“That can be easily arranged.” We own the east coast. I can call upon any Catholic priest and they will be here in little time. One residing here in New York will make the most sense.
“And we have the problem if Constantine and Carina will approve. Otherwise,” he pretends to slice his throat and drops his head to the side with his tongue sticking out, “it’s off with our heads.”
“Then pray they will accept.”
“You’re not religious.”
“No, but you are.”
He gathers the cross necklace from under his shirt and kisses it. “Think God will listen to a sinner like me?”
“For our sake, hopefully he makes the exception.”
He snorts. “Good one.”
Palm outstretched, I order, “Hand me your phone.”
“Why?”
I smile and Pietro looks at me as if I’ve grown three heads. “It’s time to call a Catholic priest.”
“Now?”
I nod my head. “Change of plans for you, Pietro. You’re staying the night. I need you as the witness.”
“Yippee,” he fake cheers while handing me over the phone. As I scour the internet for a local Catholic priest I hear adelightful squeal from him. I look up to find him a tad too excited. “This makes me your best man!”
“Hardly,” I respond as I find one. Father Roberto Pezzi. He’ll do. It doesn’t take long before I find his personal information.
“Can you let me just have this moment? I get to gloat to Gino I’m the favorite,” he gleams. I roll my eyes at his antics.
Dialing the priest’s number I wait for him to pick up. His moral obligation will make him. Probably thinks a lost soul found his number and wants to regain their faith.
An answer. “Father Roberto Pezzi. How may I help you dear child?”
“My name is Rico Morelli.” A stunned silence greets me back. “And I need your help in officiating a marriage.”
CHAPTER 36
Imogen
Iwake with an unfamiliar weight upon my finger. I had planned on staying up but my mind would’ve travelled down a dangerous territory that would’ve had me questioning everything. It was only best I slept.
As I rapidly blink my eyes to adjust to the soft dim lighting I look down at my finger.
My ring finger.
My left ring finger.
My eyes must surely be deceiving me because why is there an emerald cut diamond on my finger?
I’m dreaming. I have to be.
I rub at my eyes and then slap at my cheeks to wake me up.
But it’s still there.
“Do you like it?” I’ve been so engrossed by the dazzling ring which captures light even in this setting that I didn’t notice him leaning against the doorframe. A first.
