Bianca
Icooked a huge pot of red sauce and made homemade ravioli, thankful for the distraction as Michael worked. Anticipation hummed in my veins at the thought of consummating my marriage. As I helped Leticia and Carmen clean the kitchen, I wrapped my head around the still-unbelievable words:I was married to Michael Caruso.
“Are you talking to yourself, dear?” Carmen asked, sidling up behind me and patting my shoulder.
“I guess so,” I replied, realizing I’d said the words aloud. “Did you meet Michael at some point over the years? I’m quite confused about your familiarity with him.”
Carmen grinned. “I have been sworn to secrecy, querida, but I’ll tell you that he was always very watchful of you. Veryprotective. Even if you didn’t know, he did his best to take care of you.”
Confusion furrowed my brow. “How? I don’t understand—”
“There is too much to tell, and I gave my word,” she said, shaking her head. “But I’ll tell you that Michael is the one who always sent the flowers you love.”
My features contorted with shocked surprise. Each year, on Alexis’s birthday, I always received a gorgeous bouquet of Italian bellflowers. They were native to Italy, and I always assumed one of Victor’s men’s wives sent them to celebrate Alexis.
But Alexis had also been born on the exact date of the night I met Michael on the dock all those years ago. Had he sent theflowers to me each year as a symbol that he...remembered?That he still cared?
“Don’t scowl like that, dear,” Carmen said, shaking her finger. “It gives you wrinkles, and we need you to look pretty for your husband.”
Michael strode into the kitchen and glanced around. “Is the pasta ready?”
“Yes,” I said, nervously hoping he’d like my cooking. “Did you get all your calls made?”
“For today, yes. I put the word out that we’re married, and I expect the news will spread rapidly.”
The gravity of the decisions I’d made over the past few hours slammed into me like a freight train, and I gnawed my lip, realizing that I was truly promised to Michael.Forever. My life had drastically changed in less than twenty-four hours...
“Hey,” he said, walking toward me and cupping my cheek. “It’s our wedding night, and I hope you’re not already regretting it. I’d like to enjoy some of your pasta, stella. Your worries will still be there tomorrow. For now, come sit with me.”
Assured by his calm confidence, I followed him to the dining room. We sat down for our first official dinner as husband and wife as nerves pulsed steadily throughout my body. Michael opened a bottle of red wine, and we made small talk as we enjoyed our first meal together.
Afterward, Leticia and Carmen cleared the plates, and Michael refilled my glass.
“Come. I want to show you something.”
He led me through the large mansion to a greenhouse attached to the home. We trailed through the different flowers and herbs as surprise swished through me.
“I can’t believe you have a greenhouse.”
He smiled as we stood before one of the rows of fresh herbs. “After I spent the summer with my grandmother in Italy, I was spoiled and would only eat fresh herbs and spices.”
“Ah, yes, I remember,” I said, sipping my wine. “You got to go to college and travel abroad while I got married and had a baby. Doesn’t seem quite fair, although Alexis was worth it.”
His expression turned curious. “Did you end up going to college?”
I flashed a wry smile. “You know I didn’t. Mafia wives don’t get degrees.”
Michael’s smile deepened. “Well, my mafia wife does. I want you to get your degree, Bianca, however you wish. Although it’s probably best if you start online. In-person classes will require too much protection, and I need to focus all of my efforts on cleaning up Victor’s messes.”
My eyebrows lifted. “You want me to...go to college?”
“Yes,” he said, lifting a shoulder as if it were normal for a mafia husband to tell his forty-two-year-old wife to get a degree. “If it makes you happy, I want it for you.”
I blinked rapidly. My life had been a whirlwind of recent betrayals, and although I inherently felt I could trust Michael, I was wary. After sipping the last of my wine, I twirled the glass in my hands as I studied him. “I see the Italian bellflowers over there. Carmen says that you sent them to me each year on Alexis’s birthday.”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes full of mysteries I longed to decode. “And the anniversary of the night we met. The night I promised you something that I failed to deliver. Until now.”
Confusion marred my features, warring with disbelief. Had he truly thought of me during all those long, lonely years? It made no sense to my logical brain.
