The Fabrizio Bride

Chapter Twelve

He held her until she relaxed against him. God, he was a hard man to love.

They headed back to the garden and sat down to a delicious meal. Rafe made almost constant contact with her in some way, soothing her. At Sarika's insistence, Lorenzo stayed, and once the older generation turned in, the conversation became more animated. It was hilarious to observe the rivalry between Rafe and Lorenzo, with Santo chipping in on both sides. She'd forgotten they'd all attended Saint Ignatius—had been friends...of sorts...and still played soccer with some other men from their school a few times a week.

The party broke up relatively early because of the big day tomorrow, and everyone but Lorenzo, who returned to his home, went to their assigned rooms.

Sarika readied for bed, then tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She kept playing the chaotic afternoon and Rafe's lateness over and over in her mind, increasing her anxiety. Finally, she pushed the covers back, put on a robe, and stepped into the hall—right into Elena.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked.

"Uh...nothing."

Sarika rolled her eyes. "You are such a liar. Are you meeting up with Santo?"

"Not exactly."

"What does that mean?"

Elena moaned. "He's just so big and dominant. And...big. What do you care if I jump his bones?"

"I don't. I mean I do care, but not in that way. Elena he's going to say no. Santo is old-fashioned. He'll want to be the one doing the chasing."

"Oh come on. He's a man. He won't be thinking about anything other than me when I flash him what's under here." She opened her robe to reveal a very slinky, black nightgown.

Sarika shook her head. "It's your funeral. Just don't let it affect tomorrow."

Elena grinned. "I won't." Then she hurried down the hall.

Sarika watched her go, then headed in the opposite direction. A few doors down, she knocked softly and went inside. The lump in the bed rolled over, and she sighed with relief, shedding her robe.

"Sarika?" Rafe asked.

"Shhh, go back to sleep." She lifted the covers and crawled in beside him, turning so he spooned behind her.

His arm tucked her closer. "Are you sure? What about Ana Lisa?"

"We're not doing anything wrong. Just sleeping."

She threaded her fingers with his. His heat saturated her, and she relaxed, drifting toward sleep.

"Were you afraid I would leave tonight?" he asked quietly.

The question roused her, and she hesitated, then nodded.

He buried his head in the crook of her neck and pulled her tighter. "God, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I don't deserve to marry you tomorrow."

"Yes, you do. Just don't do it again."

"He stroked her hair behind her ear, and said, "Happy. That's my H word for today. You make me so damn happy."

She smiled and dropped off to sleep.

* * *

The necklace glinted against her skin in the bedroom mirror. Sarika couldn't believe it. Rafe's gift must have cost a fortune and taken days to make. Each little diamond was perfect, spelling out "Princess" with a heart-shaped diamond dotting the i. The platinum chain matched the setting for her diamond earrings and engagement ring, which would soon be joined by a wedding band.