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‘To your wedding?’ he asked, as a smile decorated his handsome features and momentarily, as only he could do to me, the whole of my body stalled.
Having Salvatore De Luca in such close proximity should come with a health warning. The tension between us was palpable. And even worse, I knew that if anyone cared to watch us too closely, they would be sure to see the chemistry. I had no experience apart from what I’d read and the way Salvatore made me feel, but even I understood that the need, the unbearable craving to touch him and the dull ache that seemed to build inside of me whenever he was near, was far from normal. If it was normal, how did people go about their everyday lives?
Knowing this was his opportunity, Salvatore closed the gap between us. Slowly, he lowered his head towards mine and mesmerised I watched as his eyes began to close, hypnotising me in the process. Desperate to feel his lips on mine and to seal my fate as a harlot who cavorted with another man on her wedding day, I reached for the lapel of his suit jacket and tried to pull him closer.
But he never came any closer.
All I could feel was his breath leaving his body and caressing my needy, demanding flesh.
‘You’re getting married remember?’ he teased.
My eyes shot open to find his amused ones staring back at me.
‘Let me go,’ I insisted and reluctantly I felt him release his hold.
I watched as he straightened himself out and then as he quickly dipped his head to my ear and whispered. ‘My breath makes you tremble; can you imagine what my tongue would do?’
And leaving me in his wake, he turned and made his way towards the church. Just before he reached the door he turned and gave me one last look.
‘Now, we have a problem. I told you I’d lift your veil when we married.’ As his words sunk in, I felt my mouth open ever so slightly.
‘No,’ I voiced in disbelief.
No, it can’t be him.
But of course, it was. His words had finally penetrated, and I hated and loved the thought in equal measure.
Salvatore reached up for one of the large bows on the flowers near to the door of the church. He flicked up the back of his jacket and pulled out a copy, albeit a much smaller version, of his own jewelled knife. The one I knew I’d seen in my dreams of him, and my nightmares of Zeno’s death, and he used it to slice a long length of the white net away.
‘I had this made for you, iron is supposed to be lucky at a wedding, and we’ll need all the luck we can get. Although, I’m not sure what the hell you can tuck it into, wearing that dress.’ Humour looked good on him, even when it was at my expense.
‘How about I plunge it into your throat?’ Even I was impressed with the vehemence in my voice, but all it did was make him smile wider.
‘Get your bridesmaids to fit this for you.’ He dropped the net to a stone bench. ‘And start praying your husband-to-be appreciates yourchoiceof wedding dress,’ Salvatore proffered me a wink, ‘otherwise you’ll be in for a hell of a night, little bird.’
Trembling slightly from all that had happened in the previous few minutes, I watched as the flesh and blood version of all my dreams and nightmares disappeared inside.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SERAFINA
Who are you?
The same question had been going around my head since we’d been declared married.
Dutiful daughter to a shamed family? A sibling in mourning? Loving wife?
I knew I was none of those things, not really. And it felt like the rug had been pulled out from underneath me. I was Serafina De Luca, but I hadn’t the slightest idea who she was.
‘Congratulations to you both.’ I heard my Uncle Enzo’s voice sound out from behind us. I held my breath as I waited for him to touch me, like I knew he would. It took everything I had not to shudder as his sweaty fingers touched the bare skin on my shoulder, and stayed there, as always just slightly too long.
‘Grazie,’ Salvatore curtly replied for us both without turning his head and I nodded my head just the once, as I tried not to appear rude to any of our guests, even the ones I couldn’t bear to be nearby.
Thankfully, when no further conversation came from either of us, he moved quickly away.
Reaching forward, I carefully picked up the beautifully cut, dessert wine glass. Making sure I had a firm hold, I forced myself to slow down the action of moving it to my mouth, as I concentrated hard on controlling the shake of my hand. The same shake I’d been able to see in the two previous glasses I’d drunk straight down just as soon as the speeches had started.
The first, I’d downed in two gulps as I’d watched my dear papa struggle to his feet and lean against the table in front of him for support, after refusing any help to stay standing. It seemed he was determined to stand in front of the gathered audience as he’d spoke of his immense pride and the love that he and my mum had for me. As he’d thanked my new family for hosting the occasion, I understood he was thanking the Don for a second chance to prove himself. Even worse, was when he wished me and Salvatore a long marriage, filled with understanding, patience, and many children, and I’d noted that he didn’t mention the word love at all.
