31
Mia
Six Months Later
“I, Antonio Lucio Moretti, take you, Mia Gallo, to be my wife.”
We stand opposite each other, Antonio in a bespoke three-piece charcoal suit and bow tie. My dress is a Valentino that was offered and fitted for me—guess that’s the benefit of long-standing connections within the city. It’s off-the-shoulder style with an A-line shape, in a clean satin fabric. I felt the clean finish was straightforward and bold, just how I wanted to be seen. The only lace is within the cape veil that flows from the back of my shoulders and trails along the floor. My hair is pinned up in a nest of curls, with the odd tendril tickling my neck. My jewelry is Tiffany’s, a simple oval pendant made of sapphire surrounded by diamonds, with matching earrings of sapphire hanging from a string of diamonds.
Over the last six months, I’ve truly become a part of this family. I of course moved into the fabulous master bedroom with Antonio, spending early mornings on the balcony and late mornings reading in that armchair at the corner of the room. I’ve even got Aunty Zia wrapped around my little finger now–once she realized that I insist on helping prepare food in between my meetings with the men.
She actually helped with a lot of the wedding planning, in the end. We’ve set up two massive white tents in the garden. One on a large temporary deck next to the lakeside, where we stand now and recite our vows. The second tent is on the other side of the house, where waiters and caterers are running around preparing for the reception party. The tents are both trimmed with twinkling lights, curtains of crystal beads in some places, and lots of small white flowers that make it feel like we’re truly in a fairy forest.
We’re holding hands in front of the same priest that helped dispose of the countless bodies in his incinerator and probably many more. And it’s knowledge of those types of facts, those insights into the family business, that make me feel that Antonio trusts me completely, as his partner and wife. The lakeside reflects nothing from the violence it was forced to host during the attack. Much like ourselves, with our clean faces and nice clothes, and how could anyone picture us any different? As it goes, the blood doesn’t stain. There’s something ultimately telling about that, how beauty, pain and power can all stem from the same source. And Antonio, as I look onto him, is all the above. “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.”
Behind me, my father sits in the front row. After some convincing that this is truly what I want for myself, I managed to have him walk me down the aisle today. Even having a whole new family doesn’t take away from the fact that my father is my only living blood relative. That he put his anger and hatred for the Moretti family aside, at least for the day, is more than I ever expected from him. It makes me the happiest woman alive to have him backing me, and Antonio by my side.
Our eyes are locked, the rush of energy that has fueled me ever since meeting Antonio only grows stronger, absorbing greater power from all the sources that surround us. From the hundreds of eyes that are watching us, all of them with an underlining respect that is showered onto us, our vows are not just to each other but to our rule over this side of the city.
“And I, Mia Gallo, take you, Antonio Moretti, to be my husband.” Yes, my husband who sits on the throne, that notion alone invigorates me. The rest of my verbal contract flows from my mouth with such ease. I look up to the man I’m committing my life to and become hypnotized, lost in his green eyes.
Yeah, I think. This is a match made in heaven.
* * *
. “Saluti!”
Antonio and I are standing off to one side of the reception tent as the guests enter, each one greeting us with cheek kisses and proud pats on the back, doting on us with respect and happiness
“Antonio and Mia Moretti, we wish you a lifetime of happiness.” Alfonso Rossi, the father of the Rossi family, tells Antonio, now my husband.
“With your arrival at the head of the Moretti table, and with a queen by your side,” the old man gestures to me with a charming twinkle in his eye, “it symbolizes a change in the tide, and I hope that the ties between our two tables finally grow stronger, as was the wish of your father.”
“Mr. Rossi and my father had long agreed that Fiona should marry Mr. Rossi’s son, Frederico.” Antonio whispers in my ear as the old man finds a seat. I raise my eyebrow to the idea of the arrangement. “It may be an old-fashioned idea, but strengthening the relationships between us through marriage, to create actual blood ties is the only reason we, as an organization, still exist.”
“And how much longer do we have to entertain these old fools?” I whisper back, reaching my hand around his waist. “When will I be able to have a sit-down with my husband?”
“Soon enough,” he says, then we both turn to find my father as the next guest in line.
“Congratulations, to you both.” My father tells us, shaking Antonio’s hand. “Would you mind if I take a moment to talk to my daughter?”
Antonio tightens his lips, politely positions them into a smile, “Stefano, your daughter is a Moretti now, and you are her father. You will get nothing but respect from my house. Please understand that.”
“Thank you,” my father says, then turns to me. “Do you mind?”
We link arms to take a stroll to the lake’s edge, where there’s quiet and privacy. Little does my father know of the memories that occupy my mind of this place, of afternoon talks, the very first time Antonio and I had a real conversation about ourselves and our lives.
“It’s hard for me to see you with him,” he admits to me.
“Papa, please.”
“No, hear me out.” He holds a hand up, gesturing for me to ‘wait for it’. “It’s hard for me, but I respect your decision, Mia. I can see you are happy, happier than you ever were at the bookstore or around Chad. It’s clear to me now… I might have taken you out of the city, but clearly, you always had the city in you!”
I scoff, “Very cliché, Papa.”
He laughs, then quiets down again to continue his speech. “I am happy in my small town, with my small bookstore. I only hope you’ll visit me, especially when there’s little bambino’s to spoil!”
“Hah! Hold your horses! We have a lot of time!”