“This dress was specially made for you. Those are diamonds.”

Mariko’s breath caught in her throat. “He didn’t.”

“I’m afraid he did,” Emmanuelle said. “It was fitted just for you and the neckline made with diamonds. He said something about how he loved the way diamonds looked on your bare skin and he wanted to see that when you came up the aisle toward him. He also sent these earrings and a necklace.”

She produced chandelier earrings dripping with diamonds and a matching necklace. They felt cool against her skin, and when she looked in the mirror she was shocked at how beautiful she appeared. She had to blink back tears. Ricco had given that to her as well. She never would have considered herself beautiful if he hadn’t made her see herself that way.

She might have protested the diamonds, but she knew he was referring to his Shibari – no – their Shibari. He was talking to her the way he had with his ropes. Telling her he loved her, and she heard every word. She refused to dwell one moment longer in her past. She hoped he heard her when she told him back.

She didn’t ask questions, but let Francesca and Emmanuelle get her ready. They spent time getting ready and then the limousine was there to pick them up. Enzo was driving and he whistled softly as she was escorted out. Stefano was already inside and he smiled at her as Emilio handed her in.

“You look beautiful, Mariko,” he greeted.

“Thank you. You look quite handsome in that tuxedo.” He did. Ferraro men were made for suits.

“Are you ready for this? He’s railroading you.”

“You’re helping.”

He laughed. “Of course I’m helping him. You don’t think I’m going to chance the best thing he’s ever had in his life getting away from him, do you?”

“Your family is the best thing that ever happened to him, Stefano. Maybe within that family, it’s you. You’re the one who gave your siblings that closeness.”

Francesca and Emmanuelle had both slipped into the limousine as well. “You got that right,” Emmanuelle agreed, flashing a loving smile at her brother. “Of course, he’s terribly bossy.”

Stefano’s eyebrows shot up. “Bossy isn’t the same thing as boss.”

“You’re both,” Francesca and Emmanuelle said in unison.

Even Emilio smirked a little at that. Mariko looked down at her hands. She felt the love in the vehicle, emanating from the others. Even Stefano’s cousins. She was part of that circle because they’d made room for her. The brothers treated her just as they did Francesca and Emmanuelle, as if she were the most precious treasure in all the world. It was a little disconcerting after she’d been ignored, beaten or shamed for her entire life. Some days she wasn’t certain how to respond so she stayed very quiet.

After realizing that her depression and grief over losing her brother were keeping her from enjoying what she had, she was determined to grab life with both hands. Every single day with Ricco would be a miracle to her. She knew she loved him and she believed he loved her. She knew there would be doubts, she was conditioned to doubt herself, but she would use the ropes to stop the voices, just as Ricco did.

She should have asked where they were going. She didn’t because it hadn’t mattered – until she got there. She thought a small ceremony, just the family. It was a church, and not only the family but half or more than half the people living and working in the Ferraro territory were seated, waiting for the bride. She knew because she peeked out the door where she waited with Stefano, Emmanuelle and Francesca. She should have known. They were so loyal to the Ferraros, going so far as to try to defend them when they were under attack. It stood to reason that the family would invite them. She recognized Nicoletta, Lucia and Amo near the front, right behind the family pew. Signora Moretti was there as well. That was all she recognized in the sea of faces because she began to feel a little faint.

She was a woman of the shadows, not just when she was working but when she was home. She tried to disappear into corners, not be in the spotlight. She didn’t know if she could follow through and walk out there, even under Stefano’s protection. She shut the door and leaned against it, fighting for air.

“He invited everyone.”

Emmanuelle nodded, going to her side to urge her to sit. Francesca brought her a glass of water. “Our cousins from New York are here, that’s why the church seems so full. We have a lot of family. We wanted all the cousins to know you.”

She knew why. They were all close and they protected one another, unlike the family she grew up in. “I need him.”

“He can’t see you before the wedding,” Francesca protested.

“I need him right now,” Mariko said, desperate. If he didn’t get there, she didn’t know what she would do. Run? She’d never humiliate him that way, but she might faint, or worse, throw up on her way down the aisle to him. “Please go get him.”

Stefano slipped out the door, and Mariko counted her heartbeats until Ricco came in. He looked a little wary, as if she might be about to tell him she was going to run, but he went straight to her. She stood and he gasped, his eyes moving over her. Something in her settled at the look on his face. She had no idea how he had come to love her so much, but she not only saw the intensity in the naked emotion on his face, she felt it as well.

“Dio, farfallina mia, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

He believed that, too. She let her breath out, not realizing she’d been holding it, waiting for him. “I needed to see you. I know it’s supposed to be bad luck before the wedding, but…” She trailed off. She didn’t know exactly what she needed from him or why, only that it was imperative or she couldn’t walk out of the safety of the room.

He smiled, and his smile was gorgeous. He took the step separating them and pulled her into his arms. He smelled like Ricco. Wonderful. Familiar. Hers.

“Don’t kiss her, you goof,” Emmanuelle ordered. “You’ll mess up her makeup.”

His finger slid down the nape of her neck, a gesture that always steadied her. That’s what she needed. To know she was his. That she belonged. That he thought her strong and confident as a woman, just as she was as a rider.

“Emme, don’t you have more lipstick? You’re killing me here. Look at her. Don’t you want to kiss her?”

“Well, of course, just not quite in the same way,” Emmanuelle replied, her voice droll.

Mariko burst out laughing. “I’m fine now. Go wait for me.”

“That’s it? You’re okay now?” His eyes searched her face.

She nodded. “I just needed to see you. To know.”