Chapter Eleven
Vida
A s I stand here looking in the mirror at myself, I don’t recognize the woman staring back at me. She feels strange, new, sad, and so different from who I was four months ago. I had saved a million wedding dresses on my Pinterest board, and Adam always helped me pick the ones he thought were great. But now, looking into this mirror, staring at this stranger, I don’t know if this would be a dress Adam would have let me save. I do know what he would have said though.
“Oh my goodness, baby, you look beautiful! How did we miss this one?” he would say excitedly before dragging me closer to kiss me.
I miss him, today more than ever. It’s supposed to be my big day, yet I feel so small, so insignificant, so . . . alone.
“I have something for you!” Carmela’s voice echoes through the room, bringing me back from my depressing thoughts.
I turn to her, flashing the brightest smile I can conjure. I had promised myself that I wouldn’t make anyone worry, and these past two days I would like to believe that I’ve been doing a pretty good job. Now I lie and pretend to be happy, who am I becoming?
“Don’t tell me you bought a whole building for me to move into,” I joke.
When Carmela said she was trying to impress me, she meant every word. After playing the piano during dinner, she had gotten one customized just for me. I can’t lie, I do enjoy being spoiled, but I didn’t think Carmela would be putting so much effort into ‘impressing me’.
”No need, we already have so many houses, you can choose one,” she giggles, walking towards me.
“So, what is it then? Do not tell me you got me that sex toy you were talking about,” I ask, covering my mouth as the words come out.
If someone told me last week that I would be checking out toys in a sex shop, I would have probably slapped the person. But here I was, in this new dreadful life, checking out sex toys with Carmela and Izzy. It was Izzy’s department, so it was easy for her to blend in with Carmela, but I looked like a lost sheep and they made it more awkward when they caught me staring at . . . what was it called again?
“Spreader bars?” Spreader bars! That’s the one! “Izzy did say something about . . .”
“I didn’t say shit!” Izzy cuts in, Carmela shushing her as she walks towards us.
Carmela is honestly the sweetest person I’d met after Lisa. How she’d fit herself into Izzy and I’s relationship so flawlessly is beyond me. She’s like the sister we both needed, the one we found in Lisa; the one we now have in Italy.
“Have you shown her?” Izzy asks, peaking my curiosity.
“Okay, if you know about it, I want to know about it too. Show me already,” I urge, not knowing if I should be afraid or excited.
“Here,” Carmela says, holding up a necklace, a very beautiful necklace.
“Oh my goodness! Carmela! Did you buy this? It’s so beautiful,” I exclaim, taking the necklace in my hands. It looks so heavy, yet feels so light. There’s no doubt in the world that these are real silver and pearls, and they matched my dress perfectly.
“They were my mom’s,” she replies, watching me stare at it in awe.
“Oh my! Cam, they’re perfect and beautiful,” I say, running my fingers over it gently. I fear that if I hold it too tightly, I will ruin it.
“I want you to have it,” she says, her words taking me by surprise.
“What? No! I could never,” I lie. Of course I would, they’re gorgeous! But they were her mother’s. I don’t deserve it, it’s too precious, even for a sister-in-law.
“Oh please. I don’t like shiny things and I’m sure Ciro or Father won’t be using it anytime soon,” she assures me.
“Still, I mean, what would your dad say?” I ask.
“He’s okay with it. He wants you to have it. Plus, will you leave your neck and chest bare? Come on, let me put it on already!” she insists, taking the necklace from me and turning me to face the mirror again.
“Nothing has fit more perfectly, baby sis,” Izzy says as Carmela clasps the necklace, the last part bringing tears to my eyes. Every time she calls me that is her sign for an upcoming waterfall of tears.
“Don’t you dare cry on me,” I tease, looking at her through the mirror.
“You’re crying, I’m not,” she laughs, carefully swiping away the tears that had built up behind her eyelids.
“You look beautiful,” Carmela breathes. It almost sounds like a fact, rather than a compliment, and it makes me feel even more beautiful.
“I’ll go let them know that you’re ready alright?” Carmela says, placing a light kiss on my cheek before giving Izzy a quick hug.
She’s giving us some time alone and I’m grateful for that. These past two days it felt like Izzy was distant, and I was grateful Carmela was giving us this moment.
“You make a beautiful bride, Vee,” Izzy smiles, walking closer to me.
“Let’s sit,” I say, ushering for us to take a seat. These heels are already killing me and the day’s main event hasn’t even started yet! Why didn’t I wear the sneakers I had gotten again? Oh yes! It wasn’t very ‘traditional’, like Mom had put it.
“It sucks not being Adam’s bride,” I scoff, my flimsy attempt at a joke ending up hurting more than I’d liked it too.
“Vee,” Izzy sighs, turning to me, about to be comforting.
“It was a joke Izzy,” I laugh, meaning it.
“When they said they were the most notorious mafia family, I didn’t think it would be like this,” she laughs, saying the same thing I had been thinking since the moment they came to our house for dinner.
“Carmela might be adopted,” I laugh.
“And the real Matteo is in hiding,” she jokes.
“And everyone here is just playing along,” I add, the joke making us both feel less tense.
“But I can promise you that the man I’m getting married to is the real deal,” I say, this time not joking.
His words from the other day linger in my memory. His question, and the satisfaction of my answer, sitting front row center in my thoughts. Everything about that screamed dangerous and I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
“Have you seen him?” she asks and I shake my head. I didn’t want to. I honestly hoped not to, at least not until we’re at the altar.
“I love you, Vee, and I will always be so proud of you,” she says, her words melting my heart.
“I know big sis, I love you, too. And you look gorgeous in that dress,” I say, staring at her with a raised brow. I know Izzy way too well, it didn’t matter that it was my wedding, she looked extra hot. That only happened when . . .
“You’ll see why,” she smirks, reading my mind.
Of course, I would. I would see ‘him’.
“Speaking of, I have to go keep a seat for hi . . . someone,” she says, standing up in a hurry and making her way to the door. “See you out there!”
Two days here and she already has a date, yet I have no idea where the man I’m getting married to is. Anyway, I don’t care and I prefer it that way.
After sending a few quick texts to Lisa and her mom, I hear footsteps as someone enters the room.
“Not again,” I mutter, rolling my eyes as they fall on him.
“Shouldn’t you be mad that I’m seeing you in your dress?” he asks, a cocky look on his smug face.
“Mad at seeing you? Yes. Aside from that, no,” I reply, putting my phone in my purse beside me. I turn to look at him before asking, “why are you . . .”
“What is that?” his voice cuts in, his eyes narrowing on me.
“What?” I ask, confused. What is with him now?
He stares straight at me like he is going to explode. Is this man bipolar? What does he want this time? To ask me what body part I wanted? Cause if it was, I wasn’t going to answer him.
“Who the fuck gave you that!?” His question burns something in me. He’s angry. Why on earth would he be angry? What did I do?
“Fucking answer me!” he almost roars.
What has gotten into him? Why do I feel almost afraid when I did nothing wrong?
“What are you talking . . .” I stop, following his gaze; my neck.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Carmela gave it to me. She said it was okay to use,” I try to explain.
“Remove it,” he orders.
“What? I just told you . . .”
“I don’t fucking care what you told me, get that shit off of your fucking neck . . . or I’ll snap it,” he says, his last words coming out as more of a promise than a threat.
I hate this man. I hate him so much that he makes my skin crawl.
“Fine,” I say, removing the necklace from my neck.
Carmela said I could wear it, but I’m only removing it because it wasn’t hers, it was their mother’s. Both of them, and I respected that, even if Ciro had decided to be a dick about it.
“Here, happy?” I ask, stretching the necklace toward him.
“Don’t ever wear her things, ever!” he warns through gritted teeth.
Her things? Why can’t he say her name or at least call her mom?
“Do you understand me?” he adds, standing there, waiting for a reply.
“Please leave. I need to get ready,” I mutter, standing up and turning away from him.
After a few seconds, I hear the sound of his steps walking away, leaving me with my emotions, feelings I hated, and questions I didn’t want to learn the answers to.
I can count the amount of faces I know as I walk up the aisle, and that number doesn’t even add up to ten. Having so many unfamiliar faces staring at me makes something inside of me twist with agony. This is the world I’m marrying into and I’m not sure how to feel about it.
As my gaze leaves the faces of those around me, I take in the decorations. Carmela was right, it’s all beautiful. Everything from the color to the arrangements to the seats, makes the place absolutely breathtaking. It may not have been the type of wedding I wanted or dreamed of, but it is a wedding that makes me love Carmela even more. She’d helped pull all of this together in just a few days, and I can’t help but feel grateful that I have someone like her here who will go above and beyond to make me feel comfortable.
My gaze sweeps next to the man I’m about to marry. His black suit fits him perfectly, just like the first time I saw him standing outside of my room back home. His jet-black hair is styled neatly, like he’d applied all the gel in the world to ensure no strand was out of place. He looks tired, or maybe just bored, almost like he is ready for the day to be over. That’s a feeling I can understand all too well.
Looking at our wedding party, I take in how beautiful Isabella and Carmela look as they stand at the altar waiting. The difference in their smiles is clear to me, Izzy’s looks slightly forced with a hint of sadness, while Carmela’s smile screams excitement. She’s getting a new sister, while my sister feels more like she’s losing one. All I want to do is tell her that she will never lose me. She’s stuck with me for life, whether she likes it or not.
Behind Ciro stands a man I’ve never seen before and Cito, their eyes all locked on me as I take each step towards them. Ciro leans over and whispers something into the other guy’s ear, their eyes still not leaving me, and I find myself wondering what he’s saying. Is he mocking me? Is it about my necklace earlier or the one I’m wearing now?
I take a deep breath as we approach the end of the aisle, letting all of my thoughts fade away with the music. He shouldn’t complain about this necklace, this one was one his father had brought in shortly after he left. It was like he’d had a feeling his son wouldn’t like the idea of me wearing his mother’s necklace, so he was prepared to replace it. I had planned to thank him again right after the church ceremony, in front of Ciro too, so I could chip in the reason I wasn’t wearing the necklace Carmela gave me. Call it petty, but I don’t care.
“Here we are,” Dad says as the song stops as we do.
“Dad,” I whisper, looking at him through my veil, not sure why I’ve called him. Maybe as a last attempt to say no to all of this and ask my parents to take me back home? If it was, it doesn’t work.
“I love you, Mija ,” he says, placing a kiss on my forehead before letting go of my hand.
I turn to face Ciro, who has his hand outstretched for me, and wish I could be doing anything but taking his hand. As I place my hand in his, it hits me that there is no turning back now. This is the second time I’ve felt his skin against mine, the first being when I’d thought it was Carmela trying to help with the zipper on my dress, and there’s something different about knowingly touching him.
“You’re doing great,” Isabella whispers in my ear, making me take another deep breath.
“We gather here today,” the priest starts, signaling that it is almost time for the vows and for us to lie in front of all these fine people and God. Everything I’m about to say is nothing but lies, and it makes them forbidden.
Every word that falls from the priest’s mouth only makes me want to puke more, not out of irritation, but something else. I feel sick to my stomach, and all I want to do is crawl into the dark and hide.
“Repeat after me,” the priest says, getting my attention. I give him a slight nod before turning to face Ciro.
“I,” he starts, “say your name.”
“I, Vida Mariposa Thorne,” I recite.
“Take thee,” he continues, before adding, “say his name.”
“Take thee, Ciro Ballera,” I repeat, his name sounding foreign on my tongue.
“To be my lawfully wedded husband,” the priest says, which I repeat.
“To have and hold from this day forward, for better . . .”
“Can we skip all of these things already?” Ciro cuts in, making the priest and I look up at him in confusion and shock.
“E-excuse me?” the priest whispers, his voice showing his nerves.
“Can’t you see you’re torturing her? I’ll take it from here,” he replies, leaving no room for argument. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought he was doing it to spare my torture, but I know better. He just wants to get this over with. He doesn’t care if this is torturing me or not.
“Is that alright?” the priest asks as he turns to me, and I nod in agreement. I don’t know if he can see my smile through my veil, but I still flash him a smile anyway.
“Alright then, repeat after me,” he says, turning to Ciro.
“No need, I can take it from here,” Ciro says before starting. “I, Ciro Ballera, take thee, Vida Mariposa Thorne, to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward . . .”
I watch as the words come out of his mouth and wonder how he can lie so well. It’s like he’s been practicing for years, he is that convincing. How can he stand here, holding my hands, eyes locked with mine, and lie so smoothly? Maybe the Ballera were notorious for more than just killings. Maybe they’re manipulative too, and I am getting to see it happen right in front of me.
“In sickness and in health, to love and to cherish,” he continues to lie.
He doesn’t love me or cherish me, so how can it be so easy for him to say these things? Not one muscle in his body gives him away.
“Till death do us part,” he concludes, his eyes not leaving mine.
“With the power vested in me, I pronounce you . . .” the priest starts, dread flowing through me as his next words leave his mouth, “man and wife.”
My eyes close as my heart sinks into my stomach. I don’t want to kiss him. I hate being in the same space as him, so how can I possibly kiss him?
“Ciro, you may now kiss your bride,” the priest says with a smile.
I watch as Ciro takes a step closer to me, his hands slowly lifting the veil away from my face and over my head. His eyes drop to my neck, his gaze trailing over my new necklace. Does he feel bad for what he’d done earlier? Or maybe he’s just glad I’m not wearing his mother’s necklace anymore and doesn’t care what I have on now.
“I will kiss you now,” he mutters, low enough for only me to hear.
He’s telling me he was going to kiss me. He doesn’t even have the decency to ask, and before I can even nod, his lips are pressing against my cheek. My cheek? Though I’m glad he didn’t kiss me on the lips, I don’t understand why I’m angry. Am I not good enough to be kissed on the lips? What am I thinking? I don’t care what he thinks of me. I’m glad I didn’t have to kiss him. I didn’t want to anyways.
The applause from the crowd breaks me from my thoughts. The two of us turn and face them, finding everyone applauding loudly and smiling big. Their emotions were so different from my own. They were happy for us, while I’d just married Ciro Ballera and entered into a nightmare I wished wouldn’t come true.
After greeting our guests and chatting with so many people I had never met, my legs are ready to give out on me. I need to sit, but Ciro doesn’t look like he cares enough to even look at me. If he had, then maybe he would have seen how I’m practically limping around with him.
“Hey, sister-in-law,” Franchesco calls, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
Franchesco, the man who had stood behind Ciro at the altar, I’ve learned is Ciro’s best friend. I don’t know how someone so filled with life can have someone like Ciro as a best friend, but here we are.
“Hi,” I say softly as I smile at him before I turn my gaze back to Ciro, who is currently talking to a pot-bellied man whom he’d introduced to me as Mr. Raymond, a business associate of the family. I can’t make out what they are talking about exactly with their hushed tones, but I knew it had to do with a casino.
“What’s wrong? You look like you’re in pain,” Franchesco asks, noticing my wince as I shift on my feet.
“My feet are killing me,” I admit.
“Why the fuck are you still standing?” he laughs, shaking his head at me.
“He won’t stop introducing me to people,” I reply, looking at Ciro.
“This fucker! Brother! Man, your girl might lose a toe if she doesn’t sit down,” Franchesco says, smacking Ciro on the shoulder.
“What?” he asks, turning to look between the two of us.
“Her feet hurt. If you’d even taken a second to look at her, you’d know she’s in pain,” Franchesco scoffs, shaking his head in disappointment.
Not wanting to talk to him, I look everywhere but his face. I had no plans of telling him anything since he’s already made it clear that he doesn’t care.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ciro asks.
“You were too busy being the center of attraction. Wouldn’t want to step in your spotlight,” I reply sarcastically.
“Now you won’t be stepping on anything, cause you’re about to lose your toes,” he retorts.
Was that supposed to be a joke?
“I’ll go sit, you can go back to chatting with everyone,” I mutter, turning to head for our table.
“You’re not going anywhere without me beside you,” he scoffs, his hand grabbing my arm and holding me back.
“Then you should be following me, not digging your fingers into my skin,” I grit out, yanking my arm from his hold.
“You two are cute,” Franchesco says, shaking his head as he laughs.
“Shut it,” I order before doing my best to walk towards my seat.
“Yes ma’am,” Franchesco replies, raising his hands in defeat.
“Go be useful somewhere else,” Ciro says, following closely behind me.
“Sure thing, married man,” he teases, before turning and heading toward wherever he’d come from.