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In his outstretched palm was her platinum-diamond wedding ring. Ana reached for it, but he took her hand in his and gently slid it up her ring finger.
Déjà vu struck her at the move, taking her back to the last time he had done this on their wedding day. There had been such turmoil within her even then. The rumors and unsolicited advice about her new husband, the expectations of a Don’s wife, and the past she’d been so desperate to hide–had all paralyzed her.
But when they’d finally been alone in their hotel room, it had somehow all faded away.
Ana had slept with him without abandon, opening up to him in ways she never thought she could. It had felt like a freefall, exhilarating and terrifying all at once.
There had always been a heady connection tethering her to him, one she could never deny. Even when she feared it. So it was all the worse that they’d regressed after her nightmare. Reverting to the start, back to when they’d been awkward and proper, watching each other from afar.
Her fingers curled in his grip, and Gio’s eyes came up to hers. Hooded, dark…and almost tender. Her chest cleaved at the flash of emotion there.
But it was gone.
Cold focus took over him again as he reminded her of the time.
Sigh.
Picking up her clutch, she followed him out, a heavy ache in her breast. She had a feeling that for their situation to be repaired, it would have to be by her move.
“Isn’t it perfect?”
Gio surveyed the large ballroom, with not one but ten chandeliers suspended from the ceilings and a ten-foot floral arch at the entrance, before turning back to her aunt. “Reminds me of our wedding.”
Ana hid her amusement. Auntie had one signature style of décor: over-the-top. The matriarch had somehow squeezed in ten times the number of flowers and crystals than were at their wedding. It was positively gaudy, but Auntie looked supremely pleased.
“There wasn’t much we could do with the church,” she sighed. “The nineteenth-century architecture couldn’t support some of the installations I wanted. But this hall is perfect. Everyone will be so impressed!”
“I’m sure they will,” Gio said diplomatically before nodding at a thin man who’d just arrived.
“Oh, please don’t let us keep you.” Her aunt ushered him on.
When he excused himself to greet the guest, Auntie fixed her beady gaze on Ana, the sickly-sweet tone vanishing into thin air.
Dread poured into her. What now?
“That dress is a bit revealing, isn’t it?” Auntie remarked, staring pointedly at the slit.
Ana glanced down, but nothing was showing. The older woman was frowning as if she were standing buck-naked in front of all and sundry.
“People should know he married a respectable woman. A Mancini.”
“And they do know,” Ana retorted, lips flat. “Besides…I’m a Bernardi now.”
If the shock on her aunt's face grew any more pronounced, she could have doubled as a cartoon character. Ana felt a little shocked herself. She’d never been so outspoken with Auntie before. But all the frustration from the last two months of planning and the sleepless nights had loosened her tongue. She’d neglected her own business to help with this event, and this was all her aunt had to say?
“We’re still your family,” Auntie admonished, looking hurt. “I did all this for you,” she waved at the grand room, “so you would be a triumph tonight.”
A twinge of guilt punctured Ana’s ire. Her aunt was always a bit much, but it was always with the goal of elevating Ana and Antonio’s image in the Family. Even if that was the last thing they wanted.
“Everything is fine, isn’t it?” Auntie asked. “With you and Gio.”
A weight settled in her chest.
No, it wasn’t.
But Ana smiled placatingly. “Of course.”
“He trusts you?”
