Page 54 of My Wedding Mafia Style

Luca sits, pulling me gently beside him. “Water, then.”

A glass of chilled water appears so quickly I suspect the entire world moves faster for people named Moretti. I take a sip, mostly to give my hands something to do.

Luca looks at Elena. “The rings we discussed.”

My body goes very still. Rings. Plural.

Elena nods and disappears behind a velvet curtain.

I turn slowly toward Luca. “Rings.”

“Yes.”

“For fingers?”

His mouth curves. “Usually.”

“No. No, do not get charming. This is not a charming moment. This is a rings moment.”

“It can be both.”

“It absolutely cannot.”

Elena returns with a velvet tray, and my lungs stop performing at a professional level.

There are six rings. Six.

I know this because I count them, then count them again, hoping the number will become less alarming. It does not. Diamonds catch the light from above, white andbright and impossible. One is a classic oval solitaire. One has emerald side stones. One is cushion-cut, antique-looking and romantic in a way that makes my heart do something treacherous. Another is sleek and modern, all clean lines and dangerous money.

I put both hands in my lap.

“Nope.”

Luca looks at me. “Nope?”

“Nope is a complete sentence.”

Elena politely looks at the tray as if she has not heard stranger things from women in this exact chair.

Luca leans slightly closer. “Lucy.”

“Do not Lucy me in front of the diamonds.”

His eyes warm. “We need a ring.”

“No, we need therapy, a timeline, and maybe a very detailed group text to your family.”

“For the engagement.”

I stare at him.

A small rushing sound fills my ears.

“The engagement,” I repeat.

“Yes.”

“The fake engagement?”