The reprimand in his voice was loud and clear, and I had no choice but to look away. He was right. My role as a Moretti daughter was written in my blood long before I was born. It wasn’t a fate chosen for me, but rather a destiny I had been chosen for. I had learned this many years ago, and even though I acknowledged the fear, I had to embrace my position as the eldest daughter. If I didn’t, this fate would fall upon my younger sister—a fate I would rather drown in than see it become her curse.
I pushed aside my apprehension and lifted my chin, grasping at every ounce of strength within me. “I’m ready.”
Chapter Two
I balled my fists as I stood in the front of the church, staring out over the one hundred guests, of which only thirty were close friends and family. The rest were all here to sit in the decorated pews and watch the spectacle and witness the merging of two families. A motherfucking business transaction that took place before God. But they didn’t know the secrets behind it. Family secrets. Moretti secrets.
Not only was this arrangement ridiculous, but my father just had to add insult to injury by choosing a Moretti girl to be my wife. It was like he just woke up one day thinking, ‘How can I fuck up my son’s life today? Oh, yes, let’s have him get married, and let’s choose a Moretti daughter to be his wife.’
He knew how I felt about Emilio Moretti and everything he stood for. The man was a greedy son of a bitch, a fucking menace who should have been buried years ago. He was the embodiment of everything wrong in this fucking world, but according to my father it was a business merger that could not be avoided. One that would only strengthen our family. I disagreed, but here I was, a hypocrite dressed in a motherfucking Armani tuxedo, and moments away from marrying his daughter.
I glanced at Darion, who stood next to me with a grim expression that almost matched mine. My younger brother and I shared the same ink-black hair with our trademarked Sicilian skin tone. Three years younger than I was, I had the height advantage when it came to my brother—a fact I liked reminding him of whenever I felt the need to piss him off.
Darion shifted from one leg to the other and glanced in my direction. “Smile, brother, it’s a wedding.”
I scoffed. “It’s a goddamn charade.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a charade we need to get through without drama.”
“It’s a fucking exhibition, that’s what it is. An exhibition of two families who think respect and power are negotiated, rather than earned or demanded.”
He straightened his black tie. “If it’s an exhibition as you say, let’s be thankful the Moretti girl has a pretty face, at least.”
“Her pretty face doesn’t deter from the fact that she’s a Moretti.” I straightened the sleeves of my Armani tuxedo. “If father had any pride left in him, he wouldn’t have even considered any sort of entanglement with the Morettis.”
“He wants to merge our families, Gian. We are two of the most influential families in New York, each with their own successful shipping company.” Darion glanced my way. “Imagine what a powerhouse we’d be once the companies merge.”
“And now you suddenly agree with this arrangement after you had a mouthful to say about it when father first broke this news to us?”
“I don’t agree with it, no. If I could, I’d help you storm out of this church and run your ass to Italy. But you and I both know you’ll never defy Father, no matter what he expects of you.”
“Don’t start, Darion.”
“Hey, I know, brother,” he chimed in. “You’re the crown prince, and one day you’ll take father’s place at the table. And this is a sacrifice you have to make.” His gaze met mine. “Right?”
For a moment, I was sure it was a challenge that flashed in his dark brown eyes. Like when we were kids, the times he would dare me to do something that would get me in trouble, and me getting in trouble meant him slithering his way into our father’s good graces for a while.
I rolled my eyes just as the piano started the slow tune of Canon in D, the guests all rising to their feet. My appreciation for fine music eased some of the tension that rolled in my shoulders. As the cello joined the ballade, it formed the perfect fusion of classical notes and heavy strings. It was a beautiful sound only to be wrecked by the reality of why we were all here.
First, Emilio Moretti appeared, his gray beard unable to hide the smug look on his face. The bride’s father dressed in a black tuxedo as if it could conceal the fucking insect he truly was. Then my bride-to-be stepped in next to him, layers of lace hugging her tiny waist, flaring out into an elegant ball gown, with her face hidden behind an exquisite embroidered veil suited for a princess. Her shoulders were squared, her every step confident as elegance radiated off her. Daniela Moretti caught the eye of every boy whenever there was a social gathering that required all family members to attend. But over the years no one could come near her. Emilio made sure she was never in the public eye too much, a move I now recognized as a way to keep her untouched and a worthy trade for when it would suit him most.
I clasped my hands and widened my stance while watching Emilio escort his daughter down the aisle. As they approached, I had to suppress the need to either storm out in a theatrical display to cause a stir or put a bullet in his fucking head.
Emilio leaned closer to Daniela, whispering something in her ear. What could a father possibly say to a daughter he was trading like cattle?
Through the veil, I could see Daniela show no reaction to her father’s words, a prized performance by a loyal daughter. Emilio nodded in our direction, a subtle acknowledgment of his approval. I couldn’t hide my disdain by pretending to welcome his blessing. This union made a mockery of something sacred, and it placed a curse on the Silvestro name—something I didn’t take kindly to.
Daniela stepped up to take her place in front of the priest, her small frame held with pride. I couldn’t help but wonder which thoughts occupied her mind, knowing she had no control over what was about to happen. I’d be a liar if I said the idea of playing God over a woman’s life didn’t stir something within me. Entice me. But that was precisely the part of me I had worked so hard to suppress and ignore. Something I spent night after night cloaking with secret endeavors.
The priest started the formalities, preaching about the beauty of matrimony while we stood and listened. Father Francesco had been on our family’s payroll for as long as I could remember. Numerous priests who had roamed these poorly ventilated halls that smelled like candle wax and Murphy’s Oil Soap were paid employees of the Silvestro family. They wouldn’t have been able to hide their indiscretions if it weren’t for the influence of our community. Another thing I’d be changing the day I stepped up as head of the Silvestro empire. Dirty fuckers had no business fucking breathing.
I glanced at the bride, her striking red hair and her face barely visible through the thick lace of her veil. If she had felt any type of peace before, experienced contentment in any way up until this moment, I hoped she cherished it because after today it would all be gone. Daniela Moretti’s life would never be the same now that she had been given the Silvestro name. My name.