Bound by Honor: Chapter 5

The afternoon before the wedding day, my family moved out of the Mandarin Oriental and headed for the Vitiello mansion in the Hamptons. It was a huge building inspired by Italian palazzos surrounded by almost three acres of park-like grounds. The driveway was long and winding, and led past four double garages and two guesthouses until it ended in front of the mansion with its white front and red shingled roof. White marble statues stood at the base of the double staircase leading up to the front door.

Inside, coffered ceilings, white marble columns and floors, and a view of the bay and the long pool through the panorama windows took my breath away. Luca’s father and stepmother led us toward the second floor of the left wing where our bedrooms were situated.

Gianna and I insisted on sharing a room. I didn’t care if it made us look immature. I needed her at my side. From the window we could watch how the workers began setting up the huge pavilion that would serve as church tomorrow. Beyond it the ocean churned. Luca wouldn’t arrive until the next day so we couldn’t cross paths by accident before the wedding, which would mean bad luck. I honestly didn’t know how I could have any more bad luck than I already had.

***

“Today’s the day!” Mother said with fake cheer.

I dragged myself out of bed. Gianna pulled the blankets over her head, grumbling something about it being too early.

Mother sighed. “I can’t believe you shared a room like five year olds.”

“Someone had to make sure Luca didn’t sneak in,” Gianna said from beneath the blanket.

“Umberto patrolled the corridor.”

“As if he would protect Aria from Luca,” Gianna muttered, finally sitting up. Her red hair was a mess.

Mother pursed her lips. “Your sister doesn’t need protection from her husband.”

Gianna snorted, but Mother ignored her and ushered me into the bathroom. “We have to get you ready. The Beautician will be here any second. Grab a quick shower.”

As the hot water poured down on me, realization set in. This was it, the day I’d been dreading for so long. Tonight I’d be Aria Vitiello, wife to the future Capo dei Capi, and former virgin. I leaned against the shower cabin. I wished I were like other brides. I wished I could enjoy this day. I wished I didn’t have to look forward to my wedding night with trepidation, but I’d learned a long time ago that wishing didn’t change a thing.

When I stepped out of the shower, I felt cold. Even my fluffy bathrobe couldn’t stop my shivering. Someone knocked and Gianna entered with a cup and a bowl in her hand. “Coffee and fruit salad. Apparently you aren’t allowed to have pancakes because it could cause bloating. What bullshit.”

I took the coffee but shook my head at the food. “I’m not hungry.”

“You can’t go all day without eating or you’ll faint when you walk down the aisle.” She paused. “Though, on second thought, I’d love to see Luca’s face when you do.”

I sipped at the coffee, then took the bowl from Gianna and ate a few pieces of banana. I really didn’t want to faint. Father would be furious, and Luca probably wouldn’t be too happy about it either.

“The beautician has arrived with her entourage. You could think they need to prettify an army of fishwives.”

I smiled weakly. “Let’s not make them wait.”

Gianna’s worried gaze followed me as I walked into the bedroom, where Lily and my mother were already waiting with the three beauticians. They began their work at once, waxing our legs and armpits. When I thought the torture was over, the Beautician asked. “Bikini zone? Do you know what your husband prefers?”

My cheeks exploded with heat. Mother actually looked at me for an answer. As if I knew the first thing about Luca and his preferences, especially concerning body hair.

“Maybe we could call one of his whores,” Gianna suggested.

Mother gasped. “Gianna!”

Lily looked clueless about the whole situation. She might have been the queen of flirting but that was all.

“I’ll remove everything except for a small triangle, okay?” The beautician said in a gentle voice and I nodded, giving her a grateful smile. It took hours to get us ready. When our make-up was in place and my hair was pinned up in an elaborate updo that would later hold the veil and the diamond headpiece, my aunts Livia and Ornatella came in carrying my wedding dress as well as the bridesmaid dresses for Lily and Gianna. There was only one hour left until the wedding ceremony.

***

I stared at my reflection. The dress was gorgeous; the chapel train fanned out behind me, the platinum embroidery glittering wherever the sunlight hit it, and the empire waist was accentuated by a white satin ribbon.

“I love the sweetheart neckline. It gives you a breathtaking cleavage,” Aunt Livia gushed. She was Valentina’s mother.

“Luca will surely appreciate it,” Aunt Ornatella said.

Something on my face must have made my mother realize I was close to having a nervous breakdown, so she ushered my aunts out. “Let the three girls have a moment.”

Gianna stepped into view beside me. Her red hair contrasted beautifully with the mint dress. She opened the box with the necklace. Diamonds and pearls surrounded by intricate white gold threads. “Luca doesn’t spare any costs, does he? That necklace and your headpiece probably cost more than most people pay for their house.”

The conversation and laughter of the gathered guests carried up from the gardens through the open window into the room. Every now and then a clunk could be heard.

“What’s that noise?” I asked, trying to distract myself. Gianna walked over to the window and peered out. “The men are taking off their guns and putting them into plastic boxes.”

“How many?”

Gianna cocked an eyebrow.

“How many guns does each man put away?”

“One.” She frowned, then it dawned on her, and I nodded grimly. “Only a fool would leave the house with less than two guns.”

“Then why the show?”

“It’s symbolic,” I said. Like this horrid wedding.

“But if they all want peace, why not attend unarmed? It’s a wedding, after all.”

“There have been red weddings before. I saw pictures from a wedding where you couldn’t tell the color of the bride’s dress anymore. It was soaked in blood.”

Lily shuddered. “That won’t happen today, right?”

Anything was possible. “No, Chicago and New York need each other too much. They can’t risk spilling blood among each other as long as the Bratva and the Taiwanese pose a threat.”

Gianna snorted. “Oh great, that’s comforting.”

“It is,” I said firmly. “At least we know nobody will come to harm today.” My stomach twisted into a knot. Except for me, maybe. Probably.

Gianna wrapped her arms around me from behind and rested her chin on my bare shoulder. “We could still run. We could get you out of your dress and sneak out. They’re all busy. Nobody would notice.”

Lily nodded her head vigorously and got up from where she’d perched on the bed.

Luca would notice. I forced a brave smile. “No. It’s too late.”

“It’s not,” Gianna hissed. “Don’t give up.”

“There would be blood on my hands if I broke the agreement. They would kill each other in retribution.”

“They all have blood on their hands. Every single fucking person in the garden.”

“Don’t curse.”

“Really? A lady doesn’t curse,” Gianna mimicked our Father’s voice. “Where did it get you to behave like an obedient little lady?”

I looked away. She was right. It had brought me straight into the arms of one of the deadliest men in the country.

“I’m sorry,” Gianna whispered. “I didn’t mean it.”

I linked our fingers. “I know. And you are right. Most of the people in the garden have blood on their hands and would deserve to die, but they are our family, the only one we got. And there are innocents like Fabiano.”

“Fabiano will have blood on his hands soon enough,” Gianna said bitterly. “He’ll become a killer.”

I didn’t deny it. Fabiano would start his initiation process at twelve. If what Umberto had said was true, Luca had killed his first man at eleven. “But he’s innocent now, and there are other children out there as well, and women.”

Gianna fixed me with a hard look in the mirror. “Do you really believe that one of us is innocent?”

Being born into our world meant being born with blood on your hands. With every breath we took, sin was engraved deeper into our skin. Born in blood. Sworn in blood like the motto of the New York Cosa Nostra. “No.”

Gianna smiled grimly. Lily walked over to the bed and picked up my veil attached to the headpiece. I bent my knees so she could fix it atop my head. She gently smoothed it out.

“I wish you were marrying for love. I wish we could giggle about your wedding night. I wish you didn’t look so fucking sad,” Gianna said fiercely.

The silence between us stretched. Lily eventually nodded toward the bed. “Is this where you’ll sleep tonight?”

My throat tightened. “No, Luca and I will spend the night in the master bedroom.” I didn’t think I’d get much, if any, sleep.

A knock sounded and I squared my shoulders, putting on my outside face. Bibiana and Valentina stepped in, followed by mother.

“Wow, Aria, you are gorgeous. Your hair looks like spun gold,” Valentina said. She was already wearing her bridesmaid dress and the mint color looked gorgeous with her dark hair. Technically, only unmarried women were allowed to be bridesmaids but my Uncle had insisted we make an exemption for Valentina. He was really keen to find a new husband for her. Bibiana wore a floor-length maroon dress with long sleeves, despite the summer heat. It was probably meant to hide how thin she’d gotten.

I forced a smile. Mother took Lily’s arm. “Come on, Liliana, your cousins need to talk to your sister.” She led Lily out of the room, then looked back at Gianna who sat cross-legged on the sofa. “Gianna?”

Gianna ignored her. “I’m staying. I won’t leave Aria alone.”

Mother knew better than to argue with my sister when she was in a mood and so she closed the door.

“What are you supposed to talk to me about?”

“Your wedding night,” Valentina said with an apologetic smile. Bibiana made a face, which reminded me how young she was. Only twenty-two. She’d gotten thin. I couldn’t believe they’d chosen to send those two to talk to me about my wedding night. Bibiana’s face spoke of her unhappiness. Since her wedding to a man almost thirty years her senior, she’d been fading away. Was that meant to soothe my fears? And Valentina had lost her husband six months ago in an altercation with the Russians. How could they expect her to talk about wedded bliss?

I smoothed my dress nervously.

Gianna shook her head. “Who sent you anyway? Luca?”

“Your mother,” Bibiana said. “She wants to make sure you know what’s expected of you.”

“Expected of her?” Gianna hissed. “What about what Aria wants?”

“It’s what it is,” Bibiana said bitterly. “Tonight Luca will expect to claim his rights. At least, he’s good looking and young.”

Pity for her kindled in me, but at the same time my own anxiety made it hard to console her. She was right. Luca was good looking. I couldn’t deny it, but that didn’t change the fact that I was terrified of being intimate with him. He didn’t strike me as a man who was gentle in bed. My stomach lurched again.

Valentina cleared her throat. “Luca will know what to do.”

“You just lie on your back and give him what he wants,” Bibiana added. “Don’t try to fight him; that will only make it worse.”

We all stared at her and she looked away.

Valentina touched my shoulder. “We’re not doing a good job at consoling you. Sorry. I’m sure it’ll be alright.”

Gianna snorted. “Maybe mother should have invited one of the women Luca’s fucked to the wedding. They could have told you what to expect.”

“Grace is here,” Bibiana said, then she turned red, and stammered. “I mean, that’s only a rumor. I—” She looked toward Valentina for help.

“One of Luca’s old girlfriends is here?” I whispered.

Bibiana cringed. “I thought you knew. And she wasn’t really his girlfriend, more like a plaything. Luca’s been with many women.” She snapped her mouth shut. I was fighting for control. I couldn’t let people see how weak I was. Why did I even care if Luca’s whore was at the wedding?

“Okay,” Gianna said getting up. “Who the fuck is Grace and why the fuck is she invited to this wedding?”

“Grace Parker. She’s the daughter of a New York senator who’s on the payroll of the Mafia,” Valentina explained. “They had to invite his family.”

Tears blurred my vision and Gianna rushed toward me. “Oh don’t cry, Aria. It’s not worth it. Luca’s an asshole. You knew that. You can’t let his actions get to you.”

Valentina handed me a Kleenex. “You’ll ruin your make-up.”

I blinked a few times until I had a grip on my emotions. “I’m sorry. I’m just being emotional.”

“I think it’s best if you leave now,” Gianna said sharply, not even looking at Bibiana and Valentina. There was rustling and then the door opened and closed. Gianna wrapped her arms around me. “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. I swear it. I’ll take one of those fucking guns and put a hole into his head.”

I leaned against her. “He survived the Bratva and the Triad, and he’s the most feared fighter in the New York familia, Gianna. He’d kill you first.”

Gianna shrugged. “I’d do it for you.”

I pulled back. “You’re still my little sister. I should protect you.”

“We will protect each other,” she whispered. “Our bond is stronger than their stupid oaths and the Omerta and their blood vows.”

“I don’t want to leave you. I hate that I have to move to New York.”

Gianna swallowed. “I’ll visit often. Father will be glad to be rid of me.”

There was a knock and Mother walked in. “It’s time.” She scanned our faces but didn’t comment. Gianna took a step back, eyes burning into me. Then she turned and walked out. Mother’s eyes zoomed in on the white lace garter on my vanity. “Do you need help putting it on?”

I shook my head and slid it up until it came to rest on my upper thigh. Later tonight Luca would remove it with his mouth and throw it into the group of gathered bachelors. I smoothed down my wedding dress.

“Come,” Mother said. “Everyone’s waiting.” She handed me my flower bouquet, a beautiful arrangement of white roses, mother of pearl roses, and pink ranunculas.

We walked in silence through the empty house, my heels clacking on the marble floors. My heart was pounding in my chest as we stepped through the glass sliding door onto the veranda overlooking the backyard and the beach. The front of the garden was occupied by the huge white pavilion where the wedding ceremony would be held. But behind the pavilion dozens of tables had been set up for the following feast. Voices carried over to me from inside the pavilion where the guests were waiting for my arrival. A path of red rose petals led from the veranda toward the entrance of the pavilion. I followed mother into the small room between the outside and the main part of the pavilion. Father was waiting and straightened when we entered. Mother gave him the briefest nod before slipping into the makeshift chapel. His smile was earnest when he offered me his arm. “You look beautiful,” he said quietly. “Luca won’t know what hit him.”

I ducked my head. “Thanks, Father.”

“Be a good wife, Aria. Luca is powerful and once he takes his father’s place, his word will be law. Make me proud, make the Outfit proud.”

I nodded, my throat too tight for words. The music started to play: a string quartet and a piano. Father lowered my veil. I was glad for the extra layer of protection, no matter how thin. Maybe it would hide my expression from afar.

Father led me toward the entrance and gave a low command. The fabric was pulled apart, revealing the long aisle and the many hundred guests to either side of it. My eyes were drawn to the end of the aisle where Luca stood. Tall and imposing in his charcoal suit and vest with the silver tie and the white shirt. His groomsmen were dressed in a vest and dress pants of a lighter grey, and wore no jacket and a bowtie instead of a tie. Fabiano was one of them, with only eight much shorter than the men.

My father tugged me along and my legs seemed to carry me on their own accord as my body shook with nerves. I tried not to look at Luca and instead watched Gianna and Liliana from the corner of my eye. They were the first two bridesmaids and seeing them gave me the strength to hold my head high and not bolt for the outside.

White rose petals covered my path and were squashed under my shoes. Kind of symbolic in itself, though I was sure it wasn’t meant to be.

The walk took forever and yet it was over too soon. Luca extended his hand, palm upwards. My father gripped the corners of my veil and lifted it, then he handed my hand over to Luca, whose gray eyes seemed to burn up with an emotion I couldn’t place. Could he feel me shaking? I didn’t meet his gaze.

The priest in his white frock greeted us, then the guests, before he began his opening prayer. I tried not to pass out. Luca’s grip was the one thing keeping me focused. I had to be strong. When the priest finally came to the closing lines of the Gospel, my legs could barely hold me up. He announced the rite of marriage and the guests all rose from their chairs.

“Luca and Aria,” the priest addressed us. “Have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage? Will you love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?”

Lying was a sin, but so was killing. This room breathed sin. “Yes,” Luca said in his deep voice, and a moment later my own ‘yes’ followed. It came out firm.

“Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his Church.” Luca clasped my hands. His were hot against my cold skin. We faced each other and I had no choice but to look up into his eyes. Luca spoke first, “I, Luca Vitiello, take you, Aria Scuderi, to be my wife. 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.” How sweet the lies sounded from his mouth.

I recited the words expected of me and the priest blessed our rings.

Luca picked up my ring off the red cushion. My fingers shook like leaves in the breeze as I raised them, my heartbeat hummingbird quick. Luca’s strong hand was firm and steady as he took mine. “Aria, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

He slipped the ring onto my finger. White gold with twenty small diamonds. What was meant as a sign of love and devotion for other couples was nothing but a testament of his ownership of me. A daily reminder of the golden cage I’d be trapped in for the rest of my life. Until death do us part wasn’t an empty promise as with so many other couples that entered the holy bond of marriage. There was no way out of this union for me. I was Luca’s until the bitter end. The last few words of the oath men swore when they were inducted into the mafia, could just as well have been the closing of my wedding vow:

‘I enter alive and I will leave dead.’

It was my turn to say the words and slip the ring onto Luca’s finger. For a moment, I wasn’t sure if I could manage. The tremor rocking my body was so strong that Luca had to steady my hand and help me. I hoped nobody had noticed, but as usual Matteo’s keen eyes rested on my fingers. He and Luca were close; they’d probably laugh about my fear for a long time.

I should have run when I still had the chance. Now as hundreds of faces from the Chicago and New York Familias stared back at us, flight was no longer an option. Nor was divorce. Death was the only acceptable end to a marriage in our world. Even if I still managed to escape Luca’s watchful eyes and that of his henchmen, my breach of our agreement would mean war. Nothing my father could say would prevent Luca’s Familia from exercising vengeance for making them lose face.

My feelings didn’t matter, never had. I’d been growing up in a world where no choices were given, especially to women.

This wedding wasn’t about love or trust or choice. It was about duty and honor, about doing what was expected. A bond to ensure peace.

I wasn’t an idiot. I knew what else this was about: money and power. Both were dwindling since the Bratva, the Triad and other smaller crime organizations had been trying to expand their influence into our territories. The Italian Familias across the US needed to lay their feuds to rest and work together to beat down their enemies. I should be honored to marry the oldest son of the New York Familia. That’s what my father and every other male relative had tried to tell me since my betrothal to Luca. I knew that, and it wasn’t as if I hadn’t had time to prepare for this exact moment, and yet fear corseted my body in a relentless grip.

“You may kiss the bride,” the priest said.

I raised my head. Every pair of eyes in the pavilion scrutinized me, waiting for a flicker of weakness. Father would be furious if I let my terror show, and Luca’s Familia would use it against us. But I had grown up in a world where a perfect mask was the only protection afforded to women and had no trouble forcing my face into a placid expression. Nobody would know how much I wanted to escape. Nobody but Luca. I couldn’t hide from him, no matter how much I tried. My body wouldn’t stop shaking and his grip on my hands tightened. As my gaze met Luca’s cold gray eyes, I could tell that he knew. How often had he instilled fear in others? Recognizing it was probably second nature to him.

He bent down to bridge the ten inches he towered over me. There was no sign of hesitation, fear or doubt on his face. My lips trembled against his mouth. My first kiss, if it could even be called that. His eyes bored into me, even as he pulled back. Their message was clear: You are mine.

Not quite. But I would be tonight. A shudder passed through me, and Luca’s eyes narrowed briefly before his face broke into a tight smile as we faced the applauding guests. He could change his expression in a heartbeat. I had to learn it too if I wanted to stand any chance in this marriage.

Luca and I walked down the aisle past the standing and clapping guests, and left the pavilion. Outside, dozens of waiters were waiting with glasses of Champagne and small plates with Canapées. It was now our turn to accept the blessings and congratulations of every guest before we could move on to the tables and sit down for dinner. Luca took two glasses of Champagne and handed one to me. Then he grabbed my hand again and it didn’t appear as if he had any attention to let go any time soon. He bent down, lips brushing my ear and whispered. “Smile. You are the happy bride, remember?”

I stiffened, but I forced my brightest smile onto my face as the first guests piled out of the pavilion and lined up to talk to us.

My legs began to hurt as we’d made it through half of our guests. The words directed at us were always the same. Praise for me on my beauty and congrats to Luca for having such a beautiful wife – as if that was an achievement – always followed by not so hidden hints about the wedding night. I wasn’t sure if my face remained as bright through all of them. Luca kept glancing at me as if to make sure I kept up the charade.

Bibiana and her husband were next. He was small, fat and bald. When he kissed my hand I had to stop myself from shuddering. After a few mandatory words of congrats, Bibiana gripped my arms and pulled me toward her body to whisper into my ear. “Make him be good to you. Make him love you if you can. It’s the only way to get through this.”

She let go of me and her husband wrapped his arm around her waist, meaty hand on her hip, then they were gone.

“What did she say?” Luca asked.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, glad for the next well-wishers that prevented Luca from asking more questions. I nodded and smiled, but my mind whirred around what Bibiana had said. I wasn’t sure if anyone could make Luca do anything he didn’t want to do. Could I make him want to be good to me? Could I make him want to love me? Was he even capable of such an emotion?

I risked a glance up at him as he talked to a soldier of the New York mob. He was smiling. Feeling my eyes on him, he turned and for a moment our gazes locked. There was darkness and a burning possessiveness in his eyes that sent a shiver of fear down my back. I doubted there was a flicker of gentleness or love in his black heart.

“Congrats, Luca,” a high female voice said. Luca and I turned toward it and something in his demeanor shifted ever so slightly.

“Grace,” Luca said with a nod.

My eyes froze on the woman, even though her father Senator Parker had started talking to me. She was beautiful in an artificial way with a too narrow nose, full lips and a cleavage that made my moderate chest look like child’s play. I didn’t think any of it was natural. Or maybe my jealousy was talking. I dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come.

With a look in my direction, she leaned up and said something to Luca. His face remained a passive mask. Finally, she turned to me and actually pulled me into a hug. I had to force myself not to stiffen. “I should warn you. Luca’s a beast in the bedroom and hung like one too. It’ll hurt when he takes you and he won’t care. He doesn’t care about you or your silly emotions. He will fuck you like an animal. He will fuck you bloody,” she murmured, then she stepped back and followed after her parents.

I could feel the color drain from my face. Luca reached for my hand and I flinched, but he clasped it anyway. I steeled myself and ignored him. I couldn’t face him now, not after what that woman had just said. I didn’t care that it was required to invite her and her parents. Luca should have kept them away.

I could tell Luca got frustrated with my continued refusal to meet his gaze as we spoke to the last few guests. When we walked toward the tables that had been set up under a roof of garlands attached to wooden beams, he said, “You can’t ignore me forever, Aria. We are married now.”

I ignored that as well. I was hanging onto my composure with desperate abandon and still I could feel it slipping through my fingers like sand. I could not, I would not break into tears at my own wedding, especially since nobody would mistake them for tears of happiness.

Before we could take our seats, a chorus of ‘Bacio, Bacio’ broke out among our guests. I’d forgotten about that tradition. Whenever the guests shouted the words we’d have to kiss until they were satisfied. Luca pulled me against his rock-hard chest and pressed another kiss against my lips. I tried in vain not to be as stiff as a porcelain doll, to no avail. Luca released me and finally we were allowed to sit down.

Gianna took a seat beside me, then leaned over to whisper in my ear. “I’m glad he didn’t shove his tongue down your throat. I don’t think I could get any food down if I had to witness that.” I was glad too. I was already tense enough. If Luca actually tried to deepen a kiss in front of hundreds of guests, I might lose it altogether.

Matteo sat beside Luca and said something to him that made both of them laugh. I didn’t even want to know what kind of lewd joke that might have been. The rest of the seats at our table belonged to my parents, Fabiano and Lily, Luca’s father and step-mother, as well as Fiore Cavallaro and his wife and their son Dante. I knew I should be starving. The only thing I’d eaten all day were the few pieces of banana in the morning, but my stomach seemed content to live on fear alone.

Matteo rose from his chair after everyone had settled down and clinked his knife against the Champagne glass to silence the crowd. With a nod toward Luca and me, he began his toast. “Ladies and gentlemen, old and new friends, we’ve come here today to celebrate the wedding of my brother Luca and his stunningly beautiful wife Aria…”

Gianna reached for my hand under the table. I hated having the attention of everyone on me, but I mustered up a bright smile. Matteo soon made several inappropriate jokes that had almost everyone roaring and even Luca leaned back in his chair with a smirk, which seemed to be the only form of smile he allowed himself most of the time. After Matteo, it was my father’s turn; he praised the great collaboration of the New York mob and the Chicago Outfit, making it sound as if this was a business merger and not a wedding feast. Of course he also dropped a few hints that it was a wife’s duty to obey and please her husband.

Gianna clutched my hand so tightly by then that I was worried it would fall off. At last, it was Luca’s father’s turn to toast us. Salvatore Vitiello wasn’t quite as impressive but whenever his eyes settled on me, I had to stifle a shiver. The only good thing about listening to the toast was that nobody could call ‘Bacio, Bacio’ and that Luca’s attention was focused elsewhere. That reprieve was short-lived however.

The servers began piling the tables with antipasti; everything from veal Carpaccio, Vitello Tonnato, Mozzarella di Bufala, an entire leg of parma ham, over a selection of Italian cheeses, octopus salad, marinated calamari as well as green salads and ciabiatta. Gianna grabbed a piece of bread and tore into it, then said, “I wanted to make a toast as your bridesmaid but Father forbade it. He seemed worried I would say something to embarrass our family.”

Luca and Matteo glanced our way. Gianna hadn’t bothered lowering her voice and pointedly ignored Father’s death glare. I tugged at her arm. I didn’t want her to get in trouble. With a huff, she filled her plate with antipasti and dug in. My plate was still empty. A server filled my glass with white wine and I took a sip. I’d already drunk a glass of Champagne; that combined with the fact that I hadn’t eaten much all day made me feel slightly foggy.

Luca put a hand on mine, preventing me from taking another gulp. “You should eat.” If I hadn’t felt the eyes of everyone at the table on me, I’d have ignored his warning and downed the wine. I grabbed a slice of bread, took a bite, then put the rest onto my plate. Luca’s lips tightened but he didn’t try to coax me into eating more, not even when soup was served and I let it go back untouched. They served lamb roast for the main course. The sight of the whole lambs made my stomach turn but it was traditional. The cook rolled a rotisserie table toward us, since we had to be served first. Luca as the husband got the first slice and before I could decline he told the cook to give me a slice as well. The center of the table was loaded with roasted rosemary potatoes, truffled mashed potatoes, grilled asparagus and much more.

I forced a bite of lamb and potato into my mouth before I set down my cutlery. My throat was too tight for food. I washed it down with another gulp of wine. Luckily Luca was busy talking to the men at the table about a club the Russians had attacked in New York. Even Dante Cavallaro, the future Boss of the Outfit looked almost animated when he talked about business.

A band started playing when dinner was over, the signal that it was time for the obligatory dance. Luca stood, holding out his hand. I let him pull me to my feet, and at once ‘Bacio, Bacio’ rang out. Gianna narrowed her eyes and searched the guests, as if she was thinking of attacking the culprit who’d started the chanting.

When Luca tugged me toward him, I stumbled against his chest as dizziness caught up with me. Luckily, nobody noticed because Luca’s arms around me held me firm. His eyes pierced mine as he lowered his lips and brushed them against mine. The band played faster and faster, urging us to finally enter the dance floor; the tables had been set up in circles around it. Luca kept his arm around my waist as he led me toward the center. To everyone around us it looked like a loving embrace but it was the only thing keeping me upright.

Luca pulled me against his chest for the waltz and I had no choice but to rest my cheek against it. I could feel a gun under his vest. Even the groom couldn’t come to his wedding unarmed. For the first time I was glad for Luca’s strength. He had no trouble keeping me on my feet during the dance. When it ended, he leaned down. “Once we’re back at the table, you’ll eat. I don’t want you to pass out during our celebration and much less during our wedding night.”

I did as he asked and forced down a few more bites of now cold potato and meat. Luca’s alert gaze kept checking on me while he talked to Matteo. The dance floor was filled with other people now. Lily rose from her chair and asked Romero to dance. No surprise there. He couldn’t refuse her of course. Neither could I refuse when Luca’s father asked me for a dance. After that I was handed from one man to the next until I lost count of their names and faces. All through it Luca’s eyes followed my every move, even when he danced with the women of our families. Gianna, too, couldn’t escape the dance floor. I caught her dancing with Matteo at least three times and her face got more sullen by the minute.

“May I?”

I startled at the distantly familiar voice that sent a thrill of fear through my body. Dante Cavallaro took the place of whomever I’d danced with before. He was tall, albeit not as tall as Luca, and not as muscled. “You don’t look impressed with the festivities.”

“Everything’s perfect,” I said mechanically.

“But you didn’t choose this marriage.”

I gaped at him. His dark blonde hair and blue eyes gave him a look of cold efficiency while Luca radiated fierce brutality. Different sides of the same coin. In a few years the East Coast and Midwest would tremble under their judgement. I snapped my mouth shut. “It’s an honor.”

“And your duty. We all have to do things we don’t want to. Sometimes it might seem as if we don’t have any choice at all.”

“You are a man. What do you know about not having a choice?” I said harshly, then stiffened and ducked my head. “I’m sorry. That was out of turn.” I couldn’t talk to someone who was practically my Boss like that. Then I remembered he no longer was. I didn’t fall under the rule of the Chicago Outfit anymore. With my marriage, I’d become part of the New York mob and thus Luca’s and his father’s rule.

“I think your husband is eager to have you back in his arms,” Dante said with a tilt of his head, then handed me over to Luca who gave him a hard look. Two predators facing off.

Once we were out of earshot of Dante Cavallaro, Luca looked down at me. “What did Cavallaro want?”

“Congratulate me on the festivities.”

Luca gave me a look that made it clear he didn’t believe me. There was a hint of mistrust in his expression.

The music stopped and Matteo clapped his hands, silencing the guests. “Time to throw the garter!”

Luca and I stopped as the guests gathered around the dance floor to watch the show. A few even stood on chairs or held up their kids so everyone could get a good look. Luca knelt before me under the cheers of our guests and raised his eyebrows. I gripped my gown and lifted it up to my knees. Luca slid his hands up my calves, over my knees and up my thighs. I stilled completely at the feel of his fingers on my naked skin. Goose-bumps erupted all over my body. The touch was light and not uncomfortable, and yet it terrified me.

Luca’s eyes were intent as they watched my face. His fingers brushed the garter on my right thigh and he pushed my gown up for everyone to see, revealing the entire length of my leg. I gripped the hem and he put his arms behind his back, then he bent over my thigh, his lips brushing the skin under the garter. I sucked in a deep breath but tried to keep my face in happy-bride mode. Luca closed his teeth around the edge of the garter and pulled it down my leg until it landed in a heap at my white high heels. I raised my foot so Luca could pick the piece of lace up. He straightened and presented the garter to the applauding crowd. I forced a smile and clapped as well. The only person who wasn’t smiling was Gianna.

“Bachelors,” Luca called in his deep voice. “Gather around. Maybe you’ll be the lucky one to marry next!”

Even the youngest boys stepped forward, Fabiano among them. He was scowling. Mother had probably forced him to participate. I winked at him and he poked out his tongue. I couldn’t help but laugh, the first genuine gesture I’d managed during the wedding feast.

Luca’s eyes darted toward me, a strange expression on his face. I quickly looked away. Luca raised his arm, the garter in his fist before he thrust it into the cluster of waiting men.

Matteo snatched it out of the air with an impressive lunge. “Any willing Outfit ladies out there that want to further the bond between our families?” he boomed, wiggling his eyebrows.

Cheering and laughter sounded from many married and unmarried women. Of course, Lily was among them, jumping up and down with a bright smile. Everything was a game for her. I didn’t want Matteo’s eyes on her, I didn’t even want her name in his mind when he thought of marriage. As was tradition he had to pick an unmarried woman to dance with.

Luca stepped close to me, his arm sneaking around my waist in casual possessiveness. I flinched at the unexpected contact and Luca’s body became rigid.

Matteo extended his hand toward Lily who looked close to exploding from excitement over being chosen. My chest tightened. I knew it was a joke right now. Nobody took a fourteen-year-old girl seriously.

As Luca and I waltzed over the dance floor, I kept an eye on Lily and Matteo. His hand was high on her back, his expression teasing. He didn’t look like a man who’d set his eyes on his future wife.

“If my brother married your sister, you’d have family in New York,” Luca said.

“I won’t let him have Lily.” The words were fierce. How could I be tough when it came to protecting my sister but not when it was about me?

“It’s not Lily he wants.”

My eyes flew to Gianna who stood with her arms wrapped around her chest, eyes like a hawk as they followed us. Father wouldn’t give away another of his daughters to New York. If he wanted to strengthen the position of our family in the Chicago Outfit, he needed to make sure he had enough family around him. After the waltz was over, a faster beat began and the dance floor was once again flooded with guests.

Luca started dancing with my mother and I used the moment to slip away. I needed a few moments to myself or I’d lose it. I lifted my gown off the ground and hurried to the edge of the garden where grass met the bay before I walked down the few steps that led to the dock where a yacht was lying in wait. To my right a long beach stretched out. The ocean was black under the night sky and the breeze tugged at my dress and ripped strands from my updo. I stepped out of my high heels and jumped off the dock, my feet landing in the cool sand. Closing my eyes, I listened to the sound of the waves. The wooden boards creaked and I tensed before glancing over my shoulder and spotting Gianna. She shook off her own shoes and joined me on the beach, wrapping an arm around me.

“Tomorrow you’ll leave for New York and I’ll head back to Chicago,” she whispered.

I swallowed hard. “I’m scared.”

“Of tonight?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “Of tonight and every night that follows. Of being alone with Luca in a city I don’t know, surrounded by people I know even less, people who might still be the enemy. Of getting to know Luca and finding out he’s the monster I think he is. Of being without you and Lily and Fabiano.”

“We will come to visit as often as Father allows it. And about tonight.” Gianna’s voice turned hard. “He can’t force you.”

I let out a choked laugh. Sometimes I forgot that Gianna was younger than me. These were the moments that reminded me. “He can. He will.”

“Then you’ll fight him with all you’ve got.”

“Gianna,” I said in a whisper. “Luca is going to be Capo dei Capi. He’s a born fighter. He’ll laugh at me if I try to resist. Or my refusal will make him angry and then he’ll really want to hurt me.” I paused. “Bibiana told me I should give him what he wants, that I should try to make him be good to me, try to make him love me.”

“Stupid Bibiana, what does she know?” Gianna glared at me. “Look at her, the way she cowers in front of that fat fool. How she lets him touch her with his sausage fingers. I’d rather die than lie under a man like that.”

“Do you think I can make Luca love me?”

Gianna shook her head. “Maybe you can make him respect you. I don’t think men like him have a heart to be capable of love.”

“Even the most cold hearted bastards have a heart.”

“Well, then it’s as black as tar. Don’t waste your time on love, Aria. You won’t find it in our world.”

She was right of course, but I couldn’t help hoping.

“Promise me you’ll be strong. Promise me you won’t let him treat you like a whore. You are his wife.”

“Is there a difference?”

“Yeah, whores at least get to sleep with other men and don’t have to live in a golden cage. They are better off.”

I snorted. “You are impossible.”

Gianna shrugged. “It made you smile.” She turned and her expression darkened. “Luca sent his lapdog. Maybe he was worried you’d run.”

I followed her gaze to find Romero standing at the crest of the small hill overlooking the bay and the dock.

“We should have taken that yacht and run away.”

“Where could I run? He’d follow me to the end of the world.” I glanced at the elegant golden watch around my wrist. I didn’t know Luca, but I knew men of his kind. They were possessive. Once you belonged to them, there was no escaping. “We should go back. The wedding cake will be presented soon.”

We put our shoes back on and walked back toward the noise. I ignored Romero but Gianna scowled at him. “Does Luca need you for everything? Or can he at least take a piss on his own?”

“Luca is the groom and needs to attend to the guests,” Romero said simply, but of course it was a reprimand in my direction.

Luca’s eyes settled on me the moment I returned to the festivities. Many guests were already drunk, and some had moved up to where the pool was and were taking a swim fully clothed. Luca held his hand out and I bridged the distance between us and took it. “Where were you?”

“I just needed a moment to myself.”

There was no time for further discussions as the cook rolled a table with our wedding cake toward the center. It was white, had six tiers and was decorated with peach flowers. Luca and I cut it under another round of applause, followed by ‘Bacio, Bacio’ and put the first piece onto our plate. Luca picked up a fork and fed me a bit as a sign that he’d provide for me, and I then fed him a piece as a sign that I’d take care of him as a good wife was supposed to.

It was close to midnight when the first shouts rang out that suggested Luca and I retire to the bedroom. “You wed her, now bed her!” Matteo shouted, throwing his arms up and bumping into a chair. He’d drunk his fair share of wine, whiskey, Grappa and whatever else he could get his hands on. Luca, on the other hand, was sober. The small inkling of hope I’d harbored that he’d be too drunk to consummate our marriage evaporated. Luca’s answering grin, all predator, all hunger, all want, made my heart pound in my chest. Soon most of the men and even many women joined in the chorus.

Luca rose from his chair and I did the same, even though I wanted to cling to it with desperate abandon, but I had no choice. A few looks of understanding and compassion from other women were directed my way, but they were almost as bad as the jeering.

Gianna rose from her chair but Mother gripped her upper arm, holding her back. Salvatore Vitiello shouted something about a bed sheet, but the sound and colors seemed dimmed to me, as if I was trapped in fog. Luca’s grip around my hand as he led me toward the house was the only thing keeping me in motion. My body seemed on autopilot. A large crowd, mainly consisting of men, followed after us, their chant of “Bed her, Bed her!” growing louder as we entered the house and ascended the staircase toward the second floor where the master bedroom was. Fear was an insistent throbbing in my chest.

I tasted copper and realized I’d bitten the inside of my cheek hard. We finally arrived in front of the dark wooden double doors of the master bedroom. The men kept clapping Luca’s back and shoulders. Nobody touched me. I would have wilted if they had. Luca opened the door and I walked in, glad to bring some distance between the leering crowd and myself. The shouting rang in my head and it was all I could do not to clamp my hands over my ears. “Bed her! Bed her!”

Luca slammed the door shut. Now we were alone for our wedding night.