I looked at him and kept laughing.“You are.”I rolled my eyes.
When we were nearly at the limo, a man in a black suit exited the driver's seat.Because—of course he did.He walked around the back door and opened it.“Benvenuto, signor Sovrano.” He looked at me and said, “Signora Sovrano.”
I didn't know a lick of Italian, but I knew enough to gather he'd just called me Mrs.Sovrano.
Holy.
Crap.
“Grazie,” Stefan responded as the man opened the door for us.I climbed in first and moved down the seat to make room for Stefan.He sat beside me—and once again took it upon himself to buckle me in.
“I can do that myself.”
Stefan didn't respond.He just snapped his own seat belt and grabbed his phone out.After he turned it on, he tapped the screen a few times.Carlo's name popped up.“Just landed,” Stefan said before Carlo could say anything, “any news?”
Carlo’svoice floated out of the phone even though he wasn't on speaker.“There is—” He paused for a moment.“But nothing worth interrupting your honeymoon over.Enjoy yourself.You only get one honeymoon.”
Stefan's lips spread into a wide smile.“Will do.I'll talk to you later.”
Before Stefan had a chance to end the call, I grabbed Stefan's hand and tilted my head to the phone.“Wait!Carlo?Are you still there?”
A second later he let out an amused, “I am, Francesca.How is your honeymoon going so far?”Gosh.This man's voice alone could give me an orgasm.I swear.His deep, throaty tone was intoxicating.
“Ah,” I bit my lip.“It's going.”
He laughed in my ear.
“Anyway, can you thank Giselle again for letting me wear her dress?”And then I realized something that gave me a huge sinking feeling.“Oh, no.”I looked at Stefan.“Where did her dress go?The last I saw it was on the bedroom floor.”
Carlo let out a much louder laugh this time.And I felt a hot blush rise up to my cheeks.
“I took care of it while you were sleeping last night.It’s all packed up safely,” Stefan said.
“Phew.”Then into the phone I said, “Ask Giselle if we should take it to a dry cleaner.I’m sure we’ll pass one on the way to Stefan’s place.”
Carlo laughed again.“I'll get her to give you a call, Francesca,” he said, still laughing.“Don't worry about it.”
I shook my head even though he couldn't see me.“I don't have a phone.”
“I'm sure your new husband will spring for one.Until then,” he cleared his throat, “she can call you on your husband's phone.”His constant use of the word “husband,” felt a whole lot strange.But—whatever.
“Well, is she there now?I should ask her what I should tell the dry cleaner.”
He laughed.
Much louder this time.
“What's so funny?”I asked, feeling more than annoyed.
He answered immediately, “You, Francesca.”Carlo continued laughing.“You are.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes at him, wishing he could see.“Whatever.She must've spent a billion hours making that dress.I don't want to mess it up.Is she close by?Can you go ask her?”
There was a short silence.“Yeah, hang on.I'll see if I can find her.”I heard the sound of his footsteps through the phone.
A door opened, and then more footsteps followed.The sound of babies crying grew louder and louder.Another door opened, and then a wailing screeched through the phone.It was so loud I held the phone away from my ear.“Where have you been hiding?”Giselle's accusatory voice shot over the crying.“Can't you see I need help here?”
Uh, oh.Carlo was in big trouble.
