Today's the day. I'm getting married in three hours to the most amazing man I've ever met. A man who makes butterflies roar in my stomach just like they did years ago. A man who looks at me like nothing else in this world matters. A man that I definitely don't deserve.
"Good morning," Victoria's voice travels into the bathroom as I turn off the shower.
Patrice is in my bedroom getting the dresses ready while a few other women set up tables for hair and makeup. Their excited chatter echoes in my room as they get everything prepared.
I wrap a towel around myself before stepping into the room. Patrice has a steamer going, smoothing out any wrinkles. Victoria is already in her dressing gown and rushes across the room to pull me into a tight hug.
"Good morning to you too," I laugh, offering a one armed hug.
"You're getting married today," she squeals as we separate.
"I know," I smile back.
"Here," Vic offers me a silk dressing gown.
"Grazie," I reply, ducking back into the bathroom. I quickly discard the towel and slip on the robe.
"C'mon you two," Patrice calls out, nodding towards the tables of makeup and hair products.
Vic grabs my hand and pulls me with her to the chairs. I laugh at her excitement, close to matching my own, and sit beside her.
One of the women approaches and begins to untangle my hair. Another comes over and starts doing my makeup. My leg starts to bounce as they work. I'm somewhere between anxious and giddy.
I love Gio, truly, and would do anything for him. The other night Luca put a gun to my head and reminded me that I don't have a choice in marrying him. But I just laughed at him.
No one needs to force me to marry Giovanni. It's something I've dreamt of since I was a teenager. But our family doesn't have the best track record with churches; I can't help but to be nervous.
The women step away and I open my eyes. My hair has been curled and partially pinned back with a few tendrils framing my face. Soft brown eyeshadow with the thinnest of winged liner and my signature bright red lip. I smile at my reflection and take a steadying breath.
"Come," Patrice waves me over.
I rise from the chair and cross the room to stand in front of her. As she offers me a white box, the door swings open. Rocco strides right inside with furrowed brows.
"Rocco!" I exclaim, "what the hell are you doing?"
"Sorry I-" he starts but Vic cuts him off.
"Haven't you heard of knocking?" she scolds, "we're not even dressed."
Rocco rolls his eyes and sighs, "I don't care how little clothes you're wearing, Victoria. I'm not interested anyway."
"Rocco Salvino!" she exclaims, "wait what's your middle name? I need to scold you properly."
"Rocco."
My brows furrow, "your name is Rocco Rocco?"
"No," he shakes his head, "my name is Dante Rocco."
"Wait what?" Vic asks incredulously. We lock eyes and share the same confused expression.
"What?" he looks between the two of us, "did you not know that Rocco is my middle name?"
"No, why would I?" I scoff.
"That's what everyone calls you," Victoria adds.
"I prefer it that way," he shrugs in response.
YOU ARE READING
Taking The Mantle
Romance✨Book 2 in the DiSilva Series✨ Giovanni Marino must step up to the plate and fix the trail of chaos Antonio DiSilva leaves in his wake. He is disciplined and meticulous, traits many leaders envy. In order to keep his title as Don, he must marry Ros...
