“That’s right, Angel.”
I’m struck by the love emanating from Adriano toward his family, and his family toward him.
I believe my parents love me, but not like this. Not with intensity and awe.
“I hope it’s okay that we brought her,” Eva says. “She still has difficulty being without one of us.”
I wonder what that’s about? Is it normal or did something happen? “Of course. I’m probably closer to her age than his, anyway.” I nod toward Alessandro, who looks at me in horror.
Adriano snickers. “Cradle robber.”
“What’s a cradle robber?” Mirabella asks.
“It’s your uncle Alessandro.”
Alessandro doesn’t say anything, but I swear inside, he’s telling his brother to fuck off.
The conversation flows easily as I watch Adriano, Eva, and Mirabella interact.
The casual touches, the private smiles, the way they finish each other's sentences.
This isn't a cold, dutiful marriage.
It’s a love match.
"You'll meet Luca and Katerina at the wedding," Alessandro says. "They live in Chicago, as do my sister and her husband."
"Valentina will talk your ear off," Adriano adds with affection.
"I'm looking forward to meeting them all," I say, and I genuinely mean it. I hate the idea of being sold off like chattel, but the idea of being part of a family that radiates genuine love and affection appeals to me.
Eva smiles at me warmly. "Family means everything to the Dantes. Once you're one of us, you're one of us forever."
I glance at Alessandro, finding him watching me with an unreadable expression.
"That sounds... nice," I admit. "Different from what I'm used to."
As the evening continues, I can't stop thinking about Adriano and Eva, how real their love seems.
For the first time since my father announced my engagement, I allow myself to wonder if perhaps my marriage might become more than just a business arrangement, after all.
The reception stretches on, a blur of fake smiles and shallow conversation.
Alessandro and I separate to mingle.
Every few minutes, I feel his gaze on me across the room.
When I glance back, his expression seems annoyed, almost irritated, as if I've done something wrong.
I must have imagined that moment of connection between us.
The photography session, the warmth in his eyes.
It was just a performance.
Or perhaps he doesn’t see me as becoming a part of the family as Eva has.
"You're making quite the impression," my father murmurs as he passes, nodding toward a circle of elderly men watching me. "Keep it up."
