Pretty in Ink (Voretti Family Book 3) (16 page)

“You surprised me today.”

“Huh?” He jerked awake at the sound of Liv’s voice.

“The vows you wrote. You’re a better liar than I thought you’d be.”

He shifted, suddenly aware of a lump in the mattress. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“Sometimes it is a good thing. Without little white lies, Nonna Hazel would know no one likes her calzone.”

“Then we wouldn’t have to choke those doughy balls of indigestion down anymore.”

“Choking down Nonna Hazel’s calzone is a time-honored family tradition.” Liv’s teeth chattered.

You could warm her up.

Caleb tensed, not allowing his body to stray a centimeter closer to Liv. She’d warm up soon.

“But we’re not talking about Nonna Hazel, we’re talking about you. How did Captain Integrity get so good at stretching the truth?”

It’s in my DNA.
“Everybody lies, Livvy. Like you said, without those little white lies Nonna Hazel would know her calzone taste like feet, and the entire family structure would crumble.”

“Yeah, but—”

“It’s late. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t. I’m freezing.”

“Give it a minute.”

“Talk to me.” She shivered. “Distract me from the fact that I’m about to die of frostbite.”

“It’s not
that
cold.”

“Tell me a secret. Something true. Something no one else knows.”

His jaw clenched, his body doing its best to make sure his mouth stayed safely shut. “I don’t have any secrets.”

“Everybody has secrets. Just like everybody lies.”

I’ve wanted you in my bed since I was sixteen years old.
The thought popped into his head, sudden and unexpected, a secret even from himself.

“What?” Liv asked.

“Nothing.”

She nudged him with an ice-cold foot. “You thought of something. I could totally tell.”

“Yeah.” Panic made his voice thick, but there was nothing to do but keep going. “I was thinking that if you don’t shut up, I’m never going to get to sleep.”

“Nice try, Captain Integrity, but I don’t buy it.”
 

He held silent. There was no reason to panic. She couldn’t
make
him talk.
 

“Okay. If you don’t want to tell me, I’ll guess. Let’s see. What don’t you want me to know?” She was silent for a moment, except for her teeth, which were clacking together. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”

It hadn’t gotten any warmer in the room, but he started to sweat.

“You’ve been—”

“Come here.” He pulled her against him, and the rest of that sentence he was afraid to let her finish transformed into a surprised squeak.

“
Damn
.” He sucked in a breath as her ice-cold palm met his shoulder. “You really are freezing. You need to get some body fat.”

“You say the sweetest things.” She plastered herself against his chest like he was her personal heat lamp. “Not that I’m complaining, but how can you possibly be this warm?”

How could he not when she was there, as close as a second skin? At least she’d stopped digging for his secret.

“I’ve always run hot,” he said.

She relaxed against him, all the tension draining from her body to make room for sleep. “I was wrong, you know.”

“About what?”

She yawned. Her voice grew softer. Slower. “What I said before. About you being a good liar.”

He tensed, but she was silent, her breathing deep and even against his chest. Just as he’d decided she was asleep, she spoke again. “You’re a terrible liar, Captain Integrity. But don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

She snuggled closer. A distant part of him wondered what she meant. But it was hard to worry with her breasts soft against his chest. Even as she slept, one hand gripped his shirt, like she was afraid someone might be coming to take him away.
 

He knew she only wanted him for his body heat. Knew he couldn’t let himself have her even if she did want more.

Still, he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest. Traced the soft curve of her cheek with his gaze and committed it to memory. In one week, Ella would be married and their charade would be over.
 

But, for tonight, Liv was his. And he’d have the memory of the way she felt in his arms forever.

T
HE
ORGANIST
LAUNCHED
into the first chord of Wagner’s Bridal Chorus, and Liv straightened, trying to shake off her nerves. It was the moment of truth.

She shrugged off the shawl she’d been huddled under all morning as she and the other bridesmaids had their hair and makeup done, took the limo to church, and gathered in the vestibule they were using as a staging area.

Heather saw it first. Her eyes widened, and she looked from the tattoo to Ella, then back again.

Ella took a break from adjusting her tiara, following Heather’s gaze toward Liv. She sucked in a breath. “What on earth is
that
?” She wet a finger in her mouth and scrubbed at the tattoo.

“Ow!” Liv pulled away. “It’s real, okay? It’s not going to come off.”

“You got a
tattoo
?” Ella stared at the ink, eyes wide, like it was her first glimpse of the new David Lance collection at Fashion Week. “Wow. When you finally commit, you do it for real.”

“I—”

“Girls?” The high, nervous voice of the wedding coordinator saved Liv from replying. “It’s time to begin the processional. You first, Olivia.”

“Don’t walk too fast,” Ella hissed. “And for the love of Godiva chocolate, don’t slouch. Remember what we practiced.”

“Got it.” For once, Ella’s micromanagement didn’t give Liv the urge to throw down. Ella had already forgotten about the tattoo. With any luck, the rest of the family would find it similarly unimportant.

Liv held her head high as she entered the nave. Caleb was waiting for her at the end of the peach silk runner, and
damn
. He was wearing the hell out of that tuxedo.

He took her arm, and the remaining vestiges of her nerves vanished, even as the inevitable whispers started. Claire let out a surprised laugh that she quickly cut off. Nonna Hazel stood to get a better view.

Liv didn’t falter. She let Caleb lead her, strong and smooth and full of purpose, to their places on either side of the altar.

The whispers were almost as loud as the organ, but there were only two people whose reaction Liv cared about. She held her breath as she scanned the peach-silk-covered pews, finding her parents at the far end of the front row. Her dad shook his head as he surveyed the ink, but he looked affectionately exasperated rather than truly angry. Her mom caught her eye and winked.

And then Uncle Alberto was escorting Ella down the aisle, and no one was even looking at Liv anymore.

Four months of worry, and the big reveal had gone without a hitch.

*

“There you are. I must talk to you.” Nonna Hazel grabbed Liv’s arm, pulling her away from the waiter before Liv could grab a goat cheese tartlet from his tray.

Liv’s stomach growled in protest. She hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch, too nervous about her parents’ reaction to the tattoo. Now that she no longer had to worry, she was ravenous. “One second, Nonna. I really need to eat something.”

“Not one second! Now!” Nonna clamped down tighter on Liv’s arm.

“Ow! Okay.”

Nonna pulled her across the tent to a deserted nook behind the wedding cake, moving so fast Liv spilled half her Peach Bellini. Liv massaged her wrist. Nonna might look frail, but there was nothing wrong with her grip strength.
 

“What’s up?” Liv asked.

Nonna shook her head, her gaze falling to Liv’s left arm. “Oh, Bella. What have you done?”

The tattoo. She should’ve known there would be
some
fallout.
 

She took a sip of her drink as an excuse to think over her response. The last thing she needed was Nonna stirring her parents up. “I know it’s a bit…nontraditional. But lots of people are getting tattoos these days.”

“I know. I know. You young people get the tattoos of the Sanskrit letters or the Carpe Diem. But you do not write the name of your love on your skin. Everyone knows this is bad luck!”

Liv stifled a laugh. “It’s okay, Nonna. Nothing bad has happened. I promise.”

“Not yet!” Nonna said, in the same spooky voice she used when she predicted the future. “But your relationship will have terrible trials. I see how much you love Caleb, and I fear you will lose him.” She grabbed Liv in a hug. “My poor, poor Bella.”

Liv breathed in the scent of roses and baby powder, and shivered.
 

“What’s wrong with Livvy now?” Matt asked cheerfully.

Nonna Hazel let go of Liv, and the shaky feeling disappeared, along with the overpowering stench of Nonna’s perfume.

“Bad luck,” Nonna pronounced ominously, pointing at the tattoo, but with Matt grinning his she’s-crazy-and-I-love-it grin, the spooky voice lost its power. Now that Liv thought about it, Nonna’s superstition was a stroke of luck. When she and Caleb broke up, she’d have something to blame it on.

“Come on, Nonna.” Matt said. “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

Nonna rubbed the
cornicello
charm on the silver chain that hung from her neck—the one she’d once told Liv she wore as protection from the evil eye. “Is the truth.”

“So you have scientific evidence to back it up?”

“I do not need this scientific evidence. I
know
. The same way I know that your love will come, soon, back into your life.”

“My
what
?” Matt swallowed abruptly.

“The woman you will marry.” Nonna Hazel smiled serenely, patted Matt on the shoulder, and wandered off towards the bar.

Matt stood there like he couldn’t remember how to move, and the longer Liv watched him the more uneasy she grew. “What’s wrong, Matty? Since when do you buy into Nonna’s crazy I-can-see-the-future act?”

“I don’t.” He chugged half his beer. “It’s that voice. When she uses that I’m-talking-to-the-spirits voice it’s like I’m five years old, sleeping with the light on so Nonno Augusto’s ghost doesn’t come for me.”
 

“Well, you’re twenty-three now. I think you’re safe.”

“Yeah.” Matt tipped his beer back again, surveying the crowd warily, like he expected this mysterious woman Nonna Hazel had mentioned to materialize in the middle of the crowded dance floor.

Liv frowned. “Is there…someone specific you’re worried about?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Then relax. But maybe stay away from the bridesmaids. Ella’s friends are as crazy as she is, and they all want to be married yesterday. That bouquet toss is going to be worse than the David Lance sample sale.”

“Don’t worry about me.” Now that he’d finished his beer, Matt sounded like himself again. “Concentrate on yourself. What are you gonna do to counter your bad tattoo juju? Maybe I should get you a
cornicello
necklace like Nonna’s. You can be twins.”

“Pass.” She slanted him a superior smile, pretending she hadn’t been as freaked out by Nonna’s performance as he’d been. “I don’t need a
cornicello
. This tattoo has brought me nothing but good luck.”

*

Caleb should have been relieved. He was sitting between Rafe and Alex, finishing his second beer, with only a few more hours of the reception to get through. Then one more night in a hotel room with Liv, and he’d be a free man.

But instead of planning his next date with Joslyn, his gaze was locked onto the dance floor, where Liv was rocking out to a popular eighties song. She closed her eyes, threw her head back, and moved where the music took her, wild and free and beautiful. When was the last time he’d let himself go like that?

Never. He couldn’t allow himself that kind of freedom.
 

But he could watch Liv and imagine what it would be like. The adrenaline flowing through him, better than any drug. He’d pull her close, and—

Shit
. He jerked his gaze away.

“Drink this. Immediately.” Matt set a full pint glass in front of him.

“Thanks, Voretti.”

He reached for the lifesaving alcohol, but Rafe got there first. “That was supposed to be my beer.”

Matt shrugged. “Caleb looked like he needed it more than you.”

“Actually, Caleb doesn’t need it.”

At the sound of Liv’s voice, Caleb jumped. The flimsy chair he was sitting in decided to refold itself, and he barely managed to grab it before it hit the floor. He leaned against the back, affecting an I-meant-to-do-that pose, but the Voretti brothers were howling with laughter.
 

“All right there, buddy?” Rafe grinned at Caleb over the pint glass he’d stolen.

“Fine.” Caleb hurled a string of mental curses at the chair. Then a few at himself. He didn’t have to let Liv affect him this way.

“Well, you’re about to be a lot better.” Liv grabbed his hand. “C’mon, stud. It’s time to get your groove on.”

“Sorry, Livvy.” Matt smirked. “Caleb doesn’t have a groove.”

“Everybody has a groove.”

“Not me.” Caleb grabbed Rafe’s beer with his free hand—desperate times—and took a gulp. “I don’t dance.”

“Nice try. But I saw you dancing with Nonna.”

“You don’t say no to Nonna Hazel.”

“You don’t say no to me, either.” She shouldn’t have had the upper body strength to do it, but she somehow managed to haul him a step closer to the dance floor. “Come on. Show me what you’ve got.”

“Seriously. I don’t dance.” He tried to pull away, but her grip got tighter.
 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re strung way too tight?”

“You. Every day.”

“I make a good point.”

Rafe grabbed his beer. “Sorry dude, but you’re not getting out of this. Livvy loves to dance.”

Caleb gave his friend a dirty look, but Rafe was too busy drinking beer and chortling to notice. “One dance,” he told Liv. “And don’t expect any crazy moves.”

She tugged him toward the dance floor. “Don’t worry. I just want you to be yourself out there.”

Something about the way she said it gave him pause. But there was no time to figure out what she meant because they’d reached the dance floor.
Get Lucky
was blasting from the speakers, but instead of getting down to the beat, Liv rested her hands on his shoulders and swayed.