“Ugh,” was all I managed to choke out before I felt Ettore’s body shake once in silent laughter.
Mortified at my reaction to this man, I peeked up at him with blazing cheeks to find him looking down at me with a smile so slight, I could have imagined it.
I had never been close enough to man to have shared little moments. But when he released my hand, brought his thumb to my pulsing, swollen lips and gently cleaned the smeared lipstick off of my lip line, the small, intimate act caused something odd to happen to me.
A piece of my broken heart began to repair itself. In that moment I thought, all things considered, it could be worse.
Yes, this marriage would forever have brutal roots, but if we were both willing, if we nurtured it, it could grow into something strong. Into something beautiful.
It was typical that at the very moment I found a splinter of hope in this impossible situation, I heard my sisters disturbingly ecstatic voice in my head.
We can ruin him, Vicky.
As if it were an admission of guilt, I searched for her at the bridal table. She sat watching me closely and I felt her gaze pierce my insides. She lifted her glass, sipping on bourbon. Anyone who looked at her then would find nothing untoward in her body language. I knew better.
Vincenza was furious.
One couple joined us on the dancefloor, then another, and soon, the reception became a lively event. And, yes, our families would never truly trust each other, but there was a certain amount of respect one had to offer.
I chanced a look at Ettore. He was an ominously handsome man.
I wasn’t the only one who felt a change in the air around us and we exchange a knowing look, our expressions turning somber and, together, we became solemn. This wedding was the least of our problems. Eventually, we would have to leave and go home together. Ettore now had to live with the woman who attempted a murder suicide in a church and I had a husband who…
No.
It hurt to even think it.
Marriages like ours were common in the ranks. I was under no assumptions that we would ever be more than glorified roommates. There would be no love lost between us and what I had attempted today meant there would also be no trust.
I knew what was expected of me. I would be seen and not heard. Under normal circumstances, I would have born Ettore’s children, but as I had learned, he already had three. He would be free to take on as many mistresses as he wished, so long as he kept them private, and I would be stuck in the prison that was his home, alone and lonely.
I wished things could have been different but I still counted myself lucky.
After all, not many people could shoot the capo ofMalocchioand live to tell the tale.
Chapter4
The importance of traditions
Vittoria
After our shared kiss,the evening wore on in a different bearing. The familiar sounds of chatter and boisterous laughter echoed through the hall. People drank and danced, and I yawned into the backs of my fingers.
I wasn’t sure what time it was, but I could sense it was getting late when a pretty woman approached, crouched between out chairs and said, “Okay, you two. You got through it. And believe me, there were moments I thought you wouldn’t so, you know. Good for you.” It was then that I noticed it was the same woman who had given me the five-minute warning before the ceremony. “Now, all that’s left to do is the smashing of the vase. After that, you can leave.”
My voice came out worn. “Smashing the vase?”
The woman blinked at me. “You don’t know? The two of you hold a vase together then throw it down on the ground, breaking it to pieces. The number of fragments on the ground are the number of years you’ll have together.”
My heart leapt. I straightened, looking between them and said, “Oh, we don’t have to do that. Do we?”
And the woman’s expression fell. “It’s tradition.”
God, was there anything I could do right?
I immediately backtracked. “Well, if it’s tradition…” the words faded out.
“It is,” she said excitedly. Smiling lovingly at Ettore, she leant in and pressed a kiss to his cheek before wiping the leftover lipsticks away with her fingers. “I’m proud of you.”