I look at her. Really look at her. This woman who worked three jobs to help me buy my first camera. Who believed in my dreams when they seemed impossible. Who's sitting here in a boutique, just happy to be part of her daughter's big moment.
"His family business is... intense. Old-fashioned Italian traditions, you know? Very protective. Very... private."
It's not exactly a lie. Only a very careful version of the truth.
She nods slowly. "I've noticed his friends are quite serious. That Enzo fellow barely smiled when I met him."
"Enzo takes his job very seriously," I say, which is the understatement of the century.
"And you? Do you love him? Really love him? Not just the excitement and the lifestyle and all this?" She gestures around the boutique.
The question stops me cold. Because underneath all the danger and the fake engagement and the viral posts and the very real threats, that's what this comes down to, isn't it?
Do I love him?
"Yes," I whisper. The truth of it threatens to overwhelm me. "Mom, I love him so much it scares me. I love him in ways I didn't know were possible. I love him enough to..." I trail off, not sure how to finish that sentence without terrifying her. If she presses just a little harder, if she says the exact right thing, I’ll crack. I’ll tell her everything. And then Rafe will have to decide how many secrets he’s willing to let my mother take to the grave.
"Enough to what, baby?"
"Enough to follow him anywhere. To be part of his world, whatever that means."
She studies my face for a long moment, then nods. "Okay. Then that's all I need to know." She squeezes my hands. "But Nikki, promise me something. Promise me that if you ever need to come home, if you ever need to get away from all this, you'll call me. No questions asked. No judgment. Just come home."
My throat tightens. "Oh, Mom."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
She smiles, the worried lines around her eyes easing slightly. "Good. Now, let's find you a dress that says 'I'm about to marry the love of my life and I'm ready for whatever comes next.'"
I laugh, surprising myself. "That's very specific."
"Honey, I've been planning your wedding since you were five years old. I know exactly what we're looking for."
And somehow, impossibly, she does. Twenty minutes later, she finds it tucked away in the back of the boutique. A liquid silver silk with intricate beading, backless and absolutely perfect for marrying a handsome monster in a secret chapel.
"This one," she says definitively, holding it up. "This is the one."
I stare at the dress, at my mother's face glowing with excitement, at the reflection of us together in the boutique mirror. For a moment, I let myself pretend this is normal. That I'm just a girl marrying a boy, planning a wedding with her mom.
But then I catch sight of Enzo through the window, standing guard by our car, his eyes constantly scanning the street. And I remember what we're really doing here.
"It's perfect, Mom," I say, and mean it. "Absolutely perfect."
It is perfect.
Backless, dramatic, and exactly the kind of dress you wear when you’re marrying#mafiabaewith excellent taste.
Which is probably why it scares the hell out of me.
CHAPTER 35
NIKKI
The chapel smells like roses and really old secrets. Not the cozy kind. The creepy, heavy kind that probably come with curses and spells.
It's tucked into a hillside, a place so remote I'm pretty sure not even Google Maps knows it exists. Rafe said his mother lit candles here once, years ago, before she disappeared. Before her life, and his, imploded.
