The next two hours went by very quickly. The two women styled her hair simply, pulling it back to let it hang in loose curls down her neck. They did her makeup flawlessly, smoky eyes and an accent of dark lipstick that made her look terribly sexy.
Her gown was her dream gown, one from a designer, Yumi Katsuri. She'd loved her work and often looked at the gowns online, never thinking she'd actually get married in one of her creations. She had mentioned the designer one time to Ricco, in passing, and he must have remembered. Of course he had. He remembered everything she said to him. If he thought it important enough, he took the time to get whatever it was, or do it for her immediately. He had discussed having the designer make her a one-of-a-kind gown, but she didn't want to spend that kind of money.
Even though she now could buy anything she wanted, she had been very frugal growing up and living on the tiny amount she was given. Everything she bought had been carefully chosen. She'd seen so much poverty and so many others in need that she'd been very grateful for what she had. She wanted to stay that way, and she wanted her children to value what they had and be aware of what others didn't. In her mind, it was a splurge to have a wedding gown so beautiful, and as it was, she knew the gown chosen was expensive, just not by Ferraro standards.
It had a modified ivory halter top, fitted to her perfectly. The dress dropped into swirls of white tulle, layer after layer, so it appeared light and airy.
Mariko touched the dress reverently and then brushed her hand along the Swarovski crystals adorning the top. "I love the crystals." It was becoming real now that she had the dress on. Her heart began to pound. She was marrying Ricco Ferraro. She would be his wife, beloved by him, cherished by him. It seemed a fairy tale, something she might have read about in one of the thousands of books she'd read. She never believed she would find a man who would really love her, let alone make her the center of his universe.
"Um, honey," Francesca said. "Those aren't crystals."
Mariko frowned, her eyes meeting Francesca's in the mirror. "They are. Believe me, I've read the description of this dress a million times. I've always loved it."
"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.