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.”