Chapter 12
Chapter
Twelve
Three weeks later
Lucy
The rain splattered on the window. They said rain on one’s wedding day was a blessing. I wasn’t sure about that. It was a rare moment that I was alone in the bridal room. All the pictures were done and we were waiting for the ceremony to begin.
I wore a beautiful ivory taffeta gown. The sweetheart draped bodice flared beautifully into a full skirt edged with bias-cut ruffles. Shabby chic yet couture. But I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror when I was alone because I might talk myself out of going through with the ceremony.
My stomach twisted with nerves and a riot of butterfly wings. I forced myself to look out the window and let the pitter-patter of rain calm me down. Lush green trees and acres and acres of green surrounded the event space. Green evoked calm, remember?
I wondered how many runaway brides had stood at this very window. I wondered if they repeated the pros and cons like I did. I wondered if I was going to be a runaway bride statistic.
The creak of the door signaled its opening. I was expecting Margo Winthrop to come in and tell me it was time. But no, it was Sloane and Sera. “What are you two doing here?”
“Well, you’ve been avoiding us. Silencing our texts and calls.” Sera hurried toward me. “And since you have no older sister, it’s fallen upon me, your eldest girl cousin, to talk you out of this. Or do you want the men to handle it because I can’t guarantee there won’t be blood?”
Despite the threat, I laughed.
“I know Margo runs a tight, secretive ship,” Sera continued. “But it’s not sitting right with us that we couldn’t even throw you a bachelorette party. Tell us what’s wrong? We can get you out of here. Out of the country if necessary.”
I glanced at the door.
“Zio Luca is occupying Margo,” Sera said. “Uncle Paulie is giving the greatest performance of his life to distract Lottie.”
“I’m doing the right thing,” I whispered.
“He’s blackmailing you!” Sloane exclaimed. “Dom suspects it has to do with Davenport and that Viktor guy.”
“Keep your voice down,” I hissed.
Sera grabbed my shoulders, her eyes pleading. “Don’t do this, cuz. Don’t throw your life away to the bratva.”
I laughed. A laugh I’d practiced quite a bit.
My cousins and I had only become closer in the past year since my return to New York.
They couldn’t read all of my moods yet. Besides, I’d practiced a lot on Kirill.
He totally bought my gullibility. I never overdid it.
My job as a fixer came in handy. I knew how to pretend or affect a certain persona depending on who I was dealing with—politicians, their aides, or lobbyists.
“I’m not throwing my life away. Kirill is quite a catch.”
“He’s one cold motherfucker,” Sloane said.
“He’s just different, that’s all,” I said. “You’ve seen our pictures online.”
After the lunch date that fateful Sunday, Kirill escorted me to a gala and an art auction. He told me the repatriation of Viktor’s remains to Moscow went smoothly and to Peter’s satisfaction. So, the only thing I had to worry about was going through with the ceremony.
Sera scoffed. “That can easily be faked.”
“Look, I really appreciate the intervention, but it’s unnecessary.”
The door opened to Margo walking in. Following her were Luca and my parents. Mamma’s panic-stricken face almost made me laugh. She really wanted this wedding to happen.
“You two need to return to your seats,” Margo chillingly informed Sera and Sloane. “The wedding march is about to begin.”
When they hesitated, she added, “Do you really think I’m forcing Lucy to marry Kirill?”
“She’s really not,” I said.
Margo glared at Luca. “I don’t appreciate being misled. It isn’t true, is it, that you’re signing up your son for a covenant?”
I gasped and glowered at my uncle. “You’re not serious. He’s only four!”
“Of course not,” Luca said. “Natalya will never forgive me if I go behind her back again, but she’ll want to do more validation of your outfit. It’ll fully depend on how successful this match between Kirill and Lucy will go.”
Oh, my uncle’s subtle warning was a power move.
“Maybe in the future, hmm?” he continued as if he hadn’t delayed Margo so Sera and Sloane could talk to me. “We’ll consider it when Elias is old enough to make his own decision.”
“Fine,” Margo clipped. “Please escort the women back to their seats. We’re running late as it is.”
Luca gave me a speaking glance before offering the crook of his arm to Mamma, and they left with Sera and Sloane, who both also cast me a “we’re ready whenever you are” look.
Before following them, Margo checked her phone. “Kirill is already making his way down the aisle. Don’t take too long.”
The matchmaker gave Dad a pointed look before leaving to give us privacy.
My father was about to open his mouth, but I cut him off. “I’m not changing my mind.”
I clasped his face between my palms. “I’ll be fine, Dad. Kirill and I might not have the romance you had with Mamma, but everyone is different. I’ve never been a romantic, remember?”
“How did you grow up so fast, cara?”
I hated the regret drowning in his eyes. Unless I objected to this wedding, his hands were tied. “Where did I go wrong?”
I gave him a kiss on both cheeks before linking our arms to head toward the event hall.
“You didn’t go wrong anywhere.” It was more Mamma’s manipulations that drove me away from my De Lucci family.
But no, it went further than that. It was my nonno Moretti’s conditional love.
The way he pitted his children against each other to gain his approval.
And I had already formed a revulsion against the mafia way after I witnessed that man’s execution when I was only five years old.
As we left the room, Dad’s dragging footfalls tread heavily on the ancient tiles. The ceremony wasn’t traditional. There were no bridesmaids or flower girls or a ring bearer.
Just my father walking me down the aisle.
Before we reached the entrance of the room where the crowd was waiting, I said, “Remember when I said if I ever had the desire to marry, I would just elope and get married on the beach? I never desired a big wedding.”
Because it was what Mamma wanted. And I’d grown up all my life aspiring to do the opposite.
And as the ushers opened the heavy double doors to announce the bride, the sea of people rose.
Most of those in attendance were from the Italian and Russian mafias and distinguished associates and allies.
At least there was my De Lucci and Moretti family, even if a few were absent like Bianca and Sandro.
Renz and Liz stayed away too and were looking after Elias and Gio while their parents attended the wedding.
My ears were thundering as Dad and I walked down an intricately woven, rolled-out carpet that appeared to be centuries old. One that Margo traditionally used for her matches.
There was no orchestra or symphony. There was simply an organ playing the traditional wedding march.
At the end of the aisle stood Kirill. Ramrod straight and admittedly looking dashing in his tux.
It clung to his imposing frame, and his patrician features gave away nothing.
His icy eyes followed me down the aisle.
Beside him stood Maksim. I’d only met his half brother once during the signing of the prenup.
Ivan, Irina, and Aralina sat in the front row. At least they were smiling widely at me, and they were all who mattered to me from the Zahkarov side.
Mamma sat beside an empty chair closest to the aisle, which was where Dad would be sitting after he delivered me to Kirill.
Beside Mamma were Dom and then Luca. Then, there were Uncle Cesar, Matteo, and Nico.
Their women, Sloane, Natalya, Aunt Ava, Sera, and Ivy, were near an exit surrounded by De Lucci and Moretti soldiers.
They were still expecting me to be a last-minute runaway bride and were prepared to whisk me away.
I wasn’t sure whether I was pleased or appalled by it.
It probably explained a stone-faced Kirill.
None of my family except Mamma had accepted him.
I didn’t think it mattered, but I was petty enough to be pleased he was irritated.
Tension agitated the air, and the bodice of my gown tightened. The bridal song echoed in my head like a death march. My gaze swept across the room once more in a dizzying arc. I was thankful to be holding on to Dad.
Almost there. And then this will be over.
Kirill stepped forward, a trace of impatience on his face. He was eager to get this charade over with too.
He and Dad stared at each other as Kirill offered me his arm. I clasped his proffered arm, but I had trouble letting go of Dad. And Dad’s hand tightened on my hand clasping his elbow.
Murmurings erupted around the room, and I could feel my male relatives ready to spring.
My breathing quickened.
“Lucy,” Dad rasped. “It’s not too late.”
A tentative smile formed on Kirill’s mouth, breaking the severity of his features.
If I hadn’t witnessed firsthand the depth of his deception, I’d have chalked it up to his earnest attempt to reassure my father of his honorable intentions.
But I knew now it was nothing but absolute wicked calculation.
“Lusenka,” he said for everyone to hear. “For this to work, you need to let go of your father.”
A round of laughter broke around the room, breaking the standoff.
It actually made me breathe easier, injecting a measure of relief into my frayed nerves.
If there was one thing Kirill was good at, it was diffusing a tense situation—when he chose to.
Probably because he was always the reason for the tension.
He glanced above my head to address the room. “Papa’s girl.” He gave a shake of his head and smiled dazzlingly at Dad. “No one is worthy of your daughter, Paulie, but I will try my best.”