She grins. “Happy to beautify for you.” I watch as she pulls out one dress after another, lying them out on the bed while I step into my usual pants and suit coat. First, a pretty white sheath dress, followed by a maxi dress in a sunny gold, the color of fall marigolds. A modest pink dress with an empire waist follows a silvery-white floral thing that hugs her waist and flares dramatically.
“Theyalllook good. Why so nervous?”
“My family’s coming,” she says, as if that explains everything.
“I’m aware. You grew up with them. Why would it make you nervous to see them now?” I finish fastening my cuff links and turn to face her. She stands in nude-colored panties and a bra, her hands on her hips.
“I’ve… never seen them before as Mrs. SalvatoreCapo,” she says, her eyes suddenly watery. I give her a curious look, still trying to understand.
“You’re an adorable Mrs. Salvatore Capo, and you fill your role well, Marialena.” When she still looks uncertain and bites her lip, I call her to me with a crook of my finger. “Come here.”
I watch her look at the dresses, her closet full of shoes, then back at me.
“You just fucked me in the shower,” she says warily. “Are you already—”
“Comehere.”
I snap my fingers and point to the floor in front of me. She knows better than to delay obedience. If we weren’t crunched for time…
When she reaches me, I drag her closer, my hands around her waist. “Listen up, sweetheart.” I slide my finger under her chin, holding her gaze.
“What?” Her chin wobbles a little. Downstairs, the sound of doors opening and staff calling to one another echoes in the large rooms. I can see it in her eyes how nervous she is, how eager she is to please her family.
“When you took vows to me, you became a Capo,” I begin, gentling my voice because the message I’m delivering is none too gentle and won’t be easy for her to take. “You’re no longer Marialena Rossi. What your family thinks about you is no longer relevant. The only person you should care about pleasing isme.”
Her large, luminous eyes go even wider. “I know,” she whispers. “I know, Salvatore.” Gentle, warm fingers meet mine. “Yes, it’s true, I want to prove I’m not just some silly girl who does whatever the hell she wants on a whim. I’m the youngest Rossi, and I haven’t proven myself. So I won’t deny there’s a part of me that does want to show that I’m capable of filling this role that’s been forced on me. You know I didn’t choose this. I won’t pretend otherwise. But now that I’ve vowed myself to you, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I uphold my vows.”
My heart warms, expanding. I bend to kiss her and brush my lips across hers.
“But this is the first meeting of our families formally. It’s the first time your mother will meet my family. And I want to make very, very sure that I make the right impression.”
I kiss the apple of her cheek. “You’re a good girl. I understand. Just know that it doesn’t matter to me, any of it. If they approve. If my mother approves. In fact, a part of me feels you’re doing something goddamn right if she doesn’t.”
“I like that. She’s so high-strung and uptight, and it’s easy to bait her.”
“Maybe don’t bait hertoomuch.”
“I’m not afraid of her.”
Her lowered voice and twinkling eyes make her look like a little winged wood nymph, ready to fly away from me on dainty gossamer wings to cause mischief. I half imagine she’d fill that role quite nicely.
I catch myself with the whimsical thought, and almost want to shake myself. I don’t think like this. I definitely don’t ever think about things like fairies and wood nymphs and fanciful flights.
What the hell has this woman done to me?
I didn’t think any woman ever had the power to change me.
I was wrong.
She does need instructions, and not because she needs to prove herself to me or anything like that, but because she needs to prove this to herself.
“Go downstairs. Check on the food. Do a taste test, make sure everything’s hot and seasoned well and that there’s enough of it. The last time we hosted a dinner, we ran out of salad plates and the coffee was cold.”
I’ve cooked much of it and the rest has been cooked by my staff.
“On it!” she says, grinning at me. With her head held high, she marches to the door.
“Marialena!”