Italy's Most Scandalous Virgin - Carol Marinelli Page 0,65

the love of Rafael’s life.

Roberto had cried when Dante had told him that the place was his. Everyone knew the house and grounds would be cared for and tended. Of course, she and Dante would return and visit, for they were family really.

But now, for the second time, though for the right reasons, Mia was about to become Signora Romano.

She wore the palest green velvet, with a soft tulle overlay, and her hair was in loose curls. On her head there was a small crown of Romano vine leaves and her posy was of wild, freshly cut poppies from the land they loved so.

Her sandals were flat and gold and she felt beautiful and confident and very, very ready to marry the man she loved as she walked down the grand stairs.

‘Oh, Mia.’ Michael sat in his chair, elegant in his wedding suit, and so proud of his sister. ‘You look stunning.’

‘Thank you.’ She smiled at her brother, who had been through so much and had finally come to a place of peace with his situation, helped by the gorgeous Gemma, who loved him so very much.

A helicopter was hovering overhead, no doubt to get a shot of the wedding, and Mia, finally, could not care less.

Instead, Mia walked towards Dante with her brother by her side and with her head held high, to the smiles of family and friends.

Angela was there, smiling proudly, and Luigi with his wife.

Stefano was the best man and so Eloa, who would be a bride herself in a couple of weeks, stood with Ariana, who was both smiling and crying on this emotional day.

There were no doubt a few wide eyes amongst the guests. And perhaps there were again whispers behind manicured hands. Dante had specifically said, after all, that nothing had taken place between them before Rafael died, yet the bride was clearly in the family way!

Mia could almost hear the clacking of rosary beads as they counted it to be less than four months since the funeral!

Roberto was there, of course, looking handsome, polished, and smiling at the bride as he dabbed at his eyes.

Then Dante turned to see his bride and the smile on his face was slow, stunned, delighted, and it made everything all right. Not a soul present could doubt that they were about to witness the marriage of two people who were deeply in love, for as he stepped forward towards her, everyone laughed when Stefano put a hand on Dante’s arm and told him to wait, that she would be by his side soon.

‘You look beautiful,’ Dante said. He took her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers and they shared a smile.

‘So do you,’ Mia said, as she looked at her very handsome groom. He wore a stunning grey morning suit with a silver-grey waistcoat, and he looked so elegant and so clean shaven she wanted to reach out to stroke his cheek.

She resisted, but the bride was blushing fiercely as they faced each other and made the vows that would bind them for life.

They were in English because Dante wanted her to be sure she understood every word.

‘I, Dante Rafael, take you, Mia Jane...’ And he put his hand to her cheek as he gave her his promise to be faithful always, in joy and pain, in health and in sickness, and then his voice became husky as he gazed into her eyes and vowed that he would love and honour her for the rest of his life.

Mia started to cry, then made her vows to Dante in English. ‘I, Mia Jane, take you, Dante Rafael...’ They were similar vows to his, except she ended them with, ‘To love and to cherish, all the days of my life.’

And then it was time for Dante to kiss his bride, and Mia closed her eyes to the bliss of his lips, the smoothness of his cheek, and the fragrance of pure Dante.

It was a gorgeous wedding and Dante, of course, made a wonderful speech, with one more surprise to come.

Actually, two more surprises to come, for there was a reason that Mia was rather big for her dates.

‘My wife and I are thrilled to share the news with family and friends, that we found out, last week, that Mia is having twins.’

Yes, their forbidden night had come with two delightful consequences and there were congratulations, dancing and celebrations all around, though for a little while the happy couple slipped away for some private time together.

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ Dante checked.

‘Very,’ Mia said, and in the sunset they walked hand in hand towards the lake, then stood beneath the holm oaks.

They saw they weren’t the first to visit. There were beautiful orchids that had been lovingly placed there this wedding morning by Roberto, and beside them Mia placed her gorgeous bouquet of poppies on dear Rafael’s grave.

There was nothing to fear, Mia knew now. In fact, it felt as if he was smiling down on them.

With Dante by her side, she was no longer scared.

Coming next month

CONFESSIONS OF AN ITALIAN MARRIAGE

Dani Collins

“Get in,” Giovanni said.

The sight of him struck like a gong, leaving her quivering. He had a shaggy black beard and dark glasses, and his black hoodie was pulled up to hide all but his familiar cheekbones, but his legs stopped above the knees and she recognized the tense line of his mouth.

Alive. Her heart soared so high, it should have shattered the sky.

At the same time, a thousand furies invaded her like a swarm of killer bees. There was no triumph in learning she was right. There was only a crippling heartbreak that he had abandoned her. If he’d been truly dead, she would have been angry, but she wouldn’t have blamed him.

This, though? He had put her through horrifying hours of actually believing he was gone. She had endured his gut-wrenching funeral, convinced it was a sham. Then, two short weeks later, she’d suffered another unbearable loss that would never heal.

He’d forced her to go through all of that alone.

For every minute that had passed since that awful day, she had longed for him to reveal himself, but now her feet only carried her forward so she could bitterly hiss, “Go to hell.”

“Where do you think I’ve been?” he growled.

“I’m calling the police!” Teresina yelled from deep in the alley. Two of Teresina’s employees were recording everything on their phones.

A man in a suit was running toward her. She instinctively moved closer to Giovanni, heart jamming with fear.

Giovanni’s hard arm looped around her and he dragged her into the back of the car. He clutched the door for leverage, but his strength was as annoyingly effortless as always.

She didn’t fight him. In fact, once he grabbed her out of her stasis, she helped, kicking against the edge of the door to thrust herself inside, desperate for whatever sanctuary he offered.

They wound up in a heap on the back seat while the man who was chasing her came up to the open door and reached for her leg.

She screamed and kicked at him with her sharp heels. He dodged her shoes and threw the yards of silk in after her, then slammed the door before he leaped into the passenger seat in front of Giovanni.

“Go,” Giovanni said to the driver, and he pushed himself upright.

As the SUV sped into traffic, Freja rocked deeper into the seat, stunned to her toes.

CONFESSIONS OF AN ITALIAN MARRIAGE

Dani Collins

Available next month

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