Chapter 33
DANTE
“ I can’t believe you went to see her,” Leon says, pacing the confines of the bedroom of my city apartment. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you looking to get offed?”
I ignore him and continue with my tie.
It’s my wedding day.
Only pity is, I’m marrying Helena.
Meanwhile all I can think about is the perceived bond growing between my brother and Carmela.
I’ve tried telling myself that Christian’s loyalty to me is unwavering, that nothing could or would come between us.
Seeing her helped. It centered me and reminded me why I’m doing this—not the only reason, but certainly the largest, most compelling one.
“No, I’m not looking to get offed,” I reply, distracted by the way the simple task of putting on my tie eludes me.
She was still wearing my necklace. Seeing it against her skin set off a fresh wave of territorial in me.
Maybe Christian has thought about fucking her; I mean, who wouldn’t? That doesn’t mean he has followed through.
Now, I’m thinking about him thinking about fucking her…
Leon comes to stand in front of me. He gestures toward the tie. “What are you, five years old? Hand it over before I strangle you with it. I can’t believe you went to see her without telling me. And Chris has lost his goddamn mind for facilitating it.”
I smile and offer up the ends of my tie.
He ties it for me and then puts his hands on my shoulders. “This isn’t going to work if you do stupid shit behind my back.”
I nod. “I know. I’m sorry… Got to be honest with you, though, I don’t trust myself not to do more stupid shit around her. You can take this as a forewarning.”
He sighs heavily, steps back, and chuckles. “I thought Christian would be the one I had to worry about.”
“You definitely still need to worry about him.”
CARMELA
It’s Dante’s wedding day.
Just another day in paradise for me. On the plus side, Ettore has been out the last few nights and is surprisingly pleasant to me when he is around.
Maybe my acting skills when I cried all over him are better than I realized… or some kind of Ettore planetary alignment is taking place. Maybe this wedding between Helena and Dante has provided a source of joy in his sour life.
I don’t know, and I don’t care. If I can get through the day without throwing up all over Helena’s white wedding dress, I will consider it a win.
White? That has to be a joke on her part, right? The color isn’t even good on her.
I’m to be her maid of honor. I’m sure she has bestowed this delight upon me only to gloat over bagging the man I should have married. It’s a power play. One I have no choice but to endure. As if the situation could not get any worse, the wedding and reception are to be at our house.
How my mama would despair.
The only glimmer in this joyless day is that I get to hang out with Leon who is Dante’s groomsman.
“He fucking hates Helena. He wouldn’t get his dick anywhere near her skanky ass.”
Christian’s words helped, as did seeing Dante last week.
But he’s still marrying her, giving her his name, one that should have been mine.
“Why is he doing this?”
“Because it gives him a pathway back into the family and a reason to visit the city,” Christian said. “Because it gives him a reason to see you.”
People keep taunting me with hope. It’s time for them to start delivering on their promises.
“And where does that leave us, Christian? What am I to you? Just a fuck-buddy with a side serve of danger because I’m the don’s wife?”
Change is coming. It’s inevitable. Being free of Ettore? I want that. Desperately.
Being free of Christian? Not so much.
“I don’t know what we are,” Christian said. “I only know I don’t want it to stop.”
This peace won’t last with Ettore. It never does. He is a volatile man. We have gone through this cycle before. Something will trigger him, maybe next week, maybe tomorrow, maybe today, a perceived slight or imaginary happening I have no control over.
Control . That’s at the crux of it. The sense of helplessness is overwhelming some days, while the underlying stress is constant.
I have no control.
It never mattered when I was younger. I had my father; his brand of control was loving and protective. It never hurt until it did, when he asked me to trust, and I did.
I’m going to watch Dante get married today. It’s going to hurt, too.
“I’m taking the fact that you’re still wearing my necklace as an indication that you might still want me when this is all done.”
I want to trust him, to give over my control to him, because I live in a world where men hold such power, not the women or the wives.
Can I do that if and when the time comes?
Can I submit?
A knock sounds on my door. “Mr. Barone is here,” Brigida calls through.
My heart skips a beat at the mention of that name, even though I know it’s Leon she’s talking about.
“Just coming,” I call back. I snatch the flower posy from the bed and head out the door.
I’m halfway down the stairs when Leon walks into view, grinning up at me. “Looking beautiful, Carmela.”
“Thank you,” I say, stopping on the last step, where he leans in to kiss my cheek.
“How are you doing?” He offers me his arm.
I take the final step, slipping my hand through his arm. “I’m fine.”
His eyes search mine.
“Don’t,” I say.
“Don’t what?”
“Give me empty promises.”
“I’ve already had words with my cousin.” He sighs like those words were a challenge.
“You didn’t agree with him seeing me,” I say slowly. Only after, and as we share a look, do I accept that I trust Leon, the way I trust Christian, and Dante.
“More that he did so without telling me.”
From what I heard, he’s working for Dante, but that statement tells a different story.
His father was the underboss before he died.
Leon’s eyes are not the typical dark brown of the Barone men but rather a clear, aqua blue.
In them, I see hidden currents and danger.
He has always been like a protective older brother to me, and maybe that gave me a false impression about his nature.
“You don’t work for Dante,” I say slowly.
“More of a partnership with a common goal.”
Not only are those currents hidden, but they’re fast-moving.
“You’re young,” he says. “And, through necessity, have been incredibly strong. I wish you hadn’t needed to be.
Wish I’d come back sooner… Now, don’t give the bitch any satisfaction.
Helena’s motivations in marrying Dante are largely about his bank balance.
She might also be laboring under a false delusion that her bedroom skills will seduce my cousin into giving a fuck.
He doesn’t. Dante would sooner dip his dick in acid than her.
So let her gloat. Later tonight, just about the time she anticipates consummating her marriage, I’m going to be sitting her down and explaining how it’s going to be.
If she’s sensible, she will have a comfortable life in a nice house and get a credit card with a generous limit.
If she’s not sensible, she will regret it.
” He winks. “Don’t look so worried. I have enough dirt on her to make a hardened case worker weep.
I’m confident Don Ettore would quietly strangle her himself if he knew half of it.
She will play ball or find herself pushing up daisies. ”
I bite my lower lip, caught somewhere between incredulity and laughter.
“You’ve got this, sister of my heart.”
DANTE
She’s wearing my necklace again. It gets me through the service, which is short and to the point.
Then there are photos where I risk cracking a tooth in order to maintain a smile.
Carmela is always close, but whether with Leon, who I can tolerate, or Ettore, who I definitely can’t, she is a temptation I don’t allow my eyes to linger on at the risk of doing the ‘something stupid’ I warned Leon about.
There are only a few dozen guests, and the subsequent celebratory meal is held in the long dining room.
I have Christian and Leon for me, and the rest of the guests are down to Helena…
Helena, who is glowing with a mile-wide smile, and snips at Carmela or orders her around every chance she gets.
Meanwhile, Carmela is the ice queen, taking everything graciously in her stride.
It’s fucking hot.
She looks fucking hot, too, in her knee-length white silk dress. It should be a simpler, more understated version of Helena’s. Yet Carmela comes out classy, and Helena trashy.
My wife is oblivious to everything but herself.
Wife .
Fuck, I just want to pour bleach over every part of me that has had to touch her for appearance’s sake.
“Carmela,” Helena calls, going so far as to snap her fingers. “Would you see to Peony while I dance with my husband?”
I wince.
Carmela’s smile is benevolent.
“My wife is not your servant, Helena.” Ettore steps and glares at his sister. “You have a nanny. I suggest you ask her.”
Helena’s laughter is high and forced before she calls her long-suffering nanny over to see to her brat. At some point when this freak show is over, I intend to ensure Lillete gets the bonus of her life and an opportunity to escape.
I dance with Helena. It’s our wedding and it's expected of me. No avoiding it. But on my periphery, I can see Carmela standing with Leon and Christian. She’s laughing about something, and her eyes are on Christian.
I feel something compress in my chest before cold, then hot sweeps down my spine.
I haven’t seen them together in over a year—the coffee shop doesn’t count when he was a room-length away.
“We should start trying for children straight away,” Helena says, distracting me.
What the fuck? “What?” I drag my gaze back to hers.
“Children.” She smiles, stroking her fingers down my lapels. “A little brother or sister for Peony. I stopped taking the pill as soon as our wedding was announced.”