The Suite Life (18 page)

He insisted on a custom-made tux, and I didn't want to know how much of a premium he paid to ensure on-time delivery. He also had a four-day bachelor party in Monte Carlo with Franco, Gary, and ten of his closest friends. I didn't want to know what went on there, either.
Alec's going to do what Alec's going to do
. The words came to mind like déjà vu; they sounded at once
threatening and born of resignation when I'd first thought them. Now they just made me love him more.
Alec's going to do what Alec's going to do
.
But he comes home to me. He chose me.

I thought about Tony Kroon and how trapped he'd made me feel. I didn't want to be held back and I didn't want to hold Alec back, either—that's not why I was marrying him. I was marrying him because I trusted him to do right by me.

I looked at Alec,
my guy,
reading in bed, and my mind raced with all the terrible things that could go down in Monte Carlo . . . So I did what a girl does best: I tied him up, teased him, and tormented him until he begged for more—so he'd remember just who he was coming home to marry. The harder I rode to get him to climax the more convinced he was that it didn't get any better than sex with me.

The ceremony at Our Lady of Victory, with just Franco and Priti to attend to Alec and me, and the intimate reception at the DeMarco home in Brooklyn were just perfect. Filomena prepared a beautiful champagne brunch with the help of her friend Betsy, who also made my husband's first wedding cake: coconut and pineapple with homemade rum ice cream. There were about twelve of us at this very intimate gathering since the big wedding was to take place the following week. The house looked so festive. As Alec and I toasted to life and love, I truly felt that I was finally home. Thank God we didn't go with Alec's original plan to get hitched and head to the Yankees playoff game. That would've been a great wedding night.

I would have been happy to start our honeymoon immediately instead of waiting a week before the reprise in Bermuda, but, good wife that I now was, I did nothing to dampen Alec's enthusiasm for the decadent celebration he had planned down to the smallest detail and had looked forward to for weeks. It was all he could talk about in the limo on our way to his apartment after
the reception, gulping champagne he didn't need, and I was sure he wouldn't stop even when we got up to his—our—bedroom.

But I was wrong.

Alec went silent behind me just inside the door. I braced myself, expecting him to tear my dress off, scoop me into his arms, or toss me across a shoulder and throw me on the bed.

He placed his hands gently on my shoulders, twirled me around just as gently, and kissed me softly on the lips.

“Welcome home, Mrs. DeMarco.” He sighed, and I gazed into his dreamy eyes.

Then he reached into a deep pocket and pulled out a small rectangular box. “I've got a small gift for you,” he said, kissing me again and placing the box in my trembling hands.

“C'mon, open it,” he said with a gentle smile.

I slipped the cover off and my smile, for once, was bigger than his at the sight of the diamond eternity band.

“I had been saving it for the ceremony in Bermuda, but I just couldn't resist giving it to you now. You deserve it, Sam, and so much more.”

I couldn't stop staring at the sparkling stones.

He swept me up into his arms and headed for the bed with his eyes locked on mine. “I'm going to make love to my wife for the first time,” he breathed.

We awoke on Sunday as Mr. and Mrs. DeMarco, and always-in-charge Alec delivered his first husbandly command as soon as his eyes opened.

“Resign from that job of yours first thing tomorrow morning,” he said. “Do it over the phone.”

“Yes, master,” I said, giving him a playful elbow.

For the first time in my life I wouldn't be responsible for supporting myself, and while in one sense that was a great relief, it was also a bit of a struggle for me to contemplate giving up total control of my future. It meant a lot to leave my job behind
and rely entirely on a man for income and security, but I'd always gone with my gut and I knew that, at this point in my life, I wanted to fully embrace the role of “dutiful wife” to my new control-freak husband. That said, however, it was still important for me to retain my own identity and to continue pursuing my writing. I could still be myself without a job, but not without what I considered to be my true and most important work.

Meanwhile, I got out of bed and took control of making breakfast.

We spent a lazy day at home with the Sunday papers in our laps and football games on the television. Alec handled some last-minute problem solving related to the Bermuda festivities, and I took some time to think about how much more time I'd have to write once I wasn't working anymore.

When we arrived in Bermuda the following Saturday, the weather was markedly cooler than it had been on our previous visit, but the sun was still there to greet us. We settled into the bridal suite, which was, of course, larger than the accommodations we had stayed in previously. The bathroom alone was more expansive than the Brooklyn apartment I had finally left behind for good.

The tab for another dinner at the Four Lanterns—Chateaubriand for two and a 1970 Château Lafite Rothschild Bordeaux that went down like grape juice for me—was also bigger than the already astronomical one we'd run up before.
I could buy a decent used car for the same amount he just added to his AmEx card!
After some fretting, however, I decided to leave all financial matters in my husband's capable and powerful hands.

The full-blown ceremony late on Sunday afternoon was straight out of a fairy tale. I arrived at the famous limestone cliffs where the ceremony would take place in a horse and carriage, with my maid of honor and Alec's two cousins, two
beautiful white horses in front. The weather couldn't have been better, and I couldn't help thinking that Grandma Ruth was still watching over me. The women in the wedding party wore gowns that matched the sand, and Alec and I repeated our vows under a virgin-white silk canopy overlooking the beach. As the bluish-green waves crashed seemingly after every sentence we uttered, it felt like I was in a dream, one so far away from my past, I could finally exhale. Again, I could have left for the honeymoon immediately, but there was still a blowout party to attend before my husband and I could finally make our getaway.

So instead of heading for the airport we went back to the hotel to change for the beach reception—for me, a simple white dress that was more like a slip or a nightgown, and for Alec, jeans with a button-down shirt. We checked our shoes at the shoe check, which had been my idea—the only one I was allowed—and made our way to the paradise seafront feast. There were restrooms disguised as palm-covered cabanas and bars were set up everywhere. The bay looked like a small corner of Polynesia, transported onto the sands of Bermuda. Colorful flower petals decorated the many overflowing hors d'oeuvre stations, where the guests were helped by attentive servers before settling down at tables warmed by a giant bonfire, to eat and drink while being entertained by mesmerizing fire dancers and a fierce limbo contest before they moved to take their seats for dinner.

Franco rose from his seat and, with the ocean at his back, made a toast about finding love and keeping it that brought a tear to the eye of his brother and everyone in attendance.

Alec drained his glass and wrapped an arm around me. “I love you, Sam,” he whispered, warming me more than the champagne I was sipping. He gave me a prolonged kiss and the crowd cheered anew, another public display from which I didn't recover until well into our first dance.

“You do look wonderful tonight,” Alec said with a huge smile, echoing the words of the Eric Clapton tune being played by a full orchestra.
I didn't remember ever picking a wedding song. Oh, well.

“I feel so special, Alec,” I whispered. “I don't know what to say.”

“That's okay with me,” he said, laughing. “I'll do all the talking.”

That's for sure.

When our wedding song ended we partnered with his parents for the next dance. Alec played to the crowd, steering Filomena around the floor, and I felt as secure with Giovanni as I had with Alec the night before.

“Thanks, Dad,” I said when it was over.

Giovanni gave me a peck on the cheek, and I made my way back to my seat. Alec was in his element, bouncing from table to table and accepting toasts right and left.

Priti leaned over and touched my hand. “Unbelievable,” she bubbled.

“Tell me about it, P,” I said. “Don't pinch me. I don't want to wake up.”

“Trust me,” she said, “you're a real princess now.”

But I'm also still Samantha, no matter what the last name is.
“I just hope I get the hang of being among royalty.”

“If it gets to be too much for you, you could always come back to your cubicle,” Priti said.

“No, thanks,” I said, and we shared a laugh as Giovanni slipped into his son's vacant seat.

“Nice to see you gals enjoying yourselves,” he said. “I can see I'm not needed here.”

“That couldn't be further from the truth, Dad,” I said. “You're one of the few people I know here and I love having you stop by.”

Giovanni waved an arm at the crowd. “There are more than a few people here who aren't strangers to you,” he said.

That was true enough. John was nearby and I was glad for the handful of others who didn't make me feel like a guest at my own wedding. But I wondered if I'd ever be on a first-name basis with men like the two with whom Alec was lost in conversation, Grigor Malchek, the CEO of the New York Stock Exchange, and Senator Robert Ross.

Giovanni squeezed my hand and kissed my cheek. “I'll give some others a chance to stop by,” he said, rising.

“You sure hit the jackpot with him,” Priti said.

“I'm blessed, P.”

“Tell me about it,” she said, and we shared another laugh.

Alec came back to my side as each course was served, and a procession of visitors filled his seat whenever he rejoined the ongoing revelry. I was particularly glad when Betsy and Sid came, because I already had warm feelings toward them.

“Holding it together?” Betsy said, resting a hand on my shoulder.

“Sure, although I will admit it's a bit overwhelming.”

“You'll get the hang of things in no time,” Betsy said. “We knew the minute we met you that you were as sharp as Alec said you were.”

“Talented, too,” Sid added. “I was really impressed when I heard you were a writer.”

“Thanks,” I said, genuinely meaning it.

“We'll have you and Alec over when you get back,” Betsy said as she started to leave. “We'll chat a lot more then.”

At that point, Victor left the scrum of guys whooping it up at the bar and came back to our table looking for his wife.

“Where's Sofia?” he asked.

“I think she went to the ladies' room,” I replied, as I looked away, not particularly interested in striking up a conversation
with him. It wasn't that I didn't like Victor, or Sofia for that matter. I just thought they were typical of the type clawing their way up the financial ladder, which admittedly wasn't so different from what Alec appeared to be doing.

Victor, however, didn't take the hint and sat down beside me. “Gotta hand it to Alec,” he began. “The guy really knows how to throw a party.”

“Thanks,” I said drily, looking around for an out to this conversation.

“You two make a great couple,” Victor continued.

“Thanks again.”

“I'm serious, Sam,” he insisted. “Every successful guy needs a good woman to stand behind him, and Sofia and I think you've got what it takes to help Alec go all the way. We're ready to help you any way we can. Alec has an awful lot on his plate and that can be hard for a wife to handle.”