Page 52 of Jealous Vows

“You’re fucking scary when you’re like this,” Alan says.

“You’re a fucking loser when you waffle like this.”

If I could take back the insult, I would, but time only flows in one direction and he hasn’t pulled a gun on me yet, so I stand my ground.

Alan throws back his head and laughs.The gesture is so similar to Romeo’s I wonder why I ever doubted their brotherly bond.

“You’re exactly the woman that bullheaded mule needs for a wife.I’m sorry I doubted you, Sienna.”He reaches into the pocket of his jeans.“And I’m sorry I insulted you the first day we met.Welcome to the family,mia sorella.”

For a proud man like my husband-to-be’s brother, the sentiment means more than words can express.

He pulls his fist out of his pocket and holds a small carving on his palm.

Trapped in emotions, I stare at his offering as I recall the dozens of similar carvings hidden around Gran’s home.I didn’t realize Alan made them all as little tokens of love; I thought they were just weird feng shui or design choices Gran preferred.Some sit perfectly balanced in fancy wall hangings while others add an earthy touch to Gran’s colorful cookbooks.They all have hidden meanings and this one is no different except it’s for me and only me.

I lift it from his callused palm, noting the scars and fresh cuts and bruises on his hand, clench my fist around it, and press my hand to my sternum.

“Thank you,mio fratello.I forgive you,” I say through the frog in my throat.

He smiles, gives a slight bow, claps Romeo on the shoulder, and strides away.

Because even with his brother, Romeo is still the only one allowed to touch me.

And touch he does.I rise onto my toes as he yanks me against him and devours my mouth.His hands roam over every inch of me.I tug his hair and tease his ears and throat.He growls.I wriggle my hips.

Two feminine voices drift down the hall.We pull apart.

“I know your makeup artist is gay, but I’m going mad at the thought of him putting his hands on you.I’ll make you pay for choosing a male artist.Capisci, bambolina?”he rumbles.

“Sì,amore mio.I can’t wait,” I whisper.

He growls, steals a panty-melting kiss, then strides down the hall.

Valentina clears her throat.

“It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony,” Renata admonishes.

Romeo winks and disappears around the corner.I sigh and turn to my friends.

“That’s the dress, not the bride, and isn’t it just a silly superstition?”Valentina asks.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to follow it, but I do.I’m ready for all the traditions,” Renata says.

“I thought people think traditions are stuffy and outdated nowadays.I just did what I wanted,” Valentina says with a shrug.

Renata rubs the back of her neck before rolling her shoulders and lifting her chin.

“Maybe so, but I think tradition is what makes marriage romantic,” Renata says with a fleeting smile.

A masculine scoff sounds from down the hall.Renata’s eyes widen, and her back goes ramrod straight.She stares straight ahead as though afraid to turn around and face the newcomer.

“You always were an obnoxious goody-two-shoes, weren’t you,Nada?Are you still too afraid to break the rules?”

Disbelief roars through me.Did a man just call Renata Bonnetti, a real-life mafia princess,nada?As in the Spanish word for nothing?

Renata turns carefully controlled eyes to mine.

“I’m extremely happy for you and wish you nothing but the best in your marriage.Please excuse me.I think I’m going to be sick from the smell of garbage.”She throws the last word over her shoulder at the idiot.