And now her sob was echoed by her movements, as she wordlessly closed the small distance between them and lifted her arms around his neck, brushing her body to his. “Please tell me this is a yes,” he groaned, dropping his head so their brows met.
“It’s asi, certo,” she smiled, and he groaned as he took her mouth and kissed her so long, and so hard, that she felt quite weak afterwards. Weak, and complete, and ready for the rest of their lives to start—together, as they were meant to be.
* * *
Two years,to the day, after their Vegas wedding, they stood by the pool at Luca’s spectacular villa, beneath an arch exploding with pink bougainvillea flowers, and said their vows. They spoke in Italian, in which Ally was now fluent, watched on by a small group of their closest family and friends.
Valentino was in the front row, that same shrewd, watchful expression in his eyes. But Ally didn’t fail to notice the way they were suspiciously moist, and he reached into his pocket more than once for a handkerchief to dab at their corners. Dante and Paolo were there, so like Luca that she laughed whenever she imagined them living as enemies.
Valentino had never admitted fault, as to his role in their estrangement. Ally had gathered that the old man genuinely felt the competition he’d thrust them into, all their lives, had given them spines of steel. And perhaps he was right. But she knew that the lesson she and Luca had learned—that it was better to depend upon a person than not—was far more apt.
THE END
