STELLA
The jet ride home is like the calm before the storm. Tito and Antonio seem more nervous than me, which is some sort of solace, considering I just married into their family without meeting everyone or even telling them I’m engaged. My family will be thrilled, no doubt, but I know the San Giovanni’s are particular in how they go about things. It should be an interesting dinner.
Dinner at Pops, that’s what they said this morning as we packed, anyway. Jack took his plane home an hour before us, but we made sure to thank him for everything. He pulled through when it counted, and even though we couldn’t help him bring in Agent Fine, at least we gave him some good leads.
Antonio had not let me out of his sight since our wedding yesterday. (God, that’s so weird to say.) But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m madly in love with him, couldn’t imagine life without him, and standing up on that altar without him was the worst feeling. I realized too late just how hard I had fallen and was praying with every fiber of my being that I would get the chance to tell him. (Now we’re married, so who says praying doesn’t work?)
His arms are around me as I rest my head on his shoulder. He’s been playing a game of chess with Tito, who has won six times already, so I have no idea why he keeps trying, but no one can say he isn’t persistent.
“Checkmate.” Tito glances up at him with a grin as he knocks the Queen over with his pawn.
“Again.” Antonio circles his index finger for them to reset, and Tito yawns.
“Honestly, bro. I’m going to nap. This is making me tired.” Antonio rolls his eyes.
“Whatever.” And swats a hand as Tito crosses the plane to lay on a couch by the window. Antonio tilts his chin down, sweeping his palm from my forehead to my hair, and I meet his gaze.
“Hello.” He whispers.
“Hi.” I feel the butterflies rise, and he kisses me softly with his warm, smooth lips. It’s always a shock how he takes my breath away. I don’t think that will ever go away, and I don’t want it to. He pulls away, and I bite down on my lower lip to taste the lingering remnants of him. Then he kisses my forehead and draws me closer to him, so I snuggle up on his chest for the remainder of the flight.
I wake up when we’ve arrived because Tito is calling for us to hurry, and I realize we’ve both fallen asleep. I sit up and rub my sleepy eyes, kissing Antonio’s cheek.
“We’re home,” I say, holding on to his shoulder as I stand and begin to walk to the center of the plane to leave, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me down. I squeal as I fall onto his lap, and we laugh into a kiss.
“I love you,” He whispers as we pull away.
“I love you,” I whisper back, feeling completely natural saying this to him because I mean it with all of my heart, feel at home in his arms and known by his love. He lifts me up as Tito comes back to admonish us for taking so long.
“We’re coming.” Antonio flatly prods, and Tito stomps back out of the plane. He sets me down when we’re at the stairs and holds tightly to my hand as we walk together in the LA golden hour. The sun’s beginning to set when we jump into the car and buckle up next to Tito as Barker starts the car.
“Glad to have you back.” Antonio pats his shoulder from the back seat.
“Next time I wake up on the ground when I’m meant to be guarding you, you have every right to fire me.” Barker chuckles as we drive off the platform and onto the main road. Tito and Antonio let out a laugh, and I remember Alk. Yes, he betrayed my family's trust, but only to protect his own. I get that feeling, that drive and longing to make sure everyone is safe. Hell, I almost married a fucking Russian mobster to ensure mine remain unharmed.
I’ve known Alk since I was young, and in the loss of him, I feel a hole similar to the one my father's death brought. It’s unfortunate and hurtful, a gap that might never heal. He was good to me, despite his indiscretions, he loved our family well. Antonio can tell I’m on a sad train of thought, so she brings our hands, still holding tightly to one another, and kisses mine. I force a sad smile, and he looks between my eyes questioningly. I shake my head, but he continues to look.
“Alk. They killed him,” I whisper quietly, and his mouth parts slightly.
“I’m so sorry, Stell,” He whispers and catches a tear I didn’t realize was rolling down my cheek with his finger.
We arrive at Pops’ house at around seven p.m., which is still too early for an Italian dinner, but we need time to get ready. The moment we walk up the towering front doors, they burst open, and squeals of delight flood my ears.
“Espie, Olive, calm!” Antonio shooshes them, wrist at a 90-degree angle, as he moves his flat palm from the level of his head to his waist. The girls calm down more and pull me into a hug.
“Hi!” They greet me, pulling me through them as I look back at Antonio, who shakes his head.
“We want to help you get ready!” Olive giggles, her perfectly upturned nose scrunching as she does. They both look about the same age, probably twenty-one and nineteen, if I could guess their ages. Espie is shorter, but her composure tells me she’s older than Olive, who has curious eyes and doll-like features.
They walk with me up their staircase and around the railing overlooking the most extravagant chandelier I’ve ever seen. Its size is the most incredible element of it. It’s hanging from the bottom of the foyer up the next staircase, hanging above at the lowest level. They catch me looking at it, and Espie rattles off information about where it’s from.
“Pops bought it from a castle on a trip to Italy with Mother before we were born. It’s magnificent.” She smiles, and I nod in agreement as we head up the next flight of stairs. At the top is a large sliding door that opens up to a large bedroom with a smaller, just-as-awe-striking chandelier and decor that makes me feel as though I’ve stepped into a princess palace. Silk and gold cover the room with white and burnt orange swirled marble and a giant fluffy white rug at the center of the room where they have laid out outfit options for me.
“We didn’t know your style, but Antonio said you love fashion.”
“Did he?” I grin, looking over the clothes that honestly are all eye-catching pieces put together well. But the one that catches my eyes is a Marchesa illusion gown with feathers and flowers. Its sheer overlays all in nudes, pinks, and creams make it look like a waterfall of floating flowers, and I’m obsessed with it. I don’t love Marchesa. It wouldn't be my first choice for something like dinner with the family, but the girls picked it out, so it must be acceptable. Not to mention again how incredibly stunning it is.
“I like this.” I pick it up, and they point me to the bathroom to try it on. I follow their orders, slip into it like it's a second skin, and it's even more beautiful on me than on the floor of their room. When I step out of the bathroom, they gasp.