Chapter 4

While I was quietly finalizing my travel plans, a new baby in the family was about to be christened at the church.

Matteo's mother, Victoria Rinaldi, had personally sent word that I was expected to attend the ceremony before becoming the Donna.

My migraine had eased, though I still had no appetite. I changed into a formal dress anyway and went to the church.

When I arrived, Bianca was at the entrance checking the guest list, looking perfectly fine as she smiled and greeted each guest.

The moment she saw me, she had a waiter clear away the flowers near my seat.

"Elena can't handle strong floral scents. Swap these out for some unscented greenery."

The waiter took care of it right away and set out lush green ivy instead.

The seating had been arranged in advance, but once again, Matteo had forgotten what made me sick.

I felt nothing at all. I just nodded to Bianca in thanks.

She winked at me and leaned in to whisper. "Don't be mad at the Don. He's always been clueless when it comes to romance. When he gets here, just tell him you've missed him these past few days and ask him to stop by your bedroom tonight. Say you want to talk."

I nodded, but I had no intention of doing it.

It had always been like this. I'd followed Bianca's advice, and little by little, Matteo and I had grown closer.

Looking back, I realized Matteo had liked Bianca's personality all along. I'd just been wearing it as a disguise.

It wasn't the real me.

Matteo came out of the church in a sharply tailored black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist.

A few family members who'd been chatting broke off when they saw him and greeted him respectfully.

But his eyes went to Bianca first.

"The doctor told you to rest. What are you doing here?"

"We have family elders here today. I was worried no one else would get it right."

Bianca waved the list in her hand, then pointed at my seat.

"Don't worry, just leave everything to me. I even took care of the flowers at Elena's seat for you."

That was when Matteo finally looked my way. Or rather, at the greenery on my table.

"You're always so thoughtful."

After a few more words to Bianca, he beckoned me over. "Elena, come with me. We need to make the rounds and toast the elders."

Matteo signaled a waiter to hand me a glass of champagne, as if he'd completely forgotten I'd been in the hospital three days earlier.

I thought I felt a dull cramp starting in my stomach. I took the glass without a fuss.

I wasn't about to make myself sick. I stayed by Matteo's side, smiling, raising my glass, and pretending to drink.

But Matteo noticed. His eyes dropped to my untouched glass, his tone turning stern. "Elena, you need to drink. It's disrespectful not to."

I smiled at him, poured my champagne into his glass, and had a waiter bring me a glass of orange juice instead.

"Matteo, you're an attentive man. You make it painfully obvious who you care about and who you don't."

He caught the sarcasm, and his voice took on a dangerous edge. "Elena, this isn't the place for one of your tantrums. Is this about the champagne, or the flowers?"

"Don," I said casually, "I told you a long time ago that I can't handle strong floral scents. That's why you always brought me daisies when you came to see me. They hardly have any scent."

He frowned, then seemed to remember. "Oh, the daisies. That was Bianca's idea too. She said they were a symbol of true love."

The moment the words left his mouth, Matteo seemed to realize his mistake. He fell silent and swallowed hard.

"Elena, you know I've never paid much attention to that kind of thing."

I kept my polite smile in place, but I couldn't hold back a bitter laugh. "So you've never paid much attention to anything about me. Is that what you mean?"

One of the older family members, oblivious to the tension between us, approached with his arms outstretched, cutting Matteo off before he could respond.

Maybe he didn't know how to answer without looking bad anyway.

I stepped aside, one name stuck in my mind: Bianca. She had brought us together. Now she stood between us.

Even the orange juice tasted bitter now.