Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away. He stared at me, let his gaze linger down my body, then back to my face, and he seemed as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It made me blush and a flutter of butterflies assaulted my stomach—until I saw Uncle Roy grinning at me like a bastard.
That brought me back down to reality. This wasn’t about being with Dean or about me at all. This was about Uncle Roy and cementing the Paganini family with the Valentino family. Uncle Roy wasn’t going to want me to walk away from this marriage, and I was willing to bet that he didn’t know about my deal with Dean. In fact, Uncle Roy would probably torch the whole thing if he knew that I planned on running away in a few years, and that there was a zero chance he’d see a dime of my money. I’d rather burn it all than let that slime get a single penny.
So much for cementing our families together. So much for making Uncle Roy proud.
I looked back at Dean and he was still smiling. The thing I didn’t understand was what he thought would happen when I left. Uncle Roy would rebel, and there’d be a civil war within the Valentino family. I didn’t know what Dean was thinking, but maybe he hoped the situation would be different in five years, and that he’d have the family under his total control at that point. Maybe he hoped Uncle Roy would be dead before any of this mattered.
I wasn’t going to ask him right now, in the middle of our wedding ceremony. The priest droned on and I tried to keep myself from freaking out. Birds chirped high in the trees and the breeze tugged at my dress and my hair, and Dean tilted his head, meeting and holding my gaze, his hands rough on mine, his gorgeous lips turned up.
“Dean Valentino, do you take—”
“I do,” Dean said before the priest could finish. He grinned at me and winked.
The priest chuckled. “All right then. And Maggie Paganini, do you—”
“I do,” I said quickly.
Dean laughed and the priest shook his head in exasperation.
“Then by the power vested in me by the State of Pennsylvania and by our Lord God himself, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Dean, you may kiss the bride.”
He stepped toward me and I opened my mouth to protest—we never talked about kissing, this was supposed to be a formality—but he took me into his strong arms and pulled me close and pressed his lips against mine and kissed me, right there beneath the big oak tree in front of my uncle, and Bea, and the priest, and all of them disappeared.
There was only Dean and his lips and, god, his arms.
The kiss finally broke off, leaving me breathless and dizzy with wanting.
“Congratulations,” Uncle Roy said loudly, laughing like he won the lottery. Dean turned and shook his hand, and I stepped away from the men. Bea put a hand on my shoulder and smiled, but her smile was almost sad, almost a little broke.
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly while the men laughed with each other.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just a little lightheaded, is all.”
“Why don’t you go up to the house, dear?” she asked.
“I’ll go with you,” Dean said, detaching himself from my uncle and the priest.
“That’s okay,” I said quickly. “Bea will go with me. I’m sure you’re busy.”
“Not too busy for my new wife.” He put an arm around my waist and steered me back to the house. Bea gave me a chagrined smile and joined the priest and my uncle in polite conversation. “Mags Valentino,” Dean said softly. “Has a nice ring to it.”
“I thought I might keep my name,” I said, blinking rapidly. This wasn’t how I was supposed to feel on my wedding day. Dizzy and nervous, yes, but terrified, and a little sick, probably not.
“Really?” he asked, and grunted once. “I don’t think so. I’m not against it, but that’s not how things work in this family.”
I wanted to protest, but my mantra flitted through my mind. Ten million.
“Fine,” I said. “I guess I can handle it.”
“Good.” We reached the back door and he let me back inside. He followed me and snatched my hand before I could get too far away from him. “Have I told you how good you look yet?”
“We haven’t talked much,” I said as he tugged me toward him. “Except for saying I do, and kissing, obviously.”
“That’s right,” he said softly, fingers trailing down my cheek toward my neck. God, what the hell was he doing? “You look incredible. Seriously, Mags. You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“I never imagined myself getting married, but I couldn’t have chosen a better bride.”
“I’m sure you could have if you tried,” I said.