Page 2 of Dante

It sounds ridiculous, but I sensed our lives would connect.

Like the universe had circled that moment in red, even though there had been no reason for me to believe it could possibly happen.

I mean, he had to have been at least thirty, with the kind of confidence that comes from a lifetime of people obeying you without question.

I was nothing more than a wide-eyed schoolgirl with blond curls and a sea-green stare. The kind of girl grown men didn’t see.

And if that wasn’t enough reason to know Dante would never notice me, there was his gorgeous new wife by his side. And I SAW the way he looked at her…

I knew even then that I would give anything to have my future husband look at me that way. Like she was heaven and stars to him.

Well, she struck me as rude and arrogant.

Especially when she pulled on his sleeve, signaling it was time to go.

He turned, and at that moment, our eyes met. It was the briefest instant, but I remember it clearly, frozen under the full moon.

And then he disappeared.

It had happened so fast, I wondered if I’d imagined it.

I had no idea who he was.

But here I am, seven years later, suddenly married to my Sicilian summer crush.

“So what made you agree to the marriage? Assuming your folks gave you a choice.”

“Oh, I had a choice,” I say.

Though in truth I only agreed when I realized it would be my secret crush, Dante Ricci, I would be marrying.

“But my parents were keen on this match. And they reminded me that by moving to Manhattan, I’d be closer to the Academy of Visual Arts.”

Angie screws up her face. “School? When you’re married to a gorgeous mafia don? Honey, we need to talk.”

We both laugh, and I realize how strange this must sound to her.

“You’re right.” I turn my attention to Dante across the room as he greets friends and family.

I lean closer to Angie. “My mother told me Dante is a widower. Tell me about his wife. Everyone here says how much he loved her. And that I have some pretty big shoes to fill.” I pause. “How did she die?”

“Your mother didn’t tell you?” Angie seems surprised.

“No. I’m not sure she knows herself.”

“Well, they called it an accident.”

“Who does? What kind of accident?”

“The official police report determined she was drunk and walking down a rocky stretch of the beach. She slipped and hit her head on a rock.”

Dante’s first wife, a drunk?

“What beach? Why was she drunk?”

Angie shrugs. “The beach outside the Riccis’ Long Island estate. It was a Fourth of July party. I wasn’t there, so I can’t give you a personal report.”

“Why weren’t you there? You’re Dante’s cousin.”