and people could interpret it as some sort of awkward family thing, as if he meant to kiss my cheek but missed, so he played it well.
But I know. I know it’s meant to be a heated, conquering kind of kiss that’ll keep burning on my lips long after Severio walks away.
His smug expression tells me he thinks he’s winning. “You won’t refuse me. You can’t say no, and that’s why you stopped me from asking in the first place.” He smiles. “I already own you. All of you. Every inch of you.” He smiles wider, all teeth and dimples. “You’re going to be my wife. Cristina Severio Mancini.”
I spin on my heel and wave. “Goodbye, Severio.”
“I’ll give you an hour,” he shouts after me, and the people walking past us on the sidewalk start to turn. “And after Frenchy’s, you’re coming over and spending the night.”
At the church entrance, I put my hands on my hips. “Shout a little louder, would you?”
Severio’s backtracking, a wicked smirk curling his lips.
“My boyfriend over in Sicily didn’t hear you.”
That wipes the smug smile right off his face. I cross myself and enter the church, feeling a little evil and a lot less sad.
30
