“When and where.”
“Oh,” I said. “How about late June? A little less than three weeks from now.” I already had a dress. It belonged to my great-aunt Lola. My feet would be healed. “That’s around your anniversary?” I looked at Mari and Mac.
Mari nodded, almost eager.
I nodded. “In Slovenia. Since mamma and papà were married there. But we can have it all at the castle where their reception took place. There’s a chapel.”
Mamma squeezed papà’s hand.
“Saverio,”zioRocco said.
He took a drink, looking at me over the rim. His eyes were hooded. “I consent.”
I consent.The words from his mouth sent a warm feeling rushing through my blood.
Questions like this went round for round, and by the end, our terms were set and the wedding was basically planned. Especially the security side of things.
One person said nothing the entire time. He listened. He watched.
It would be his decision that sealed or broke the deal.
Luca Leone Fausti.
“Papà?”zioRocco said, looking at him. “Your permission to seal this arrangement?”
I was pretty sure my grandfather had more power than the Pope.
He took a slow drink. He set the glass down.
Sweat beaded on my forehead and ran between my breasts. I couldn’t read him, and his face gave no hints to his feelings. I was tempted to guzzle the rest of my wine, but I decided to wait.Ifhe said yes, I needed something to toast with.
If he said no, would it be war?
One look at Saverio confirmed my worst fear. It would be. He’d steal me again and take me straight to a church. The only reason we were all sitting, cordially, was because Saverio had stolen me in time—right before Elio and I had signed the papers. Elio had been stalling because of the ring issue.
Finally,nonnostood, placing his hands palm down on the table. He looked at papà, then right at Saverio.
I held on to the stem of my glass for dear life.
Chapter21
Saverio
“You have my permission,” the old man had said in Italian, looking straight at me. “I respect a man who defies death for love. You are worthy of my granddaughter’s precious time.” He’d raised his glass, and so did the entire table.
“The course of true love never did run smooth,” Mia had said, lifting her glass even higher.
The old man had smiled at her. “Therefore, what God has joined together, let no one separate.”
A chorus ofsalutewent around, along with the clinking of glasses.
“All is,” Rocco had said, sticking the papers in his folder, “final, then.”
Those words were spoken two weeks ago.
I flexed my fingers, remembering the strain Mia had had on the stem of her glass. There would be no war between her family and mine.
All is final, then.
