His features soften. "Congratulations. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you, but I’m glad you respected Nonna’s wishes by getting married."
"I didn’t marry out of respect for Nonna, but because I wanted to, and unlike the rest of you married folk, I don’t plan to be pussy-whipped anytime soon." Whoa, didn’t expect for that to come out like that. That first part is a lie, but somehow, it doesn’t feel that way, which is strange. Time to figure this out later.
As I turn to leave, I hear Seb snicker. "Poor man, he has no idea, does he?"
39
Jeanne
I stand in the wings and watch Olivia go through the dance routine. The routine I rehearsed over and over again until I got it right. The people in the audience are friends and families of the cast and crew. As is tradition, we start the run in a new place with a soft launch day, with onlookers who are sympathetic toward us.
I should feel betrayed that she’s out there on stage instead of me, but all I feel is pride. Not sure when my emotions toward the situation turned—probably when she and Penny flew out at a moment’s notice to be there at my wedding. Probably because she was genuinely concerned about my marrying a Mafioso. She was looking out for me and was the only person to ask me if I was sure about what I was doing. She knows the circumstances in which I met Luca, and while she doesn’t know the real reason I agreed to marry him, she suspected I wasn’t revealing the full picture, and she didn’t judge me for it. She’s being a true friend, and for that, I’m grateful.
I step back from the wings and begin to go through the steps. I close my eyes, give myself up to the music, and allow my muscle memory to take over. I have rehearsed so often that, without conscious thought, my arms and legs move in tandem to the music.
As I dance, I allow myself to relive the last few hours... Luca stalked into the living room where I was chatting with the other women. With only a curt apology, he grabbed my arm, pulled me to my feet, and hauled me toward the exit. I wanted to protest, but the look on his face, the set of his jaw, and the coiled muscles of his body all warned me not to. So, I waved at the others, then allowed him to lead me to the car. He drove me to his home a few minutes down the road and informed me that all of my possessions had been moved in my absence. When I protested half-heartedly, he said that I’m his wife now. I stay in his house. End of discussion. Then he told me to get some rest and he’d drop me off at the theater for my final practice session.
I found my things in his room. He expects us to share a room? Of course he does. If we stayed in different rooms, the servants would speak, and word would get back to his brothers. And then our entire plan would be in jeopardy. At least he disappeared and didn’t show his face again until after I’d showered, napped and pulled on my yoga pants and T-shirt. When I headed downstairs, I found him waiting for me. He drove me to the rehearsal, told me he’d be back to pick me up, and then he left.
I’m both grateful not to have needed to make conversation with him, and nervous for the night… Which will be our wedding night. Will he expect this to be the night we consummate, as well? He didn’t mention anything or give me any sign that indicates so. But considering I committed to making this a real marriage in all possible ways, it’s realistic to think he expects to fuck me tonight.
My breathing grows shallow, and a sliver of heat slides down my spine. Will he be rough? Hewillbe rough. Everything I’ve learned about Luca points to the fact that he’ll be dominating in bed. He’ll position my body exactly the way he wants, he’ll touch me, squeeze me, bite me… lick me, eat me out, spank me… I swallow. He’ll take what he wants and ensure I love every second of it, too. That’s assuming he wants to fuck me after I told him that I could never be with him since he’s a criminal. But having gotten to know him better, those objections are quickly fading. Things aren't as black and white anymore. He may be a villain but... That only makes him so much hotter.
He may be a gangster, but he's my gangster.Mine.
And I can’t allow myself to sleep with him.
If I do, I’ll lose my heart to him, I have no doubt about it. And then I’ll never be able to walk away from him. I’ll be stuck in a marriage, in name only, unable to move on, while he’ll be bedding every woman who crosses his path. I assume.
No, no, I’m not going to think about that.
Focus on the music, on the movement of my steps. Focus on flowing into the rhythm my body knows so well. Focus on—
There’s a bang like a gunshot, and I lose my footing and hit the floor. I jump up at once. What was that? Where did it come from? The stage? I leap toward the wings, peek around the curtain, and find Olivia collapsed on the floor. She’s surrounded by the rest of the cast, who are looking on, stunned. I race onto the stage, push through the cast members, and reaching her, I feel for the pulse at her neck.
Half an hour later, I sink down into a seat in the waiting area of the hospital. Olivia was shot, but she was alive when they rushed her to the hospital. Penny and I accompanied her in the ambulance, then she’d been whisked away. Penny went off to get us some coffee and I was directed to this waiting area. I glance about the space. The walls are a dull yellow color. There’s a water fountain in the corner. A poster of a countryside on the wall. The seats are a faded blue and the tiles on the floor are silver with age.
I suppose I should call someone… But who? William messaged me to say he’d inform Olivia’s family, so that’s something. Something niggles at my thoughts; something of importance. I try to pin it down, but it disappears. Who could have shot Olivia? Why was she shot? Did it have something to do with the Mafia?
I place my hands in my lap, and line my feet parallel to each other. If I could just stay here quietly, maybe I could forget everything that happened. My fingers begin to shake and I squeeze them together. The golden-brown stone on the ring winks back at me. I stare at it.He couldn’t have done it, could he?Why would he? No, that doesn’t make sense. Tears prick at the backs of my eyes. Goosebumps pop on my skin. I hunch my shoulders, trying to stay warm. Heavy footsteps sound, then Luca bursts through the door. He lunges across the floor, and sinks to his knees in front of me. He stares at my face as if he can’t believe I’m here.
"Angel," his voice cracks. "Angel." His chest rises and falls. His face is so pale, the circles under his eyes stand out. His shoulders are coiled, his chest planes so rigid, I’m sure he’s going to crack open to reveal the Hulk I’ve always known he's hiding inside. A bead of sweat runs down his throat and into the demarcation between his pecs. He continues to breathe hard as his gaze eats up my features.
"Angel," he rasps. He drags his gaze down my throat to my chest. The color leaches from his face. He sways a little.
"Luca?" I frown. "Are you okay?"
"Am I okay?" His voice shakes. "Areyouokay?"
"Of course I am. What do you mean? I—" I glance down at myself and spot the blood that stains the front of my shirt. I had changed into the dress my character in the musical wears. Standard protocol for understudies.
"That’s not my blood. It’s… it’s Olivia’s, she…" The words stick in my throat. "She was—" To my horror, I begin to tremble. My teeth chatter, and I slide my hands between my thighs in a bid to stop my shaking. "I-I am so sorry, I—"
Luca wraps his arms around me and hauls me against his chest. My arms are trapped between us, and my breasts are trapped against my biceps. The tears I’d been holding at bay slide down my cheeks. I bury my face in his shoulder and allow them to flow.
40
Luca