The Italian's Forbidden Virgin (Mills & Boon Modern) (Those Notorious Romanos, Book 2) Carol Marinelli (ebook reader with built in dictionary .TXT) 📖

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

‘COLOUR,’ ELOA HAD SAID.

A Brazilian wedding was a colourful affair, and that was evident even before the nuptials had started. Even though Gian was not in Rome this weekend, he had ensured La Fiordelise was at their disposal. The reception area was a blaze of colour and forbidden perfume, Ariana noticed as she walked through Reception and headed up to her suite to get changed.

Ariana would have preferred to wear black, as she had to the Romano Ball, to denote that she was in mourning. For her father, of course, but the end of a relationship also felt a whole lot like grief. She awoke with a weight of sadness in her chest that never quite left, and she felt Gian’s presence beside each and every thought. Yet she must push it all aside today, so she chose a dress as red as her signature lipstick. She wore her jet-black hair up, teased, with a few stray curls snaking down, meaning that she looked far more vibrant than she felt.

As Stefano fiddled with his tie, Ariana stepped out for a moment onto the balcony and looked down at the square beneath and remembered the night of her father’s funeral, that desperately lonely night made so much better by Gian.

Why had she insisted that he stay away, when the truth was that she missed him already?

Half the congregation were clipping their way across the square to the venue and Ariana watched the colourful display from the balcony of Stefano’s suite. The sun seemed at odds with the greyness of her world, and the flowers looked like placards from angry protesters to her tired eyes, yet they waved their petals and demanded she sparkle.

And so Ariana put on her best smile and stepped back inside. ‘We should head over soon,’ she told him.

‘Before we do, there’s something I want to say,’ Stefano said. ‘Ariana, I’m sorry for shutting you out.’

‘Stefano, we don’t need to do this now. It’s your wedding day...’

‘And I want it to be perfect,’ he said. ‘I want the air to be cleared between us. Gian suggested—’

‘Gian?’ Ariana frowned.

‘He called me this morning to wish me well and apologise for not being here. We got to talking...’ He took a breath.

Even though he wasn’t physically here, Gian was still looking out for her, Ariana realised. He was still fixing the pieces of her life that he could, and she was so grateful to him as Stefano spoke on and finally gave her his reasons for keeping his distance. ‘You see, I knew Mamma was having an affair, and I was having suspicions about Pa and Roberto. I was worried I might let things slip when I spoke to you and so I stayed away as much as I could. I was wrong...’

‘No,’ Ariana corrected. ‘You did what you thought best at the time, and the air is clear now.’ Clear, if a little thick with unshed tears when she thought of Gian and this moment he had created to bring her and her twin back together.

‘We have some catching up to do,’ Stefano prompted.

‘We do...’ Ariana smiled ‘...though it can wait till after your honeymoon.’ But certain things would wait for ever. They were close again, but it would never be like it was before. Gian had changed her, she realised. She was far more independent now and did not need to run and tell Stefano everything, certainly not about herself and Gian.

It was her secret to keep.

‘Do you have the rings?’ Stefano asked for maybe the twentieth time.

‘I have the rings.’ Ariana smiled as she checked again for maybe the thirtieth time! ‘Are you nervous?’

‘Very,’ Stefano admitted, and looked at his sister. ‘I miss him.’

‘I know you do.’

‘It’s the bride who should be crying...’ Stefano said as he took a deep breath. ‘I’m so happy yet I miss him so much today.’

‘Hey,’ Ariana soothed, and then she did something she never thought she would do. She reached into her purse and took out a tiny sliver of gold she had sworn she would never give away, but that Gian had told her she might. ‘Papà gave Gian this for strength when his family died...’

‘Really?’

‘And he gave it to me when I felt weak at Papà’s funeral, but I don’t need it any more.’ She put it in his top pocket. ‘Papà is with you today.’

Ariana got on with her designated job: getting her brother to the embassy on time and remembering the rings.

Eloa was a stunning bride and the day brimmed with happiness. Well, that was what Ariana determinedly showed, even if there was a squad of elves holding down the cork on a vat of tears she would later shed.

‘No Nicki?’ Dante checked after the service as he handed her a glass of cachaça—a rather smoky Brazilian rum that made her eyes water. Ariana shook her head, deciding that she would tell him another time about the photo.

Tonight was a celebration after all.

And then Mia had a question for her new husband. ‘No Gian again?’

‘His new hotel,’ Dante said. ‘The opening was booked before the wedding date was decided and couldn’t be changed...’

It was a throwaway sentence as he took his gorgeous wife off to dance and Ariana stood there, wondering how she would get through not just tonight but every future Romano family event at which Gian should be present.

Because Mia was right, Gian should be here.

The Romanos loved him like their own and he belonged here amongst them.

And when the next one happened, and the next, Ariana had to somehow work out how not to tumble into bed with him afterwards.

For. The. Rest. Of. Her. Life.

Oh, those elves were working overtime, yet she refused to cry and so she danced with Pedro, who was a cousin of the bride, and she danced with Francisco, who was a friend of an aunt, and Ariana laughed and danced and determinedly refused to give in to a heart that was breaking.

‘Come on, Ariana...’ They were all dragging