Chapter 22 – Amanda
He called me Mandy.
Shock set in somewhere between the first car ride and the second. The flight between those was a blur; all I could tell was that it was short. We weren’t far from Martha’s Vineyard, but that didn’t mean much.
The masked man called me Mandy!
I forced blood to warm my extremities. Sunlight filtered through the tinted windows of the luxury car as we sped over the coastal road.
I lifted my fingers to let the muted light glint off my skin.
Why was he doing this? What was behind this obsession that drove him to destroy my wedding?
He wanted me, so he took me. That felt too simple.
My analytical brain said there was more, something I was missing. But I couldn’t figure it out.
“What happens now?” I managed to ask.
The devil was still wearing the mask. It was fixed straight on the road, but I felt his attention shift to me.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he finally answered.
I let out a short laugh. “No.”
“Well, then, you’ll see.” That promise shivered over my skin. “Here. Drink this.”
I batted the water bottle away. “Oh, hell no!”
That full upper lip curled. A sound, more animal than human, rumbled from him. “Amanda, drink.”
“You’ve stalked me for weeks.” I held up my fingers to count.
“You drugged my fiancé. You tied me up—” I didn’t want to admit he gave me the best orgasm of my life, so I skipped to the next crime “—you drugged me, which meant I missed an important day at work. You sabotaged my wedding, and now, now! You’ve kidnapped me. ”
“Don’t forget the sauna,” he muttered, leaning back to collect the water bottle from the back seat.
The car careened.
I planted my hands on the side panel and dash, stifling a scream.
The car stopped with a jerk, brakes whining.
The masked man leaned over. His dark energy ate up the already small space of the cab’s interior.
“You’ll figure it out eventually, so I’ll only tell you this once.” He shoved the water bottle into my lap. “When I tell you to do something, you do it. From today until death do us part. Got it?”
I debated uncapping the plastic bottle and squirting it in his face.
Those midnight eyes narrowed behind the mask. “Don’t.”
“What?” I shrugged.
“Whatever it is that’s forming in that smart head of yours.” He leaned further, and the scent of leather, smoke, and sin filled my lungs. “Don’t do it.”
“What’s in the bottle?” I snapped.
“Drink it and find out.”
This space between us felt dangerous. There was a wild, reckless part of me that wanted to defy him. I wanted to push him to the edge, see the beauty of such a beast snapping. But that was the same deranged side that craved being tied and feasted on, and that didn’t end so well for me.
Slowly, I turned the plastic cap. He tracked every movement as I drew the bottle to my lips. Salty water spread over my tongue.
I coughed. “What the hell is this?”
“Electrolytes. You haven’t been taking care of yourself.” Satisfied that I had taken a sip, he sat back in his seat, restarted the engine, and depressed the clutch as he shifted into gear.
Good lord, the way he drove was sexy. I continued to sip the water, realizing how thirsty I was, as I watched him maneuver the car. It had been an age since I drove a car, even longer since I drove a stick shift. There was something about the scene that made me ache.
He called me Mandy.
A long-forgotten name was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it with another healthy gulp of water. Somehow, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand the thought of finding out the man behind the mask wasn’t the man who belonged to that forgotten name.
The road curved away from the sea. In minutes, we pulled in front of a small church. A statue of the Madonna, framed with flowers, stood in an alcove, looking the picture of grace, but it wasn’t like the Holy Virgin was going to help a Protestant who didn’t attend church.
As we left the car, a priest ambled out from inside. “Ah! Right on time, the witnesses are already inside.”
Great. The man of God was in league with the masked devil. That was the final nail in the coffin of my life.
“Wait, what witnesses?” I blurted out, rounding on the devil looming behind me.
“For your marriage, my child,” the priest supplied.
The masked man watched me quietly. The truth settled over me, and I wanted to kick myself for not realizing it sooner.
“You stole me so you could marry me yourself.”
“Was that a question?” The devil cocked his head. “Or did you just figure that out?”
“Unbelievable.” I trudged forward. To the priest, I snapped, “I’m doing this under duress. That doesn’t make it legal, I hope you know.”
“The law of man has no authority here, but I’ll take your words into consideration.” The priest held the door open.
This was a madhouse! And I was the nut in the straightjacket for marching down the aisle. Fuming, it took a good minute for me to take in the scene. That and the fact that my eyes took just as long to adjust to the change from sunlight to gloom.
But not depressed gloom.
Oh, no. Gothic, eerie, enchanting gloom. Hundreds of candles illuminated the shadowed sanctuary and they lined the aisle. Taller settings glowed along the sides. From somewhere, the mournful strings of a cello played Sonata No. 7 in D minor.
Vivaldi…Italy.
The masked man stepped behind me, reached into a pew, and plucked out a single rose. Blood red. Simple and elegant. I suddenly pictured a dream from the past. It was only something from the depths of imagination, but it juxtaposed with the present with nearly perfect precision.
This was the wedding I planned with the boy with the forgotten name.
Mandy….
The crimson petals fluttered as the devil gave the flower a small shake, urging me. Some force stronger than my willpower moved me to take it. My fingers glided over the stem, careful not to snag on the thorns.
The masked man swept his hand out. The silent order to march was clear.
I took one long step and then another.
We approached the priest, who stood at the end of the aisle with two men. I faltered when I saw one of them. A hand shot out to steady me. The devil’s touch was warm and solid. I tried not to like it.
“Bill? What the hell?” I snapped, focusing my attention on the man, who was a few inches shorter than me, thanks to the stilettos on my feet.
“Hi, Amanda. Hope you like version number two,” Bill grinned.
I stopped at the end of the aisle and glared at the traitor. “This whole time? You knew?”
“This whole time,” he agreed, jolly, like this was some fine joke. “But here’s a plot twist for you: I’m not even a wedding planner.”
I looked him up and down. “You don’t say.”
The masked man reached out and tore the mustache off Bill’s face.
“Figlio di puttana!” Bill clapped his hand over his upper lip. “The glue, stronzo, the glue!”
The masked man dropped the curling ‘stache on the floor and turned to the priest without an ounce of remorse. “Proceed.”
The priest nodded, but the devil added, “Remember, only the necessary parts.”
“Of course, my son.” The prelate bowed his head, drew in a deep, dramatic breath, and then launched into the service. “Dearly beloved….”
I clutched the rose for dear life. In this surreal turn of events, I was marrying a complete stranger.
Who wasn’t that strange.
I studied the man in the suit. Those muscles were thick, honed from intense labor.
His throat was decorated with ink. Some of the shapes were more visible than others.
The same with the backs of his hands. Each piece was carefully drawn to tell a story, the language one I couldn’t read.
But it was the eyes. Those windows to the soul tripped me up.
If this was the man I suspected him to be, what happened to the soul that lived there?
Was it dead and gone like mine? Or was it gnarled, twisted, and warped into something I wouldn’t recognize even if mine were alive?
“Have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourselves to each other in marriage?” The priest’s question caught my attention.
“I think we can skip that question, Father,” Bill chuckled.
I glared at him.
“Oh, right, right,” the priest muttered, shuffling through his service book. “Will you love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?”
“You’re joking.” I planted my hands on my hips. The rose stem bent under the force.
The priest cleared his throat. “I take that as a no. Moving on….” He frowned, then looked up. “Will you accept children lovingly from God?”
“The vows,” the devil snapped. “Now.”
The priest jumped to obey. “Certainly! Repeat after me—groom first.”
The devil reached for my hands.
I jerked back.
That jaw clenched tight. Lips thinned. Behind the mask, the look in his eye warned not to test him. “Mandy.”
“This isn’t romantic,” I said, but the words felt like a lie.
This wedding was far more perfect than the farce from a few hours ago.
The devil turned up his palms. “Please.”
I wasn’t getting out of this. Holding hands wasn’t a hill to die on.
“Fine.” My palms slapped on his. “Happy?”
His eyes…saddened. “Proceed, Father.”
The priest’s words droned in the background. I didn’t hear them until the devil spoke.
“I take you, Amanda, to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will serve you and honor you all the days of my life.”
It almost felt real.
Play the cards that are dealt….
“Amanda? Repeat after me, are you ready?” the priest questioned.
My mouth opened, but my scrambled brain supplied words where they didn’t belong.
“I take you, Enzo—” the masked man jerked “—to be my husband. I promise to fight you at every twist and turn. To never let our time be good, and never will I love, honor, serve, or obey you. Till death do we part. Per sempre.”
Silence pulsed in the sanctuary.
It’s you. I know it’s you….
Enzo—the man I was forbidden to love.
Taking both hands into one of his large paws, the beast reached behind to snap the mask from his face.
It was him. Vincenzo Messina. The heavens were cruel when they put such a beautiful carving on such a monster.
That hard jaw was the texture of iron. Sharp bones slanted above his cheeks.
And those eyes…oh, good lord, those eyes.
Dripping with black wrath. They didn’t shine with anything I used to know; I barely recognized the inky glare.
Vincenzo’s voice was granite. “Marry us.”
“Are you sure you want those as wedding vows?” the priest cautioned.
“Marry us,” I dared him, not breaking the stare of the monster.
With a heavy sigh, the priest blessed us.
“Lord, look with love upon this woman and this man, whom You have bound together in the covenant of marriage. May their union be filled with grace and laughter, patience in trial, and mercy in every storm. May their home be a place of peace and welcome, and may their hearts never grow weary of love.”
It was as if he were casting a spell. But there was no force powerful enough to undo the actions that led to this nightmare.
“Bless them with joy that endures,” he continued, “with faith that never falters, and with a love that mirrors Your own divine heart. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.”
The priest lowered his hands, a smile softening his face as he looked between us.
I never wanted to stab someone more.
Well, maybe that wasn’t quite true. There was the devil in front of me. But stabbing him felt wrong somehow.
“You have declared your consent before God and His Church,” the priest concluded. “May the Lord, in His goodness, strengthen your bond and fill you both with His blessings. By the authority vested in me by the Church, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
The words were a clap of thunder in my chest. Caught in the moment, I didn’t see the monster strike.
Vincenzo Messina, a king of the underworld, shot forward, grabbing me around the waist and bending me over.
For a split second, our gazes clashed. There was fire and pain, memory and loss.
The world shifted, and then his mouth crashed against mine.
Lightning struck. The kiss carried the power of a wave, a current of strength running electric through the contact.
The feel of his mouth drew me under the water.
I gripped his suit jacket, holding on before I drowned.
As I struggled for air, a far scarier realization jolted me. Like an AED device, the kiss shocked something deep in my chest. The electrical spark penetrated the walls I built around the tomb. The stone cracked, and my soul pulsed with a beat of life.
I tried to scream, fighting the resuscitation.
But with a growl, Vincenzo covered my mouth, deepening the kiss. He was hot, burning my hands. He poured every drop of his feelings into me, forcing me to accept his terms without the hope of mercy.
The church spun as buried emotions surfaced.
I was helpless in their wake. To my horror, I realized that I was kissing the monster back. There was nothing gentle about the caress. He threatened to consume me, and I fought back with everything I had.
As sudden as the contact was, it was over just as sharply. Vincenzo reared back. If he hadn’t been holding me, I would have toppled over. My chest heaved as I struggled to draw the much needed air into my lungs.
Those deep brown eyes—because, yes, they weren’t black, now that I knew them—studied me for a beat. Whatever conclusion he came to, he kept to himself. Without a word, he grabbed my hand, tore it from his jacket, and marched us down the aisle.
No farewell to the witnesses, no chance to be congratulated. This was it. We were married.
Enzo and Mandy….
I fell into the front seat of the car, and the monster slammed the door behind me.
Only because I was watching him did I see him rake a hand through his hair as he walked behind the car.
It was him. The beautiful fiend who possessed the grown body of the boy I once knew.
Vincenzo shrugged out of his suit jacket, ripped the tie from his throat, and popped the top buttons open.
Clearly, this worked him up just as much as it had me.