Sofia
Present
“Congratulations!” I pull Grace, my brother’s fiancée, in for a hug. “I’m so happy for you two!”
My older brother, Matteo, has been popular with the opposite sex since he turned fifteen. An endless string of socialites and models have clung to his arm over the years. I don’t remember seeing him with the same woman more than twice. I think my mother gave up on him ever falling in love. It didn’t seem to be in his DNA.
But Grace changed that. I’ve never seen my brother so besotted. And it’s easy to understand why. His new fiancée is kind and sweet. Her easy nature draws people in. I already love her like a sister.
Grace’s smile widens. “Thank you!” She glances around the tent, which is filled with a hundred and fifty close friends and family. “It was so thoughtful of your parents to throw this party for us.”
I pat her on the shoulder. “It’s adorable the way you think you had a choice in the matter.” Snorting, I shake my head. “My mother has so much more in the works for you. This little shindig is just the beginning of the circus that will roll into town. You need to either jump on the bandwagon or get run over by it.”
That statement would scare most women. Or at least make them rethink their decision. But not Grace. She’s embraced our family as if we were her own and seems to enjoy how overly involved we can be at times.
If anyone deserves a storybook happy ending, it’s this woman. Two and a half years ago, Grace lost both of her parents in a car accident. They’d been traveling in bad weather when they lost control of their vehicle. She doesn’t have any siblings, aunts, uncles, or grandparents. It was always just the three of them. I’ve tried imagining what that would feel like—to be completely alone in the world—but can’t fathom it. I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by family.
I have three brothers and a sister. There are dozens of cousins, aunts, and uncles in Chicago, New York, and Italy. Second and third cousins are considered family just as much as immediate ones. The Valentinis are a big, noisy, close-knit Italian family.
And I love it.
I can’t imagine my life any other way. Everyone is always in each other’s business. That’s just the way it is. I can understand how it could be overwhelming if you aren’t used to that kind of chaos. But Grace has thrown herself into the mix. It’s amazing how well she fits in.
Since it’s been a few years since Francesca got married and I’m as far from taking a walk down the aisle as you can get, Mama was overjoyed at the prospect of planning another wedding. Grace seems equally thrilled that my mother has commandeered the event.
“Did I mention that Teresa and I met with the wedding planner last week, just two days after Matteo proposed?” With shining eyes, she continues, “Can you believe he was able to squeeze us in on such short notice? Kenneth McKenzie is one of the most sought-after wedding planners in Chicago.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.” I laugh at her naiveté. My mother was on the phone with Kenneth making tentative arrangements right after Matteo picked out Grace’s ring. Mama is lucky that Grace is so easy going. Otherwise, they would end up butting heads.
“I’m so grateful that she’s helping me with all this,” she says softly. “I’d be completely lost and wouldn’t know where to start.”
Her words tug at my heartstrings. Mama has been a strong force in my life. Wanting to offer comfort, I slip an arm around Grace. “I’m sorry. It must be difficult not having your mother here to help plan the wedding.”
Grace smiles, but it doesn’t reach her blue eyes. “It’s been more than two years, and the loss of them still feels tender. I miss them the most at times like these.” Lost in her own thoughts, she falls silent for a moment. “Your parents have been so kind and welcoming. I’m thankful for that.” Putting on a brave face, Grace forces another smile. “It’s impossible to be sad when I have so many wonderful new people filling my life.”
Her gaze sweeps across the backyard, where a huge white tent has been erected for today’s festivities. Space heaters are discreetly placed throughout the area in case the weather doesn’t cooperate.
Thankfully, it has.
It might be late April, but you never know what you’re going to get in the Midwest. The weather is unpredictable and often changes in the blink of an eye. It could be sunny and warm one day and snowy the next.
“And just look at this party!” Grace exclaims in an awed tone. “How did your mother pull all this together so quickly?”
“It’s one of her many talents,” I joke.
Sparkling crystal chandeliers hang from the tent’s ceiling. Fifteen round tables filled with vasefuls of pink and white roses are arranged beneath them. Rectangular white-clothed tables line one of the sides, laden with meats, cheeses, breads, and pasta dishes that are kept warm in silver chafing dishes. Another table boasts a display of delicate desserts. I’ve been eyeing the tiramisu for at least an hour. Waiters in black tuxedos circulate throughout the space, armed with polished serving trays full of champagne. A string quartet tucked into a corner adds ambiance to the celebration.
I have to hand it to my mother. Once again, she’s pulled off a perfect event. She’s a mastermind at these kinds of affairs. She probably doesn’t need Kenneth’s help, but she adores him. My gaze lands on Mama, who’s surrounded by a dozen or so guests. She has an infectious personality that attracts people to her like bees to honey. Even though this gathering isn’t in her honor, she’s in her element as mother of the groom.
Family from New York flew in for this occasion. Franco and his family also stopped by to extend their congratulations. I catch sight of my friend and wave. He smiles in return. I hope we can carve out a few hours to catch up before he leaves. With both of us working full-time and living in separate cities, we aren’t able to spend as much time together.
As I continue studying the thick crowd, I’m jolted into awareness by dark, brooding eyes that are focused on me. The moment our gazes collide, a jolt of electricity shoots through my body, rendering me powerless to turn away.
No matter how many times I’ve tried desensitizing myself to Roman Santori’s presence, my reaction is always swift and powerful. It’s like the rest of the world falls away, leaving just the two of us.
Why him?
What is it about this man that attracts me like no other?
My fingers rise of their own accord and feather across my lips as our gazes stay locked from across the distance separating us. I’ve replayed that kiss on the staircase landing more than a thousand times in my head.
Over a year later, I still don’t understand why he kissed me. No matter how much I secretly longed for a repeat performance, nothing has happened. If anything, Roman’s become colder and more standoffish. I didn’t think it was possible, but it is.
I keep hoping I’ll outgrow my infatuation with Roman, but it hasn’t happened yet. I’m beginning to wonder if it ever will, which sucks. I don’t want to be hung up on a guy who can’t even be pleasant when our paths cross.
When I meet new guys, I automatically compare them to Roman. The kiss we shared has ruined me for all other men. And it blew every other kiss I’ve experienced into oblivion.
If Roman intended to teach me a lesson, his attempt backfired spectacularly. Instead of driving me away, it’s deepened my attraction to him.
I want him more now than ever before.
Grace clears her throat, and I realize that I’m still staring at Roman, who, along with my brothers, Giovanni, Matteo, and Niko, flank my father. Roman has become my father’s right-hand man over the course of the last three years by making himself indispensable to the organization.
When I remain silent, she nudges me with her elbow. “So, Roman, huh?”
Heat suffuses my cheeks. This is one of those times when I’m glad I have olive-toned skin. A blush isn’t nearly as noticeable as on someone with a creamy complexion. Like Grace, for instance. Matteo seems to take pride in bringing the color out in her fair cheeks.
I look away from Roman and scoff, “Of course not,” wincing as the lie rolls off my tongue.
She arches an eyebrow. “Are you sure about that?”
I draw myself up to my full height. “I couldn’t be more certain.”
Grace and I have spent a lot of time getting to know one another during the six months she’s been with Matteo. I’ve kept my feelings for Roman under strict lock and key even though we’ve grown close.
There’s no point in mentioning them.
Roman isn’t interested in me. He’s done everything in his power to prove how inconsequential my existence is to him. After years of frigid looks and abrupt dismissals, it seems pathetic that I can’t get over him and move on with my life.
“I don’t know,” Grace muses. “He looks awfully interested to me.”
My gaze darts in his direction before I can stop it.
Thankfully, Matteo ends the conversation when he sneaks up behind Grace and wraps his arms around her.
My heart melts as I watch him pull her in for a backward hug. I’m happy that he’s found a woman so perfectly suited to him.
When he nuzzles her ear, I pretend to gag.
Okay, maybe it’s not pretend.
Their overly affectionate manner is enough to make anyone nauseous.
And jealous, too.