“You’re a good nephew.” Sloane extends her hand toward him and lifts her eyes to me. “We should probably make tracks.”
“Let me take a picture,” I say as Elio places his hand in hers. They pose in the doorway, both smiling happily, and I snap a couple of pics.
“I’ll take one of you two,” Sloane offers, holding her hand out for my cell.
We switch places, and I slide my arm around my son and smile for the camera.
“My turn!” Elio rushes toward Sloane. “I’ll take a photo of you and Daddy.”
“Um.” Sloane shuffles awkwardly on her feet.
“Here, let me show you what to do.” Crouching beside my son, I demonstrate how to use the camera on my phone. Then I take Sloane’s hand and move us back a little, circling my arm around her waist from behind. Heat from her body rolls over me in sumptuous waves, and the heady scent of her spicy perfume tickles all my senses. The urge to bury my face in her neck and just soak her in is almost overwhelming. My cock stirs in my pants, and it’s becoming a huge problem around her. Pun intended. My fingers tighten a little at her waist, and I pull her closer. We smile as Elio snaps away, wearing a gleeful grin.
“You’re trembling,” I say, turning my head to look at her when I feel her shaking. She’s only a couple of inches shorter than me in her heels, which I love.
“I’m nervous,” she admits, peering deep into my eyes.
The world outside fades as we stare at one another. My heart thumps frantically against my chest wall as I’m ensnared by her gorgeous, big blue eyes. They hide deep chasms and endless depths, and I want to dive in and drown in them—in her. I’m not fully cognizant when I draw her body flush against mine or when her hand gravitates to my chest, and I’m not aware that Elio is still taking pictures. I’m completely under her spell as we get lost in one another. My gaze lowers to her mouth, and her eyes fixate on my lips. It would take nothing to close the scant distance between us and claim her. I want to. I want to so badly, but I can’t. I wish things could be different. Those thoughts are like a sledgehammer to my heart and my head, and I pull back, letting her hand drop off my body as I put much-needed distance between us. “Sorry.”
“For what?” she whispers.
“For getting so lost in you,” I truthfully admit. “Sometimes, it’s way too easy to forget there are boundaries when it comes to you.”
Sadness glistens in her eyes as she nods. “Then I’m sorry too, for I’m guilty of the same thing.”
“Here.” Elio shoves his way in between us, smiling as he thrusts the cell at me. It’s a timely intervention I’m grateful for. “I took lots and lots of pictures. I might be a photo man instead of an asonaut,” he proclaims.
“It’s photographer, bud, and you can be whoever you want.” I playfully ruffle his hair before smoothing it back out. Don’t want to risk the wrath of the Da Rosa women.
“Can you send those to me?” Sloane says, peering at the phone. “If that’s okay?”
“Of course.” I select all the photos, purposely not looking at them, and send them to her cell. “Come on, let’s go.” I clasp Elio’s hand. “Clint and Umberto are waiting downstairs for us.”
20
CRISTIAN
I’m right. Every pair of eyes turns to stare as I walk Sloane up the aisle toward our seats at the front. Elio is waiting at the back of the church with his nonna and the rest of the bridal party. Isa isn’t here yet, but according to her mother, she’s en route with her father. I nod at myconsigliereand underboss as we pass by them. Both are here with their wives to show respect to one of the DiPietro capos.
I only promoted Rafaelo a few months before Elio was born, at my father’s request. Papa said it was the right thing to do, even though he doesn’t much like the Da Rosa patriarch. Isa’s father was one of our longest-serving seniorsoldatoat the time, so it was probably the right call. He should be retiring in a few years, and hopefully leaving it to his sons to follow in his footsteps.
“Everyone is staring,” Sloane whispers, clinging more tightly to my arm.
“It’s hard not to. You look incredible today, Sloane.”
“Thank you.” She smiles at me, and the expression is similar to one of the photos where we’re gazing at one another like we only exist for each other. I couldn’t stop sneaking looks at it on the car ride here. A lot of Elio’s photos are blurry or cropped, but he took a couple of incredible pics. I should probably delete them, but I know I won’t.
“This is us,” I say, stopping at the third pew where my parents are already seated. I make quick introductions. “This is my papa, Josef, and my mama, Beatrice. This is Sloane.”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” my mother says, nudging my father to move down and make room. “Elio didn’t stop talking about you yesterday. You have made quite the impression on my littlenipote.”
“The feeling is completely mutual.” Sloane slides onto the bench beside my mother. “He already has me wrapped around his little finger.”
“I’ll be right back,” I say, trusting Sloane with my parents. I should probably take her with me to greet the groom and his groomsmen, but I promised to protect her today, and I intend to keep my word. The last thing she needs is a bunch of older men perving on her.
Nodding at my parents, I stride to the front row and thrust out my hand, shaking the much older groom’s hand. “Congratulations, Carmine. I hope you and Isotta will be very happy together.” His hair has more gray than the last time I saw him, and his black jacket is straining to contain his considerable girth. Frustration wells inside me. What father would force his daughter to marry a man so much older than her? I hate this still happens in our world. You will never convince me it’s not wrong. I understand when it happens to forge alliances, but in a scenario like this, it doesn’t make sense.
“Thank you, Don DiPietro. You honor us by being here today. Your mama and papa too.”
