Caterina
Sofia and Ana did their best to keep my spirits up in the days leading up to my wedding. They even planned a “bachelorette” party for me, even though I’ve already been married once before. But Sofia firmly said that I needed an evening out, a night with my friends before my time was taken up with my new husband and my new home, and it was as good an excuse as any.
That meant a night out at my favorite spots—an Asian fusion restaurant I love and my favorite wine bar, as well as a slightly more lively bar with bespoke fancy cocktails to wind down the night. And it had worked—no one had mentioned the wedding, and for a little while, it had felt like old times, a night out with my friends with nothing to worry about and nothing to feel sad about. We’d laughed and drank, and when I’d come home, I’d fallen into bed and then woken up with a terrible hangover, which I’d nursed with a day in bed watching Netflix and eating Thai soup.
This morning, of course, reality has come crashing back in.
Ana won’t be at the wedding, Perhaps—it’s not safe for her to be there, and besides, it would bring up awful memories. But Sofia will be, and she’s with me now, helping me get ready before we head to the Orthodox Cathedral and my waiting groom.
It took everything in me to eat a little bit of breakfast, encouraged by Sofia so that I don’t pass out on my way down the aisle. She had mimosas sent up too, and I drink two of those quickly, trying to calm my rattled nerves in between bites of fruit and dry toast. I don’t know how I’m going to get through the ceremony, only that I have to, and somehow that will have to be enough.
Sofia helps me into my dress, and I try not to think about what’s under it, the pretty white lingerie that showed up on my doorstep in a fancy box from La Perla, a reminder of what will happen later tonight.
I keep reminding myself that I’m not a virgin, that this is nothing new, that I can get through a night with Viktor. But I can’t shake the cold ball of ice that’s settled in my stomach, sending shivers out over my skin every time I think about it.
Sofia efficiently buttons up the back of the dress, dozens of tiny buttons running from the nape of my neck all the way to the end of the long train. However, she only has to button them down my lower back. The dress is perfectly fitted, the full skirt adding curves that I’ve lost since I’ve gotten thinner in the past months, and Sofia turns her attention to my hair next, sweeping it up into an elegant, twisted updo that she secures with my mother’s filigree combs, pinning the veil in afterward.
“You look beautiful,” she tells me gently, and I force a smile, my hands trembling as I smooth down my skirt. I feel small and shaky, but I square my shoulders, stepping into my heels and taking a deep breath. With my mother’s pearls on and my hair and makeup done, there’s nothing left to do but get into the car and head to the cathedral.
I’m almost glad my mother isn’t here to see this. My father might have appreciated the business aspect of it, a bargain done up neatly and tidily. Although,I’m sure he would have preferred to keep spilling Bratva blood rather than make a deal with Viktor. But my mother would have been horrified to see me handed over to a Russian, to possibly have a future grandchild that was half-Russian, an heir to the Bratva even or destined to marry into it further. More than that, she would have been as terrified for me as I am for myself. She’d pushed me to accept the way of things when it came to a good Italian marriage, but she would have fought this tooth and nail.
It almost makes me wonder if I should have. But I can’t stomach the thought of any more war between our families, not if my marrying Viktor can end it. I think of my parents, of all the mafia and Bratva soldiers that have died, the staff in the hotel that was killed in the bombing that never asked for any of this. I think of poor Ana’s ruined feet, her destroyed career, and I know I could never live with myself if I refused Viktor and the bloodshed continued.
This is the only choice. And that’s what I have to keep telling myself.
The cathedral itself is stunningly beautiful. “St. Nicholas,” Sofia tells me as we approach, and I peer out of the limousine, looking at the Baroque architecture and grand, dome-topped towers atop it. It looks foreign to me, like no church I’ve ever been inside, and I take a deep breath as the limousine pulls up to the curb and the driver comes around to open the door for me.
Luca is waiting outside, and he gives me a tight smile as I walk up, Sofia going to stand next to him. “You look lovely, Caterina,” he says.
“Thank you.” I swallow hard, lifting my chin.
“Thankyou. You’re doing the Family, and me, a great service today. I know what a sacrifice this is for you, and—” he stops as Sofia lays a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Caterina.”
“There wasn’t much of a choice,” I say stiffly. “But I’m here, and I’m willing.”
“Ifanythinghappens, if you need me—all you have to do is call. I’m not abandoning you to them. I promise. You are Rossi’s daughter, just as you said. And whatever kind of man he was at the end, he was still my mentor and like a father to me. Iwillprotect you.”
“I know.” My voice is calmer than I feel. Deep down, I don’t know if Lucacanprotect me. I have no doubt he’d avenge me, but once this marriage is done, I’ll be in Viktor’s house, away from Luca’s eyes. There will be plenty of opportunities for Viktor to keep me away from the protection of Luca and the mafia as a whole.
I can only rely on myself, here on out.
“I’ll be near the front,” Sofia says reassuringly. “Look for me if you need anything.”
There’s no bridal party, and my father is dead, so I’ll be walking down the aisle alone. Sofia hands me my bouquet, white lilies tied with a silk ribbon, and I take a deep breath as I wait for them to go inside and then slowly start my walk up the stairs.
The music that starts to play as the doors open is unfamiliar. But I’m glad for it, in a way, pleased that this is so different from my first wedding. I can’t manage to banish it entirely from my thoughts. Still, it would have been so much harder to walk down the aisle with Father Donahue waiting there again, in the familiar church, with the familiar wedding march playing. This feels as if I’ve entered a different world—even the interior of the church itself, with its heavy wooden walls and the brightly red-draped altar, looks so very different.
And then, as I step foot on the aisle that will lead me down to my groom, I see him clearly for the first time, waiting for me at the end of it.
He’s more handsome than I realized.That’s my first thought as I catch sight of him, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed elegantly in a fitted suit with his dark hair combed neatly back away from his face. His face is sharp and stern, dangerously handsome. Although he’s greying at the temples, it only adds to his almost regal bearing.
Whatever the rest of the Bratva might be, this man is not a brute. He’s crisp, composed, a leader. This is a man who commands respect and fear, and I feel a shiver go down my spine as I take step after step towards him, my skin tingling with nerves and—something else?
I hadn’t thought he’d be so good-looking.He’s almost devastatingly attractive, and when he looks at me, his icy blue eyes meeting mine for the first time as I reach the end of the aisle, I’m grateful for the veil covering my face and my flushed cheeks. The tingle that runs through me this time, when his eyes meet mine, goes straight to my core and has nothing to do with fear.
No. I’m not going to think of him like that.I hate that I feel any attraction to him at all, that I looked at him and my first thought was that he was handsome. But heis, strong-jawed and tall, and when he takes my hand in his, that shiver runs through me again.I’m going to have to sleep with this man tonight.
I’d prepared myself to be a cold statue of a bride, to lay there and let him do as he wished until the marriage was legal, and then let him know how I felt about warming his bed any further after that. If he truly didn’t want to hurt me, then he’d have to acquiesce, and if he tried to force me, I could go to Luca. But as his palm rests against mine, the first hint of roughness about him in the calluses there, warming my skin, I start to wonder for the first time if I’ll feel some desire tonight.