Be kind to Olivia, who needs to be loved unconditionally after what she has been through. I know you have this in you, too, which is why I entrusted her to you.
Finally, walk lightly, Rocco, and remember the power of your actions. You carry a heavier stick than even you know.
Giovanni xx
Something frayed and weakened inside of Rocco tore open. He sat there for a long moment, heat burning the backs of his eyes. The questions he’d been asking for weeks had found answers, the niggling uncertainties that had made it even more difficult to sleep at night eased. He couldn’t say he approved of all of his grandfather’s decisions; Giovanni had been right on that. But his thoughts on where he was at the moment, his feelings for Olivia, rang uncannily true.
The fact that he had found his capacity to feel with Olivia was a potential his grandfather had foreseen. The fact that he had messed it up so badly was his to own and his alone.
He sat staring at the letter. Every bone in his body told him to go find Olivia and fix them. He had been fixing things his entire life. But she had said she needed time, and he risked losing her forever if he went after her. So all he could hope was that she showed up for this bloody circus of a wedding of theirs so he could say the words he needed to say.
If he’d thought he’d felt helpless before, that had nothing on this.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THE WEDDING DAY of Rocco Mondelli and Olivia Fitzgerald dawned crisp and clear on the shores of Lake Como in the shadow of the Alps. Referred to by the ancient poet Virgil as “our greatest lake,” Lake Como was Europe’s deepest at over thirteen hundred feet in depth, its deep blue waters stretching for a majestic thirty miles in length.
A perfect setting for the wedding that was capturing headlines around the world, Rocco thought, standing on the front steps of Villa Mondelli, the historic former Cistercian nunnery dedicated to the Holy Virgin. Except with four hours to go before the nuptials began, the palatial villa and grounds a hive of frenzied activity, one key component was missing. His bride.
He took in the two priceless carved statues of the Holy Virgin flanking the pillars of the front stairs and wondered if she was the problem. Maybe the wedding was on the rocks because no Mondelli had ever dared get married here given the villa’s sacrosanct past. Maybe the nuns were protesting...
He rubbed a hand over his jaw and swept aside the dark humor. Because really nothing was humorous about being stood up at the altar. About suffering the ultimate public humiliation in front of five hundred guests from every corner of the world.
Stefan Bianco, Christian Markos and Zayed Al Afzal, resplendent in designer tuxedos and mauve bow ties to match the maid of honor’s dress, stood beside him, all with identical expressions on their faces. Christian would call it the “what the hell do we do now?” look. Stefan, however, would have added a slightly more vicious edge to it, he knew. “I said she was trouble,” he’d muttered last night when they’d arrived at the villa to find Olivia Fitzgerald was nowhere to be found twenty-four hours before the wedding. Zayed, the future king, had looked shocked. Which had now faded into his “ready for anything” expression, fitting for a man whose nation might soon be at war.
Three warriors who had conquered global markets and more than their fair share of hearts—and there was nothing they could do to make this right.
Christian frowned. “What next?”
Rocco shrugged, far more casually than the turmoil racking him inside. “If she loves me, she’ll come.”
“A good point,” Zayed agreed.
“Goddamn her,” Stefan exploded, turning on the future king. “This is not okay, fratelli. I want to find her and strangle her with my bare hands.”
“That would not help the situation,” Zayed countered. “Clear thinking is what is called for.”
“And what,” Stefan bit out, “would your clear-thinking head suggest? Five hundred people are on their way here right now. The Pope, a personal friend of the Mondelli family, is coming. And we are minus a bride.”
“I’m going to drive into Milan and check the apartment.” Rocco voiced the only solution he had left. “She loves the gardens there. It’s a possibility.”
“It’s also a possibility she might use her phone,” Stefan exploded, throwing his hands in the air.
Rocco gave him a look. He knew Olivia was on Italian soil. Her flight had landed early this morning in Milan. What she was doing now was another question. He intended to find out.
“Stay here with Zayed and keep things running,” he instructed his hotheaded friend. “Make sure what needs to happen happens. You,” he said, tossing his car keys at Christian, “drive.”