Meet the characters:
He holds out his hand, and I place mine in his. “We haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Raffaele Di Morte, but my friends call me Rafe.” His rough, calloused hand engulfs my much smaller one. His darker, more olive complexion contrasts against my paler skin, so very opposite from mine. Yet, he’s being gentle.
“Hello, Mr. Di Morte. I’m Evangeline Lanzia.” Then quickly I add, “But everyone calls me Angie.”
“Now, why would anyone want to shorten a beautiful name like Evangeline? I quite like it. I hope you don’t mind that I call you by your proper name. It very much suits you.” His lips lift into a smile, and that only makes him more attractive.
Get a hold of yourself, I tell myself. You’ve seen lots of handsome men before. The last thing I need to do is make a fool of myself.
“Tell me about yourself,” he says.
“I’m not very interesting. I finished school a year ago and have been working in a real estate office,” I say.
“Do you enjoy it?” he asks.
Normally, I would say yes, but instead, I tell him the truth. “Not at all. I want to work in a nonprofit geared toward helping children with special needs, but those positions are few and far between around here.”
“You like children?”
“They’re amazing. Little people see life so differently. They remind me of the awe we lose as we grow up. They live free—until the rest of the world catches up to them, that is,” I say sadly.
“Has the world caught up to you, then, tesoro?” He leans forward in his chair, and when his fingers move to lift my chin, our eyes meet.
“Some days, it feels that way.” I lick my lips and want to jerk away from his touch, hoping he doesn’t see how he’s affecting me, but he holds me steady.
“Are you up for an adventure?” he asks mischievously.
“I’m not sure that’s an option,” I whisper. He releases me, and instead of relief, I feel bereft. Just then, the others return, and Aris helps me up. We quickly say our goodbyes, and Aris takes me home. He’s very quiet. I like the quiet. I know Aris can get this way when he’s got work on the brain. But the only thing I can think of right now is the sexy, gray-eyed man whose touch I can still feel.
Feel the passion:
When it’s time for our vows, a quiet yet firm “I do” comes from my bride. I slip the white gold band etched with diamonds on her finger. She hasn’t seen the engraving on the inside of the band. It’s our oath to our wives, “Tu sei il mio ultimo desiderio” which means “You are my ultimate desire.” It’s a romantic notion that at one time held more meaning in our traditions. There was a time when a man would fight for the woman he wanted and climb mountains to get her. Today, women are seen as commodities.
I cannot argue the fact that I saw what I wanted and found a way to get it. But Evangeline is a desire, and whether the fascination lasts a day, a week, a month, or years, my vow means that she’s mine forever.
“You may kiss your bride,” the priest says. Evangeline lifts her chin to meet my eyes. I cup her cheek with my palm and touch my lips to hers. So soft and full. I want to haul her into my arms and kiss her properly, but not like this, on display for all to see. When I finally kiss her like I want, I don’t want an audience. Although, with this first taste of heaven, I’m going to have a hard time keeping my hands off her.
The roar of applause breaks us apart. Followed by what sounds like gunfire outside the church. Ivo jumps in front of me to protect his capo. Nero and Luciano are on their feet.
“Through here,” Nero shouts to me, pointing to the alcove where the priests have their rooms. Emiliano guides the women and children into the space. I give the order for our women to follow.
“Protect Evangeline,” I command to Mauro, one of my most trusted soldiers. Evangeline looks around wildly for her family. Aris is already running to the front of the church. Mauro takes Evangeline’s hand and drags her to safety.
Leaves you wanting more:
I want to be alone with my wife, and I’ve waited long enough to claim her body and consummate this marriage.
“I think it’s time to leave. It’s been a very eventful day,” I say, breaking into their conversation.
“She hasn’t thrown her bouquet,” Josephine, Alessio’s wife, interrupts. “All the women will feel cheated if they don’t get a chance to catch it.”
“Silly traditions,” Alessio blurts, rolling his eyes.
“Silly or not, it has meaning,” she insists.
“And the garter. Don’t forget the garter toss,” Sebastian adds. He’s Reno’s younger brother, and he and his twin Dante are Reno’s consiglieri. Sebastian is married to Olivia. They are one of the couples that married between families, Nostra Casa meets La Famiglia. Sebastian doesn’t make a pretense of not caring for his wife. Dangerous, if you ask me. The enemy preys on your weakness, and Olivia would be considered his. The Russians tried this tactic and failed.
Reno chuckles. “Gotta go by the book on this one. It makes the girls ooh and ahh at the prospect of being next to get married.”
“And the garter?” I ask.
“That one’s for you,” he replies with a wink. I see what he means. It will be the first time I run my hand over Evangeline’s leg and up her thigh, feeling her soft, silky flesh.
Suddenly, tradition doesn’t seem so daunting. I catch the emcee’s attention and indicate that it’s time to move this along. First, he sets a chair in the center of the dance floor and asks Evangeline to take her place. Her hands are trembling, and she lowers her eyes to avoid the stares.
I take a knee, still at eye level.
“Evangeline, look at me. Keep your eyes on me,” I command. She lifts her gaze to me. “It’s just you and me. No one else matters.”
I slide my hand under her dress, caressing her ankle. I feel her shiver under my touch. She bites her lower lip. She needs to get used to my touch, because I plan on having my hands on her a lot. I guide my fingers upward until I encounter the garter at her knee. My modest little wife placed it there with the thought that I wouldn’t let my hand roam any farther. She’s going to find out just how wrong she is.
I follow the edge of the garter, slipping my finger beneath it as if I’m going to slip it downward and end this game, but I’m enjoying myself far too much. I never thought something as innocent as removing a garter could be so scintillating. When I glide my hand away and up, Evangeline gasps quietly, aware of those standing around. Her gaze moves to the gathered crowd.
“Eyes on me, tesoro,” I murmur, allowing my fingers to trace circles on her inner thigh.
“Rafe,” she pleads.
“All right, cara. We’ll continue this in private.” I slowly take off the delicate blue lace garter and get to my feet, then take Evangeline by the hands and brush my lips over hers. “That was delightful. I look forward to more,” I whisper in her ear.
