A Very Exclusive Engagement(48)
Francesca was pretty sure her own wary appearance hadn’t helped. But there was nothing she could do about it. She had to save her smiles and energy for the wedding and reception.
“Are you okay, bella?” her mother asked. She was a tinier version of Francesca, with the same dark eyes and warm brown skin. Her thick, brown hair was pulled back into a bun, with elegant streaks of gray running through it like professionally added highlights. She was wearing a shimmering gray dress with a jacket. Ariella had pinned a pink and white rose corsage to her lapel earlier. Her father had one very similar on his tuxedo.
Francesca nodded and stood, straightening her gown. She’d hoped for and found a white, strapless gown; there had been many to choose from because that style was in fashion. This one had a lace overlay that went to the floor and was delicately embroidered in a pattern with silver beads, crystals and pearls down to the chapel train. What she liked best about it was the silver sash around her waist with a crystal embellishment in the center. It accented her hourglass figure and gave the dress a little something special.
“Why do you ask?” Francesca asked innocently.
“You just don’t look as happy as I was expecting. Where is my beautiful, blushing bride?” Her mother reached up to gently caress her face.
She stopped fidgeting with the dress and smiled, gripping her mother’s hand reassuringly. “Yes, Mama, I am fine. I’m just a little nervous.”
“You should be, marrying a man you hardly know,” her father snarled from the corner.
“Victor!” her mother scolded over her shoulder. “We discussed this. We did the same thing, didn’t we? And aren’t you happy thirty years later?”
He shrugged and slumped into his chair. This was one argument he would lose, and he knew it. But he didn’t have to like it. Francesca could easily see where she got her own stubborn streak and fiery temper.
“Mama, could you give me that small hand mirror so I can see the back?”
Donatella handed her the silver mirror and Francesca held it so she could make sure everything looked okay. Satisfied, she laid it on the edge of the dresser, but it tipped with the heavy weight of the handle and fell to the floor with a crash.
“Oh, no,” Francesca lamented, crouching down to pick up the shattered hand mirror. There were only a few slivers of the reflective surface left, the rest scattered on the floor. Slumping into her chair, she looked at the broken glass and shook her head. “Seven years bad luck,” she said. “As though I needed another sign.”
“Nonsense,” her mother chided. “Your nonna filled your head with silliness when you were a child. This means nothing aside from having to sweep up and buy a new mirror. Your marriage will be whatever you make it. And if you believe in your heart that it is doomed before it starts, you’ll be right. You must fill your heart and soul with joy, not fear, as you walk down that aisle, bella.”
Francesca hoped her mother was right. She should ignore the signs and try to make the most of her year with Liam. It was all she was going to get so she shouldn’t spend the precious time she had moping about losing him.
A gentle rap sounded at the door and Ariella stuck her head in. “Mrs. Orr, it’s time for you to be seated. I’ll be back for the bride and her father in just a moment.” She gave Francesca a quick wink of encouragement as they slipped out of the room.
Now was the moment Francesca was dreading the most. Five minutes alone with her father without her mother to be the buffer. Hopefully she could distract him with idle conversation until Ariella returned.
“How do I look, Daddy?”
The large Irishman crossed his arms over his chest and admired her for a moment before he spoke. “Like the saddest, most beautiful bride I have ever seen.”
Francesca frowned at him. How could he see into her so well? “I’m smiling. Why do you think I’m sad?”
“There’s something in your eyes. Something isn’t quite right about all this—I can tell.”
“Don’t be silly, Daddy.”
Victor stood up and walked over to her. He helped Francesca up from her seat and held her hand tightly. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you love him.”
Francesca fixed her gaze on her father. If she really wanted to back out of this wedding, this was her chance. All she had to do was say the word and he would have her on a plane to California before Aunt Beatrice knew what hit her. But she couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t.