* * *

The library on the first floor of Papa Giuseppe’s Pasticcerie castle in Erice was lined with bookcases, and the glow from the fire smoldered in the hearth. I smoothed my dress down my hips, adjusted my bodice, and checked my reflection in the full-length mirror.

My cream-colored silk wedding gown was simple with three-quarter length sleeves, a boat neck and a plunging back. It had a full skirt and a fitted bodice with clusters of seeded pearls embedded in delicate floral patterns.

Something old: Aiden’s mother’s engagement ring sparkled in the firelight. It was a one- and-a half-carat emerald cut diamond in a platinum setting with yellow diamond baguettes. It made me smile every time I looked at it.

Something new: Yellow diamond drop earrings that Uncle Vincent had given me as a wedding present along with an apology for all his meddling in my life.

Something borrowed: Florentina’s pearls circled my neck.

Something blue: Papa Giuseppe had given me one of the silken buds from the blue ribbon he won for his almond biscotti cookies at the Agrigento Almond Blossom Festival. I wore it on a satin ribbon tied around my wrist.

“You’re a beautiful bride,” Nolan said, fussing with the train of my dress.

“You’re tearing up Nolan,” Florentina said. She was wearing a purple vintage lace dress with a fitted bodice, V-neck, three-quarter length sleeves and a full skirt that swished with every step she took. “Don’t cry or you’re going to ruin your makeup.”

“I’m not wearing makeup,” Nolan said. “Okay, fine. Just a pinch of color on my cheeks and a swipe of Adam Lambert eye liner because that shit’s the bomb and makes my eyes pop.”

“Let’s go,” I said. “Showtime.”

“You know this is an Accardi event, right?” Florentina asked.

“Feelings hurt, disaster imminent, and a high probability of bloodshed—right? Am I forgetting something?” I asked.

“A feud is averted. A new fight might be picked,” Florentina said.

“God, I love you people,” Nolan said. “Please adopt me, pronto.”

“I’ve always wanted a son,” Florentina said.

“Mama,” Nolan said.

We made our way through a small wooden door leading from the library outside to a semi-private alcove with views of the backyard terrace. People mingling on the patio couldn’t see me tucked away here but I could see almost everything.

It was my wedding day and I took a moment just to breathe it all in. Stars were already twinkling in the night sky. I could see the lights from Trapani and smelled a hint of salt in the crisp Mediterranean air.

Garlands of white roses mixed with sprigs of rosemary and entwined with Italian lights were wrapped around the pergola’s bare vines. Heat lamps positioned around the patio. White folding chairs were lined up in rows on either side of the pergola, creating an aisle.

Rosalia was standing among the guests, wearing a faux fur pastel wrap over her massively pregnant belly. She rubbed her baby bump as Flavio stared at her as if she was the first person to ever get pregnant.

And there was Aiden, dressed in a crisp black suit and a white shirt with cufflinks. His black hair was immaculate and he had a white rose buttoniere on his lapel. He was so hot.

Sydney was his best lady. She was rocking an elegant poppy-colored silk, tea-length dress with matching low-heeled pumps.

Nora was wearing a similar outfit and seated in the front row on the groom’s side with White Glove Matchmaking Agency employees, including my former matchmaker Charlotte. Charlotte was now engaged to Joe Delacroix of the Delacroix Hotel fortune.

It was a pretty crowd. It was a happy crowd. It was my crowd.

I stepped out from the privacy of the alcove.

Aiden spotted me and smiled.

I smiled back.

“Gorgeous,” he mouthed.

“Hot,” I mouthed back.

“You two need to get married, pronto,” Nolan said. “The hormones are flying through the air so fast and furious they could take someone’s eye out.”

“Good idea,” I said. “Florentina—you’re my maid of honor—walk down the aisle now.”

“Oh, God, I’ve never done this before. What if I screw it up?”

“No one will know.”

She made her way down the aisle. Papa Giuseppe checking her out the whole way. Unfortunately, Flavio’s great uncle was also eyeing her. “Belissima,” he said.

“Mine,” Giuseppe said.

“Oh, God, the drama,” Nolan said. “Delicious!”

“Grab a drink and take a seat, buddy,” I said. “There’s plenty of drama to go around.”

I walked down the short aisle and stood next to my gorgeous Aiden Black. I smiled up at him.

Aiden promised in front of the priest to have and to hold me in good times and in bad, for better or for worse. Of course, someone on my side of the family made a crack about that.

The priest pronounced us man and wife. Aiden kissed me.

Tenderly.

Sweetly.

Passionately.

“Best decision I ever made, Mrs. Violet Accardi-Black—wife,” he said.

“What was that?”

“Pretending I was engaged to you at the White Glove Holiday party a year ago.”

I smiled and kissed him back. “Best decision I ever made, Mr. Aiden Black—husband.”

“What’s that?”

“Going along with your crazy plan.”