That's Amore! - Janelle Denison [68]
They'd dated. He'd liked her. His family had been wildly enthusiastic—as had hers. Then for some unfathomable reason, he'd found himself putting a ring on her finger, wondering who the insane person was who'd taken over his vocal cords.
And she'd turned into Bride-zilla.
"Joe, it's your fault, you sorry sonofabitch," he muttered, knowing his older brother's blissfully happy marriage of one year and his wife's pregnancy had given Luke sappy visions of the same thing for himself.
"And yours, Tony." Oldest brother Tony was married, too. He and Gloria had two sons and promised the continuation of the Santori way of life, right down to Tony managing the family pizzeria for their Pop.
A guy passing on the sidewalk paused and gave him a strange look, obviously having heard him talking to himself on a public street. Luke merely shrugged. "I'm getting married."
The guy nodded, an expression of understanding—and sympathy—appearing on his face. As he began to walk away again, he muttered, "Three words of advice: run like hell."
Run? Run out on Maria?
Well, that didn't sound so bad. Particularly since he barely recognized the demanding, shrill woman she'd become in the past couple of weeks, so unlike the quiet, traditional, soft-voiced one he'd dated at first.
But running from her father, affectionately called Chicago's godfather by folks in the neighborhood?
Suicide.
Luke knew Rudy wasn't really mafia. But he was old school, meaning, easily insulted and not very forgiving.
This errand to the bridal shop was a prime example of Maria's irrational behavior lately. She couldn't make her fitting tomorrow—yet another dental appointment like so many others she'd been going on recently. The woman was going to have more crowns than the Windsors if she kept on at this rate.
But instead of calling the dressmaker to reschedule, she'd begged Luke to go to the shop in person to let them know about the cancellation, claiming the shop owner didn't like her. Which was why he was now strolling down the block from his parents' restaurant—where he'd stopped, as he often did, for a beer after work—toward the boutique.
From what Mama said, the shop owner would likely still be there, working her fingers to the bone. The Santori clan had all but adopted the newcomer to the area, which surprised him, since the sweet-faced little southerner was so unlike his mother, sister or sisters-in-law. But for some reason, Rachel Grant was practically all the women in his family talked about these days.
Probably because they were all too nice to talk about what was really on their minds: his upcoming marriage to a diva who made Cher look like a sweet, selfless girl-next-door.
"What have I gotten myself into?" he whispered, shaking his head as he again mulled over the mess he'd made of things.
When he pushed the door open and saw the curvy blonde dressmaker in the arms of a beefy guy in a brown suit, he figured his day had gone from bad to worse. Bad enough he'd just acknowledged he might be facing a marriage without passion.
Much worse, he'd apparently walked in one someone else's amorous moment.
CHAPTER TWO
LUKE STIFFENED when he entered the store and saw Rachel Grant being held by another man. Anything would be better than walking in on a lover's tryst when his own love life had been pretty damned barren lately, so he'd expect a little discomfort. Not anger. Since he was only casually friendly with Rachel, seeing her in another man's arms couldn't have been what made his blood start pounding hard in his temple and something like fury seethe through his veins.
Wondering for a brief moment what on earth would have