“I wanted to offer my congratulations on your nuptials, Giulio,” he says. “I don’t believe I’ve had the chance to meet your bride.”
Giulio is quiet for longer than is polite and for a moment, I think he’s not going to introduce me. Then, with strained courtesy in his tone, he nods to me. “Daisy, this is Constantin.”
“Um… hello?” I offer Constantin a small smile, unsure of how I should be reacting to the obvious tension between the two of them. If the feeling was a physical wall, I doubt I’d be able to cut it with anything less than a chain saw.
Constantin leans down and captures my free hand without warning, making me jolt as he lifts my palm and presses his mouth to my knuckles. “It is a pleasure to meet the new Mrs. La Rosa,” he murmurs. The edges of his mustache tickle my skin, but instead of being a sweet and enchanting thing, it leaves me feeling like I want to scratch and clean the place where he’s left his mark.
When he releases my hand, I discreetly fold it behind me and into one of the poofy sides of my dress, wiping the back of it on the fabric.
“I’m glad that you could be here, Constantin,” Giulio says stiffly. “I’m sure Don Luciani will be pleased to know that one of his oldest captains was here to witness me begin the family he wished for.”
Constantin’s smile turns vicious, the edges of his lips widening to show more teeth. I swallow reflexively. “It was such a shame he couldn’t make it. I would think our Don would want to see his adoptive son rise from a bachelor to a married man.”
Adoptive? My eyes lift, but before I can truly focus on the revelation that maybe Giulio and I have more in common than I originally thought, he’s replying to Constantin with swift, cold words.
“His brother was ill, as you well know.”
The corner of Constantin’s mouth tenses, and a muscle below his left eye twitches. Giulio presses against me, his muscled form warm. It invites me to sink into him, to let him hold me in a way that I shouldn’t want a near stranger to—even if he is technically now my husband.
“Yes, of course,” Constantin replies. “It was merely a comment.”
“An inappropriate and insulting one,” Giulio snaps. “But since I’m in a hurry to get my bride to our home, I shall let it go today. I hope you have a good night, Constantin. Enjoy the festivities.”
Constantin doesn’t respond, and Giulio doesn’t wait for him to, instead ushering me past the older, mustached man toward a set of glass doors that lead outside through the private venue’s lobby.
The moment we step out onto the busy street—even though it’s well after dark—the heat of summer’s air slaps me in the face. I sag into Giulio’s side, exhaustion clinging to my every limb, but as he lifts a cell phone to his ear, barking quick and succinct orders for a car to be brought around, I rouse myself a bit more and step away from the warmth of him with a shake of my head. Immediately, my insides cramp with longing. A quick roll against a man as fine as Giulio would definitely relax me. Too bad.
“Well, um… thanks, I guess, for not killing me,” I say, scratching my side again. “I’ll—” I pause and glance down at the dress. “I’ll get this cleaned and send it back to you if you want to try and get your money back.”
Giulio frowns at me. “What are you talking about?” he demands, irritation in his baritone.
“The dress.” I gesture down. “You bought it, so it’s yours. I was just borrowing it for the ceremony.”
Frost-coated eyes continue to stare at me. I shuffle awkwardly on the sidewalk, stepping out of the way as a man in a long suit coat with a phone glued to his ear stomps past. “I’ve got to go get my purse and head home,” I say.
“We are going home,” Giulio replies.
I shake my head. “I don’t have my keys,” I say. “They’re in my purse.” Along with my wallet, both of which are in the locker of the employees’ section of the venue.
Giulio sighs as a black town car pulls out of the throng of cars that are driving by, their noses and bumpers nearly touching as the drivers speed along, honking at anyone who dares go too slow. He reaches over and opens the back door.
Sure that this is where we part ways, I take a step back toward the venue as he bends, ducking his head into the interior of the car. Instead of getting into the vehicle, though, Giulio comes back up a moment later with a long strap attached to a familiar-looking square of denim material.
“My purse!” I jolt forward, hands coming up and reaching out for the object.
Giulio pulls it back at the last second. “Get into the car, Daisy,” he orders, holding it just out of reach.
“Are you holding my purse hostage?” I gape at him. “That’s stealing.”
He arches a brow, and the ridiculousness of my words echoes between us. Yeah, I guess if he doesn’t mind covering up the murder of his first bride, stealing someone’s purse would be child’s play.
“I mean, what I meant to say is—”
“Get in the car,” Giulio says on a huff of breath, “and I’ll give you your purse.”
I eye the handsewn bag with the strap made of roped leather braiding swinging from two of his fingers with contemplation. “I was taught not to get into cars with strangers.”
“Are you serious?” Giulio lowers his arm, and this time,instead of urging me into the car with his words, he takes the three steps toward me, bends over, and casually lifts me over his shoulder—big skirts and all.
