“Father Illio. Up!” The man bangs on the lectern. “Let’s go!”
The hat rises almost comically behind the polished wood until the frightened old man’s eyes appear. They widen when they see the man with the rose.
“M-Mateo?” he asks.
“I’m here for the wedding.” The man takes my hand. “Let’s get on with it.”
He holsters his gun and turns to glare at me, his eyes narrowing. “I’d like to get a look at my bride before we seal the deal.” He reaches for my veil.
“Stop!” my father bellows.
The man—Mateo—turns and looks at him. “I’ll double Horatio’s bride price.” He says it so easily, as if he’s offering a few coins for a wayward child to toss into a wishing fountain.
“No!” my father yells but doesn’t move. Two men have their guns trained on him. Mateo seems to have brought a small army with him. All the biggest players in the city are here for my wedding to Horatio, their families at their sides. They didn’t come to the wedding armed. An oversight, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t capable of doing some damage. This man, Mateo, must have a death wish. There’s no way he’ll walk out of here alive, much less as my husband.
I blink through the fog of my shock and fear. Wait. Did … did he just offer …
“I’ll triple it, but that’s as far as I’ll go.” He holds my father’s angry stare. “I can marry her with or without your agreement, Leonard.” Mateo glances at the armed men all around the sanctuary, their guns at the ready. “And I’m happy to spill more blood if that’s what it takes.”
I try to dart down the steps, but Mateo catches me around my waist and yanks me to him, my back to his front. He holds me there, his arm like an iron bar across my waist as his other hand goes to my throat and squeezes.
“You aren’t going anywhere, princess,” he hisses in my ear.
I gasp and dig my nails into his hand.
He laughs, low and sinister. “Keep going. I’ll pay you back in kind.”
I freeze when he tightens his grip on my neck, stopping my air.
I stare at my father through the bloody veil, tears welling in my eyes. He doesn’t even look at me. Not once.
“Deal.” He backs up and sits next to my mother.
Mateo laughs again, the low sound rumbling through me as he lets go of my throat.
“Father?” I cry.
Mateo yanks me to him and snatches the bloody veil, lifting it and letting it fall behind my head.
“Daddy!” I scream again, using a name that hasn’t been on my lips since I was five years old.
“Don’t look at him.” Mateo grabs my chin and forces me to meet his gaze. “Look at me.” His eyes rake up and down, lingering for a brief moment on the bruise at my jawline. When his light blue eyes meet mine, something inside me goes cold. I don’t know this man, don’t know anything about him. It was the same with Horatio, but this … this is not Horatio. Horatio was typical—maybe even soft, maybe I could’ve learned to tolerate him—that’s what my mother said, anyway. But this man—he’s cold and hard. He murdered without a thought and intends to take me by brute force. I can’t let this happen.
“No.” My voice is a whisper as I cringe away from him.
He smirks, his full lips twisting up on one side. “Oh yes, princess.”
I try to take a step back, but he grabs my arm and pulls me around to face the priest.
“Make it fast, Father.” His grip tightens on me. “I’m a busy man.”
“Let go!” I try to yank free of his hold.
“Lucretia!” my mother cries.
I turn my head to look at her, to find some help. But all she does is give me the look I’ve seen my whole life—the one that says if I don’t quiet down and do as I’m told, the consequences will be painful. My heart turns to ash, the gray bits of it floating into nothing at my feet.
“Mother?” I choke on the word. “Please.”
“No one’s going to help you, princess.” Mateo pulls me to him, his eyes burning into me. “No one’s going to do a thing to stop me. Not your family, not a single person in this church, not even the priest. From this day forward, you are mine to do with as I please.” He smiles, the cruelty in it sending a chill down my spine. “A Fontana in my hands, to break as I see fit. I’ve looked forward to this day for a long, long time.”
“Let me go.” I hate the way my voice cracks, a sob rising in my throat.
“Never.” He takes my hand in a crushing grip and turns us to face the priest. “Get on with it.”