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With carelessly swept dark brown hair and bright blue eyes, the lean young man was a near mirror image of her aunt.
“Ten minutes late, Antonio,” Auntie scolded.
“Fashionably late.” He winked before kissing his mother on the cheek. With a broad grin, he came forward to wrap an assuring arm around Ana’s shoulder.
She sighed, leaning against her cousin.
He instantly began chattering away nonstop, joking with his mother and even the maid about all the fuss going on just beyond the abbey doors. But she didn’t pay them any attention. He’d thankfully managed to distract the other two women until all their voices blended into a muted hum, allowing her to take a moment to herself.
No fussing, no lectures. Just the calm peace inside her mind.
It was funny how Antonio was younger than her by five years and often acted like it, but he was immeasurably steady when she needed him the most.
“Ready?” He nudged her.
No.
There were too many people waiting just beyond the threshold, waiting to judge her. But she took a brave breath and looped her arm through his as the doors swung open.
In an instant, the decibel level all around them escalated through the roof.
There had been no one else in the narrow hallway, but here at the entrance, it became suddenly and painfully obvious just how large of a gathering this was. The waves of crowds turning toward her were so immense, they floored her. Beside her, Auntie’s expression had become drawn and intensely focused, which exacerbated her anxiety.
It was the first time in decades that people were able to witness the marriage of a Don. Most of the prior Dons had ascended to power long after marriage and children.
But not Gio.
He was only thirty-one, four years older than her. But even though their ages were close together, people regarded them very differently. Girls were expected to adopt their duty and marry early in the Family. And at her age, she was nearly over the hill.
Would they all wonder why he had chosen her?
Would he?
“There he is.”
“Oh,” Ana gasped, so lost in her head that she’d scarcely noticed the two men at the altar. The priest moved into place, and the man beside him–
Her focus was suddenly diverted by the Wedding March launching on the church organs with a deafening boom, echoing through the vaunted hall. There was a tremendous rush as the room rose to their feet, and the man straight ahead of her turned to her. But she couldn’t look that way.
Her mind had gone completely blank, and everything blurred in front of her. Seas of eyes watched as Antonio smoothly escorted her down the aisle, observing her every feature with their curious, cunning gazes. They huddled together to whisper amongst each other, and she knew what they were saying.
Too old.
Too thin.
Miss Perfect.
A no-name upstart who had risen too far.
Ana smiled serenely at them all with each step, focusing only on the gentle sway of her drop earrings, the bouncing fullness of her skirt, and the magnificent veil with each of its thirty-one flowers.
Until they came to a halt at the altar.
Antonio’s hand gripped her with a sudden tension, and she startled, glancing up into the eyes of the one man she had feared and desired for almost two years.
Gio.
Had she said it out loud, or was it just in her head?
