“Your mother,” Bibiana said. “She wants to make sure you know what’s expected of you.”
“Expected of her?” Gianna hissed. “What about what Aria wants?”
“It is what it is,” Bibiana said bitterly. “Tonight Luca will expect to claim his rights. At least he’s good-looking and young.”
Pity for her kindled in me, but at the same time my own anxiety made it hard to console her. She was right. Luca was good-looking. I couldn’t deny it, but that didn’t change the fact that I was terrified of being intimate with him. He didn’t strike me as a man who was gentle in bed. My stomach lurched again.
Valentina cleared her throat. “Luca will know what to do.”
“You just lie on your back and give him what he wants,” Bibiana added. “Don’t try to fight him; that will only make it worse.”
We all stared at her, and she looked away.
Valentina touched my shoulder. “We’re not doing a good job of consoling you. Sorry. I’m sure it’ll be all right.”
Gianna snorted. “Maybe Mother should have invited one of the women Luca’s fucked to the wedding. They could have told you what to expect.”
“Grace is here,” Bibiana said, then she turned red and stammered, “I mean, that’s only a rumor. I—” She looked toward Valentina for help.
“One of Luca’s old girlfriends is here?” I whispered.
Bibiana cringed. “I thought you knew. And she wasn’t really his girlfriend, more like a plaything. Luca’s been with many women.” She snapped her mouth shut. I was fighting for control. I couldn’t let people see how weak I was. Why did I even care if Luca’s whore was at the wedding?
“Okay,” Gianna said, getting up. “Who the fuck is Grace, and why the fuck is she invited to this wedding?”
“Grace Parker. She’s the daughter of a New York senator who’s on the payroll of the mafia,” Valentina explained. “They had to invite his family.”
Tears blurred my vision and Gianna rushed toward me. “Oh don’t cry, Aria. It’s not worth it. Luca’s an asshole. You knew that. You can’t let his actions get to you.”
Valentina handed me a Kleenex. “You’ll ruin your makeup.”
I blinked a few times until I had a grip on my emotions. “I’m sorry. I’m just being emotional.”
“I think it’s best if you leave now,” Gianna said sharply, not even looking at Bibiana and Valentina. There was rustling and then the door opened and closed. Gianna wrapped her arms around me. “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. I swear it. I’ll take one of those fucking guns and put a hole into his head.”
I leaned against her. “He survived the Bratva and the Triad, and he’s the most feared fighter in the New York Famiglia, Gianna. He’d kill you first.”
Gianna shrugged. “I’d do it for you.”
I pulled back. “You’re still my little sister. I should protect you.”
“We will protect each other,” she whispered. “Our bond is stronger than their stupid oaths and the Omerta and their blood vows.”
“I don’t want to leave you. I hate that I have to move to New York.”
Gianna swallowed. “I’ll visit often. Father will be glad to be rid of me.”
There was a knock and Mother walked in. “It’s time.” She scanned our faces but didn’t comment. Gianna took a step back, eyes burning into me. Then she turned and walked out. Mother’s eyes zoomed in on the white lace garter on my vanity. “Do you need help putting it on?”
I shook my head and slid it up until it came to rest on my upper thigh. Later tonight, Luca would remove it with his mouth and throw it into the group of gathered bachelors. I smoothed down my wedding dress.
“Come,” Mother said. “Everyone’s waiting.” She handed me my bouquet, a beautiful arrangement of white roses, mother-of-pearl roses, and pink ranunculus.
We walked in silence through the empty house, my heels clacking on the marble floors. My heart pounded in my chest as we stepped through the glass sliding door onto the veranda overlooking the backyard and the beach. The front of the garden was occupied by the huge white pavilion where the wedding ceremony would be held, but behind the pavilion dozens of tables had been set up for the following feast. Voices carried over to me from inside the pavilion, where the guests were waiting for my arrival. A path of red rose petals led from the veranda toward the entrance. I followed Mother into the small room between the outside and the main part of the pavilion. Father was waiting and straightened when we entered. Mother gave him the briefest nod before slipping into the makeshift chapel. His smile was earnest when he offered me his arm. “You look beautiful,” he said quietly. “Luca won’t know what hit him.”
I ducked my head. “Thanks, Father.”
“Be a good wife, Aria. Luca is powerful and once he takes his father’s place, his word will be law. Make me proud, make the Outfit proud.”
I nodded, my throat too tight for words. The music started to play: a string quartet and a piano. Father lowered my veil. I was glad for the extra layer of protection, no matter how thin. Maybe it would hide my expression from afar.
Father led me toward the entrance and gave a low command. The fabric was pulled apart, revealing the long aisle and the many hundred guests to either side of it. My eyes were drawn to the end of the aisle where Luca stood. Tall and imposing in his charcoal suit and vest with the silver tie and the white shirt. His groomsmen were dressed in vests and dress pants of a lighter gray, and wore no jackets and bowties instead of ties. Fabiano was one of them, only eight and much shorter than the men.
My father tugged me along, and my legs seemed to carry me of their own accord as my body shook with nerves. I tried not to look at Luca and instead watched Gianna and Liliana from the corner of my eye. They were the first two bridesmaids, and seeing them gave me the strength to hold my head high and not bolt outside.
White rose petals covered my path and were squashed under my shoes. Kind of symbolic in itself, though I was sure it wasn’t meant to be.
The walk down the aisle took forever, and yet it was over too soon. Luca extended his hand, palm upwards. My father gripped the corners of my veil and lifted it, then he handed my hand over to Luca, whose gray eyes seemed to burn up with an emotion I couldn’t place. Could he feel me shaking? I didn’t meet his gaze.
The priest in his white frock greeted us, then the guests, before he began his opening prayer. I tried not to pass out. Luca’s grip was the one thing keeping me focused. I had to be strong. When the priest finally came to the closing lines of the Gospel, my legs could barely hold me up. He announced the rite of marriage and the guests all rose from their chairs.
“Luca and Aria,” the priest addressed us. “Have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage? Will you love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?”
Lying was a sin, but so was killing. This room breathed sin. “Yes,” Luca said in his deep voice, and a moment later my own “yes” followed. It came out strong and firm.
“Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.” Luca clasped my hands. His were hot against my cold skin. We faced each other, and I had no choice but to look up into his eyes. Luca spoke first: “I, Luca Vitiello, take you, Aria Scuderi, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life.” How sweet the lies sounded coming from his mouth.