I recited the words expected of me, and the priest blessed our rings.
Luca picked up my ring off the red cushion. My fingers shook like leaves in the breeze as I raised them, my heartbeat hummingbird quick. Luca’s strong hand was firm and steady as he took mine. “Aria, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger. White gold with twenty small diamonds. What was meant as a sign of love and devotion for other couples was nothing but a testament of his ownership of me. A daily reminder of the golden cage I’d be trapped in for the rest of my life. Until death do us part wasn’t an empty promise, as with so many other couples that entered the holy bond of marriage. There was no way out of this union for me. I was Luca’s until the bitter end. The last few words of the oath men swore when they were inducted into the mafia could just as well have been the closing of my wedding vow:
“I enter alive and I will leave dead.”
It was my turn to say the words and slip the ring onto Luca’s finger. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if I could manage it. The tremor rocking my body was so strong that Luca had to steady my hand and help me. I hoped nobody had noticed, but as usual Matteo’s keen eyes rested on my fingers. He and Luca were close; they’d probably laugh about my fear for a long time.
I should have run when I still had the chance. Now, as hundreds of faces from the Chicago and New York Famiglias stared back at us, flight was no longer an option. Nor was divorce. Death was the only acceptable end to a marriage in our world. Even if I still managed to escape Luca’s watchful eyes and those of his henchmen, my breach of our agreement would mean war. Nothing my father could say would prevent Luca’s Famiglia from exercising vengeance for making them lose face.
My feelings didn’t matter, never had. I’d grown up in a world where no choices were given, especially to women.
This wedding wasn’t about love or trust or choice. It was about duty and honor, about doing what was expected. A bond to ensure peace.
I wasn’t an idiot. I knew what else this was about: money and power. Both were dwindling since the Bratva had been trying to expand their influence into our territories. The Italian Famiglias across the US needed to lay their feuds to rest and work together to beat down their enemies. I should be honored to marry the oldest son of the New York Famiglia. That’s what my father and every other male relative had tried to tell me since my betrothal to Luca. I knew that, and it wasn’t as if I hadn’t had time to prepare for this exact moment, and yet fear corseted my body in a relentless grip.
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest said.
I raised my head. Every pair of eyes in the pavilion scrutinized me, waiting for a flicker of weakness. Father would be furious if I let my terror show, and Luca’s Famiglia would use it against us. But I had grown up in a world where a perfect mask was the only protection afforded to women and had no trouble forcing my face into a placid expression. Nobody would know how much I wanted to escape. Nobody but Luca. I couldn’t hide from him, no matter how much I tried. My body wouldn’t stop shaking and his grip on my hands tightened. As my gaze met Luca’s cold gray eyes, I could tell that he knew. How often had he instilled fear in others? Recognizing it was probably second nature to him.
He bent down to bridge the ten inches he towered over me. There was no sign of hesitation, fear or doubt on his face. My lips trembled against his mouth. My first kiss, if it could even be called that. His eyes bored into me, even as he pulled back. Their message was clear: You are mine.
Not quite. But I would be tonight. A shudder passed through me, and Luca’s eyes narrowed briefly before his face broke into a tight smile as we faced the applauding guests. He could change his expression in a heartbeat. I had to learn to do so as well, if I wanted to stand any chance in this marriage.
Luca and I walked down the aisle past the standing and clapping guests, and left the pavilion. Outside, dozens of waiters offered glasses of champagne and small plates with canapés. It was now our turn to accept the blessings and congratulations of every guest before we could move on to the tables and sit down for dinner. Luca took two glasses of champagne and handed one to me. Then he grabbed my hand again, and it didn’t appear as if he had any intention of letting go anytime soon. He bent down, lips brushing my ear, and whispered, “Smile. You are the happy bride, remember?”
I stiffened, but I forced my brightest smile onto my face as the first guests piled out of the pavilion and lined up to talk to us.
My legs began to hurt as we’d made it through half of our guests. The words directed at us were always the same. Praise for me on my beauty and congrats to Luca for having such a beautiful wife—as if that was an achievement—always followed by not-so-hidden hints about the wedding night. I wasn’t sure if my face remained as bright through all of them. Luca kept glancing at me as if to make sure I kept up the charade.
Bibiana and her husband were next. He was small, fat and bald. When he kissed my hand I had to stop myself from shuddering. After a few mandatory words of congratulations, Bibiana gripped my arms and pulled me toward her body to whisper into my ear. “Make him be good to you. Make him love you if you can. It’s the only way to get through this.”
She let go of me and her husband wrapped his arm around her waist, meaty hand on her hip, and then they were gone.
“What did she say?” Luca asked.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, glad for the next well-wishers who prevented Luca from asking more questions. I nodded and smiled, but my mind whirred around what Bibiana had said. I wasn’t sure if anyone could make Luca do anything he didn’t want to do. Could I make him want to be good to me? Could I make him want to love me? Was he even capable of such an emotion?
I risked a glance up at him as he talked to a soldier of the New York mob. He was smiling. Feeling my eyes on him, he turned, and for a moment our gazes locked. There was darkness and a burning possessiveness in his eyes that sent a shiver of fear down my back. I doubted there was a flicker of gentleness or love in his black heart.
“Congrats, Luca,” a high female voice said. Luca and I turned toward it, and something in his demeanor shifted ever so slightly.
“Grace,” Luca said with a nod.
My eyes froze on the woman, even though her father, Senator Parker, had started talking to me. She was beautiful in an artificial way with a too narrow nose, full lips and cleavage that made my moderate chest look like child’s play. I didn’t think any of it was natural. Or maybe my jealousy was talking. I dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come.
With a look in my direction, she leaned up and said something to Luca. His face remained a passive mask. Finally, she turned to me and actually pulled me into a hug. I had to force myself not to stiffen. “I should warn you. Luca’s a beast in the bedroom and hung like one too. It’ll hurt when he takes you and he won’t care. He doesn’t care about you or your silly emotions. He will fuck you like an animal. He will fuck you bloody,” she murmured, then she stepped back and followed after her parents.
I could feel the color drain from my face. Luca reached for my hand and I flinched, but he clasped it anyway. I steeled myself and ignored him. I couldn’t face him now, not after what that woman had just said. I didn’t care that it was required to invite her and her parents. Luca should have kept them away.