I click on the app. I frown. I’ve got two new messages, from her. The first is from days ago. I open it and start to read:
Hey, I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this. So, I’m just going to come out and say it. Like we were ever the type to hold back on here, right? ;).
Anyways, if this is too forward, ignore it. Or just tell me. I won’t be offended. Okay, here it is: I’m coming to the states. Don’t worry, it’s not to find you. I’m not a stalker, I promise. It’s just a last-minute family thing, for my grandfather. But anyways, I’m flying in tomorrow to New York. After that, I’m going straight on to Las Vegas for a night, because why not. But then I’ll be back in New York for about a week.
I know this is weird, and it might be pushing boundaries. I’m not even going to ask you where you are. We never asked before, and I won’t start now. But, if you’re anywhere near Vegas or NYC… would you want to meet? I mean really meet, face to face.
Look, I know we’re just chat buddies. Or, whatever. And I’m not saying I want to get married and have kids or anything. It’s just that I like talking to you. I like that I’m really and truly me with you. And I think you like talking to me, too. If a cup of coffee or a drink is in the cards for us, I think we should at least try.
Okay, that’s it. If this is too much, or if I’m freaking you out, you can totally just tell me. Hope to hear from you soon.
Xoxo, BabyBella99
I blink. I re-read the whole thing, four more times. My heart is racing. The dots are connecting, but I refuse to believe they are. Except it’s too much to ignore. The writing is right there on the wall in front of me.
I glance at the second message:
Hey, sorry to freak you out if I did. Vacay is going well. No pressure. Talk to you soon?
Holy fuck. BabyBella99 is Lucia. Lucia is BabyBella99. I’ve been talking to Lucia.
My heart races. My head fucking spins. I stand, my breath is panting. I sit again but then stand. It’s like I’ve been drugged. It’s like I see it all clearly now; like it alI makes sense. The same sass and wit. The way she pushes my buttons. And the black hair I’ve seen in her faceless photos is obviously a wig.
It’s Lucia. It’s always been Lucia. And now she’s getting fucking married.
I snarl and pace my floor. But suddenly, my temporary phone rings. It’s a text from Vincent: “Hey, let me know if the email came through. I’ve gotta turn my phone off.”
I close my eyes. I take a breath. I sit down at my laptop again and refresh my inbox. There it is: an email from Vincent. It’s got a movie file attachment with a note reminding me that he’ll be out of touch for the next hour in the wedding.
“Got it,” I text back.
There’s so much to process right now. There’s so much to take in. But this is my job. I try to push the revelation about Lucia aside and click play on the video. It’s long, so I start to fast forward through it.
But suddenly on the screen, a black SUV rolls up the back alley. Four guys in masks carrying guns charge out. They hit the backdoor and barge inside, off camera. The video has sound, too. I turn it up and hear a few shots thud from inside the bookie office. Right after, the masked guys come out and shove three guys to their knees.
I growl. It’s Johnny, Derek Vine, and Georgie.
One of the masked guys seems to be in charge. He pulls out a silver pistol and starts to aim it at the three guys.
“You have any idea who you’re fucking stealing from?” Georgie snarls.
“Goddamn right I do,” the masked leader chuckles.
I frown. I rewind a few seconds and turn up the volume before I play it again.
“Goddamn right I do.”
My brow furrows. How the fuck do I know that voice?
“You’re fucked, man,” Derek snaps on the video. “You can shoot us, but you’re fucked. Micheal? He’ll come after you, man.”
The guy with the silver pistol laughs. Suddenly, he whips off his mask.
Oh fuck.
“I hope he does,” Tomas Mendino growls on the video in front of me. I flinch when he shoots the three of them. My rage boils. My lips curl into a snarl.
This is who’s trying to hurt the Scaliami family. And he’s about to marry the heir to the fucking throne.
I call Vincent in a fury. It goes straight to voicemail. I call again, but it’s the same thing. Then I remember that there’s no fucking phones allowed in the church. I lunge from my desk and grab my shit. I load my gun and tuck it into my coat, then I charge out the door.
I’m not gonna let this happen. I tell myself it’s for the family, for work. But that’s not entirely true. I’m charging in there for my heart. I’m stopping this because Lucia is mine.
18
Lucia
“This will all be okay, topolina.” My grandfather pats my hand. His arm is hooked through mine, and we’re waiting right outside the doors to start down the aisle. The dress is gorgeous. The church, flowers, decorations, candles, and music are incredible.
I know this is what most girls dream of when they picture their wedding. No one imagines being blackout drunk in a “Chapel of Love” with a neon Elvis shooting craps on the sign above them. This right here is the fantasy wedding. But it’s all wrong.
It’s the wrong man.
I know, grandpapa,” I say quietly.
“I’m sorry, Lucia,” he sighs.
“I know.”
“Truly, I am.”
“Grandpapa, I know.”
He smiles halfheartedly at me when I glance at him. “Dominic is a good man.”
I close my eyes. “Grandpapa…”
“I am not blind, Lucia,” he says gently. “But we do what we must, yes?”
I nod.
“I’ve asked more of you for this than I have a right to ask. And for that I will be forever sorry, mi amore.”
I nod. I don’t speak or I might fall apart. The doors in front of us open. Candlelight and camera flashes wash over me. My grandfather takes my arm, and we start down the aisle. Up ahead, Tomas is just smirking at me. I hate the way he looks at me. When Dom looks at me, I feel desired. I feel alive. When Tomas does, I feel lusted over, in a creepy way. I feel like an object.
We walk down the aisle. When we get to the altar, my grandfather shakes Tomas’ hand. But it’s perfunctory. He hugs me and holds me close. Then, I’m face to face with Tomas.
He smirks at me. “Hey babe,” he grins.
Hey babe. On our wedding day, at the altar. I groan. My only consolation right now is knowing I have the memories of the few days with Dom. I glance down at my hand. I’ve hidden the ring from my grandfather. Before the wedding, at the photoshoot Tomas insisted on, I told him it was my mother’s ring that I was wearing. He seemed to not care.
I know I could shout out right now that I’m already married. It’s a room full of mobsters. But still. I am already married. Which means this can’t happen. But all that would do is get Dominic killed. It would definitely get him killed, actually. And then I’d be marrying Tomas anyways.
The priest begins to say the words. I brace myself. I tune everything out, until I hear the words I’ve been dreading.