“Oh. Right.”
I give him my back, and a moment later, the cold gems land on my upper chest. Rafaele’s fingertips brush against my nape as he secures the latch.
“There,” he murmurs. Big hands wrap around my shoulders, spilling heat over my skin.
He steers me to stand in front of a mirror before letting his hands drop away, and some illogical part of me misses the warmth.
Relax. It’s just because it’s cold as fuck down here.
I look at my reflection and a gasp falls out of my mouth. The necklace is stunning and…outrageous. Forget Signora Caruso—this is a piece that could be worn by actual royalty. It’s definitely going to make a statement tomorrow.
The fact that Rafaele is on board with this… I meet his gaze in the mirror. Maybe it’s a statement he needs to make to his family too. It’s clear they’re pissed about this marriage, about me being brought into the Messero fold. Is this a way for him to say “fuck you” to all of them for questioning his judgment?
Probably. I guess I’m helping his cause but given the treatment I’ve received tonight from his relatives, I’m happy to do it.
I walk back to where the necklace was and point at the matching earrings. “Those too.”
He takes them out and hands them to me.
“And the bracelets,” I say as I put the earrings into my ears. When I’m done, Rafaele slides the bangles onto my wrists, three on each.
This is a lot, but that butterfly brooch…so dang pretty. It really would look nice pinned in my hair. Would I be pushing it if I asked for that one too?
I shoot Rafaele a cautious glance. “And this one.”
Mild amusement passes over his features. “Why not just ask for the whole shelf?”
I scoff. “Are you crazy? I’m going for subtle.”
His lips twitch. He reaches inside the glass case and gets the brooch. “Where is this one going to go?”
“My hair. I’ll put it there tomorrow.” I slide the brooch into the small matching purse that came with the dress.
His gaze brushes over the bun on my head, and his lips tighten like he’s displeased. “Wear it down.”
“Sure, whatever,” I mutter as I move back to the mirror. I want to see how I look now that I’ve got everything on.
Oh my God. A laugh bubbles out of me. I’m practically a disco ball with how much light I’m reflecting and the effect is only going to be amplified with all the natural light in the church. “It’s perfect.”
Rafaele comes up behind me, stopping close enough for me to feel his presence against my back. My skin tingles with awareness that narrows to a point when he raises his hand and lightly presses a knuckle to my nape. My breath hitches. He drags his knuckle down the length of my spine and I have to consciously suppress a shiver. I swallow, forgetting about the jewels.
Forgetting about everything as I register how he’s looking at me.
There’s a dark possessiveness in his gaze that chills me all the way through to the bone.
His eyes rise to meet mine in the mirror.
“I agree,” he says in a low voice. “Perfect.”
And that’s when the spell lifts, and I remember exactly what I am to him. A thing to own, just like these jewels. A butterfly he’s got locked in a glass cage.
And tomorrow, he’ll break my wings.
CHAPTER 8
CLEO
The next day, I arrive at the church in my sister’s wedding dress.
Gemma has impeccable taste, so the ivory gown is perfection. It’s strapless with a built-in corset and an A-line skirt with a train. No embroidery, no complicated details. Just minimalist and classic and a perfect complement to the over-the-top diamonds that hang around my neck and sparkle on my wrists and ears.
When I climb out of the limo with the help of the bodyguards, my brother is smoking a cigarette as he waits for me at the bottom of the church steps.
I frown. I don’t remember Vince being a smoker. The stress of having his three sisters pissed at him must be getting to him.
I haven’t forgiven him for the part he played in brokering this entire deal with Rafaele. Because Vince didn’t want to become Papà’s successor, they had the bright idea of offering the position to Rafaele. Rafaele wouldn’t have agreed to get Papà out of jail for anything less than that. But a successor can’t be just some outsider, which is why Rafaele has to marry into our family.
I stomp toward Vince, grateful that I’m wearing flats beneath the dress instead of heels. The skirt was tailored for Gemma, so it would be too short on me if I added a few inches of height.
Vince watches me approach and takes another puff of his cig.
Nervous?
I stop in front of him and knock the cigarette out of his hand. It falls to the ground, the red cherry flashing against the concrete before it turns to ash.
“I’m not doing this so that you can die from lung cancer.”
His lips twitch, even as something pained flashes in his eyes. “Never change, Cleo.”
Vince is on my shit list at the moment, but he’s not all bad like Papà. Until this whole thing with Rafaele, I saw my brother as a kindred spirit. He hated living at home, and he found a way out, something I admire about him.
Of course, it was far easier for him to convince Papà to let him work for the family from abroad because he’s a man. That opportunity would have never been offered to me.
He scans me. “Are you all right?”
“What do you think? Feels like I’m walking to my funeral.”
He frowns. “I wish it didn’t have to come to this.”
“Whatever. Can you tell me if Gem made it to Ras? I’ve been asking everybody, and no one’s been able to give me an answer.”
“She did.”
I close my eyes and let out a relieved breath. Thank fuck. “How?”
“Ras was in New York when the engagement was called off. She rang Vale and managed to find him quickly. She wanted to be here but…” He glances inside the church. “You know how it is.”
Don’t I ever. Will Rafaele let me see my sister again? I don’t imagine it will be anytime soon.
I drag my palm over the satin fabric of Gemma’s dress. The important thing is that she’s safe and her baby is safe. We’ll figure out the rest later.
The music inside the cathedral changes.
“I think that’s our cue,” Vince says.
I blink at him, my thoughts still on Gemma. Then it dawns on me what he means. It’s time for us to walk down the aisle. Suddenly, my lungs seize. This is it. My face plummets, and Vince pales.
“I know there’s no excuse for what I’ve done,” he says, his voice harsh. “I was… Fuck, I don’t know what I was thinking. There are things you don’t know about my life in Switzerland. I’ll explain it all to you one day if you’ll let me.”
The remorse in his eyes seems genuine, but I’m not like Gemma. I don’t forgive easily. Still, he’s my brother, and even though he’s an ass, I love him.