Chapter 19
CARMELA
T he wedding celebration unlocks a new nightmare level.
The reception is held in the prestigious Redlands Banquet Hall, which copes admirably with the large number of guests.
With high vaulted ceilings and arched windows, it has been decorated throughout for the wedding with flowers and all the trimmings.
Archways lead into several smaller reception rooms and bars where guests can mingle before and after the formal meal.
In the center is the dance floor, and, to the side of that, a live band.
I always imagined my wedding reception would be in the garden of my home.
Over the years many parties have been held there, and I loved every one.
That was out of the question with the chaos caused by the huge new car garage Ettore is building.
If I’m honest, and with hindsight, I’m glad the reception wasn’t there.
There are well wishes, toasts, and an overabundance of food, which I can only choke down a few bites of. My father makes his speech, announcing Ettore as the new head of the family. In Ettore’s speech, he welcomes the joining of our great families.
In the pauses between, I can hear Helena, only a few seats away, as she fawns all over Dante.
“We would make a good match,” she said. “I told my brother as much.”
I don’t consider myself violent, but I could stab that woman’s eyes out with my fork.
Then comes the songs and dancing.
I dance with my husband, my jaw aching from the effort of maintaining a smile.
Then Ettore dances with Jessica.
Dante dances with Helena.
And by some sick twist of fate, I find myself paired up with Christian.
His scent is oddly familiar. His body is solid under his suit.
With one arm around my waist and the other hand holding mine, there is nowhere to look but at him.
There has always been a pull between us.
Meeting his eyes is out of the question, so I find avid interest in his throat.
The outline of a tattoo peeks out the collar of his white dress shirt, and my eyes fix on it.
I don’t remember seeing it before… then again, I’ve never been stuck this intimately close to him before.
When I glance up, I find him staring down at me with the same eyes he shares with Dante. Only Christian’s are cold. I try telling myself he’s still a boy, but really he’s not. I may be a month older, but the way he handles himself, he might as well be ten years older.
“What happened to Dante?”
I instantly regret the lapse in my mental vigilance.
He flinches, and his fingers tighten painfully against me. “I guess Don Ettore wanted to reinforce the message about you.”
He’s never called him don before, never used the formal title, and it grates on me that he does. “It can’t be Ettore.”
“Can’t it? I heard you and your husband were enjoying a nice meal while his men were working over Dante.”
God, no. Not that night. The phone calls… his smile… what happened after, me on my knees in what used to be my father’s study. I think I might be sick.
His lips curl into a sneer, and his voice lowers.
“You’re the reason my brother got fucked over, the reason he was forced to leave the city and his home.
The reason he was beaten. You ever seen a hand after someone takes a hammer to it?
That’s what your husband planned for him.
To maim him.” His eyes lower to the necklace Dante gave me.
“Then you put his necklace on to fuck with him again. Guess your innocent facade is just a front. You can’t hide your true self from me.
I see you and how you get off on violence, Mrs. Gallo . ”
His words land like blows. They fucking hurt. I shake my head, blinking away the sting at the back of my eyes. “I didn’t… I didn’t know. How could I?”
“Babe, this is the mob. Your new husband is a don. He’s going to fuck up and fuck with any man he sees as a threat. But you just like playing bitch with people’s lives, don’t you, princess. Lucky for me, I don’t have to fake hating you so he’ll never see me as a threat.”
“Enough,” I whisper.
“Not a fucking chance. Ettore only put me on you because he knows I’d sooner fuck a corpse than you. My new mission is going to be ruining your perfect princess life any chance I get.”
I was at a low point a few days ago, and I thought I sensed something from him, a connection, maybe a chink in the animosity he directs at me.
Only how can there ever be more than animosity between us?
So stupid, Carmela. Stupid, na?ve girl playing adult games you don’t understand.
Why did I put this necklace on? Why did I keep it?
I felt sick a few moments ago. Now I fear I might pass out.
“Too late to back out now, Mrs. Gallo. You’ve waved the red flag in Dante’s face, gotten him all stirred up.
But that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? Maybe a repeat performance to see if he’s as good at going down on you as you remember.
” His smile is charming and gives away nothing of his crass words.
“You’re looking a little flushed. Did I hit a nerve? ”
I want to slap him. Were we alone, I would.
He sees it on my face, and his smile grows. He’s holding me too tightly, forcing me to behave when I just want to rail at him with all my rage.
“You’re sick in the head,” I hiss.
“Aww, babe. You’re hurting my feelings,” he says cheerfully.
“Feelings? You came into the world without a soul. The only feelings you have are sadistic ones.”
He laughs.
The song comes to an end. Finally. I’m shaking, emotionally brittle, and ready to snap. The moment he releases me, I sweep out of the reception without looking back.
CHRISTIAN
I shouldn’t fuck with her. She’s not having a good day. Poor baby just got married to a dickhead. I should cut her some slack.
Only I can’t help myself. It’s like her mere presence fucks with me. Her scent and those big blue eyes that are innocent, sad, and hopeful.
Ettore is dancing with his bitch sister. At least that gives Dante a break from her pawing him. I slip through the crowd, following Carmela at a discreet distance so I can see where she goes.
Maybe she’s crying? I laid it on pretty thick.
Do I care if she is?
Nope. I just don’t want her meltdown fucking with my brother.
She takes the back corridor, heading for one of the many powder rooms. A group of girls go in ahead of her. Carmela veers off to the side where an alcove gives her a hiding place.
I glance back into the banquet hall that looks like someone with the color coordination skills of a toddler threw up and catch Dante’s eyes on me. Which is when I remember something I saw earlier, and an idea comes to me.
“You’re up,” I mouth.
His brows pull together.
I grin and jerk my head toward the corridor. Frowning, he rises and approaches.
Game on.
CAMELA
I try to pull myself together after my dance with Christian.
He’s not the worst thing coming for me today. Even after Ettore pushed me to my knees and forced his cock into my mouth, I tried to tell myself it was normal, that I should have anticipated it, maybe even tried to show affection to the man I was about to marry.
Only, all I can see is Dante’s face and the fading bruises.
Someone was going to take a hammer to his hand. Ettore ordered it, according to Christian—the hand he put on me.
I press my cold hands to my hot cheeks.
Does Ettore know what we did?
He can’t possibly. This would be a thousand times worse if he did. I want to fling the necklace from me and never look at it again. But it’s too late now. I’m wearing it after making a big fuss about how my mother gave it to me and, worse, brought Jessica in on the lie.
I pace the small alcove, aware of the ticking clock, how I’m the bride and can’t be here for long.
Why did Christian say all those things?
Why did he have to be impossibly cruel?
DANTE
“What are you up to?”
My brother is leaning casually against the wall in the corridor, thumbing through his cell phone, but looks up briefly and points at the door opposite.
It’s a lady’s powder room with an out-of-order sign.
“I’m still none the wiser.”
“I already picked the lock. This place must have like ten powder rooms. No one will miss one.”
My heart skips a beat.
“Is she in there?” I ask more casually than I feel.
“Not yet,” he says cheerfully. “But I will sort that out shortly. Better if you head in first. Something tells me she will start screaming and pounding on the door if I lock her in there alone.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Are you fucking insane? You want me to go in the powder room, and, what, just wait for you to bring her to me?”
“Yep. Sounds good, yeah? I mean, you wanted her firsts. Can’t think of any other way for this one. Stroke of genius on my part coming up with this, even if I do say so myself.”
What possessed me to tell him that particular nugget? What have I unleashed?
“What if she doesn’t want to see me?” Only, I’m thinking about that fucking necklace, my necklace, the one she is wearing for me, lying about for me.
Such a good girl for me.
“Not a problem,” he says, slipping his phone into his pocket and offering me a charming smile. He cracks his knuckles. “Any issues, I’ll just go ahead and put her in there.”
I run my fingers through my hair and fail to curb the pulse of interest at the thought of him manhandling her into the room and bringing her to me so I can take her first. I want to smack the maniac up the side of the head for even putting this sick dilemma in my head.
Leon’s words about resisting temptation hold me only briefly. It’s not much of a dilemma, is it?
I grab the back of Christian’s neck and lean in close. “You’re fucked up. Do it.”
CARMELA
I exit the alcove.
A hand wraps around my mouth from behind, and another snags my waist.
Panic slams into me, barely tempered as I recognize the scent.
Christian .
“Hush, babe.”
Babe! I try to kick him, but my long gown gets in the way, and I nearly go down.
Then I’m weightless as he plucks me up, leaving me hanging from his arm, and pushes through a door.
He releases me. I stagger forward, throwing a look over my shoulder just as the door swings shut.
“What the hell!”
I’m about to pound on the door when a dark shape emerges behind me. A hand wraps around the back of my neck, propelling me forward against the door. His body crushes mine against the hard surface, a wall of heat holding me immobile, holding me hostage.
I can hear the blood pounding in my ears, my mind reeling. Christian hates me. But enough for this, whatever this is… to hurt me?
A hand enters my vision to the right where my cheek is pressed up against the door. As he brushes a tendril of escaped hair behind my ear, I see the blood splatter on his cuff.
Dante .
Should this make me more or less frightened? I can’t quickly decide.
His fingertip snags the chain on my necklace, then runs down the length at the side of my throat.
My body is going haywire, a heady mixture of fear, danger, and lust. “What are you doing, Dante?”
His lips brush against the column of my throat. My breath catches. I feel like I’m falling.
“I made you a promise,” he says, voice low, lips feather-light against my skin, making me shiver in anticipation of where they will touch next. “That your firsts would be mine.”
The feel of him pressed against me, the gentle assault of his lips, and his scent are bitter reminders of what might have been. “You’re going to have to miss out on one.”
His weight disappears. I sag briefly before I’m spun around and pressed back against the door. His fingers wrap around my throat, his chest heaving, his dark eyes searching mine.
I blink back the gathering tears. Why did I say that? Why did I poke at the wound? I lower my eyes first, shame bringing heat to my cheeks.