6
I do
T he sun was shining high in the sky.
The blue sky was completely cloudless, and there was a good reason for that: all the dense, gray, threatening clouds were inside me, about to create the worst storm.
I clenched my teeth when my mother handed me off to the arm of Massimo Capuleto, also known as the Capo.
He was a large, robust man with salt-and-pepper hair and a thin mustache over his upper lip, reminiscent of old gangster movies. He had tanned skin and a scrutinizing gaze.
He examined me as someone accustomed to having everything under control would.
”Bellisima!” he exclaimed, pleased.
I forced a dry smile and offered him a slight nod, which he overlooked.
He wasn”t going to limit himself to a greeting like that. He grabbed my shoulders with total familiarity and planted two firm kisses on my cheeks that I immediately wanted to wipe off.
I restrained myself and counted to ten.
”Thank you,” was my only response.
He was dressed in a sober suit, strictly black, with a white shirt and a green tie. Overall, he was handsome, a bit overweight but handsome.
Massimo told my mother and sisters to take a seat, saying we wouldn”t leave until they were settled.
For my part, only they three attended as direct family along with seven of my trusted men.
I didn”t think it appropriate to involve anyone else; after all, it was a damn charade, I wasn”t getting married for love nor was I happy. This was nothing more than a play, and I was its lead actor.
With no male relatives, my mother and Massimo agreed that he would walk me down the aisle.
This reminded me even more of the absence of my father, my brother, and my uncle. I had called the latter to break the news of the wedding, asking him to accompany me and to call Putin to convince him that my plan was solid. Of course, he agreed. Besides giving me some advice, he pulled strings minutes before a bastard ended his life.
I looked through the glass window without seeing. Everything was set up in the amphitheater. The flowers, the guests, the arch covered with white flowers, the string quartet that would play during the ceremony, and of course, the priest.
The Capuletos were Catholic and would not have accepted a civil wedding for anything in the world.
Luckily, my father was Orthodox Christian, so we were all baptized and there was no major issue in formalizing the marriage in the church. For Massimo Capuleto, it was a sine qua non condition.
I raised no objections when we discussed it. We would be married by the same priest who baptized his children and gave them their First Communion.
The Capuletos had a son and a daughter; there would have been more if Luciana, the matriarch and late wife of Massimo, hadn”t had three miscarriages. Lucky for me, fewer people to kill.
I glanced at him sideways. He looked pleased, much more than I was on the inside.
”Did you have a good time last night with your sisters?” he asked. I wasn”t sure whether to take it as a reproach for having left him dressed up with no future daughter-in-law.
”Yes, a thousand apologies, I know you wanted us to dine with you, but it was the last single night I was going to spend with them, and we made plans before traveling from St. Petersburg to Marbella. Everything was tied up.”
”No need to apologize, I understand, I was young once too. We have a whole lifetime to get to know each other and for you to integrate into the family. I”m sure my son is just as pleased as I am to see such a beautiful, educated, and intelligent woman he is going to marry. You will give me handsome, strong grandchildren.”
I tensed up; children were not in the contract and definitely not in my plans, and I would least of all harbor a seed of evil in my womb.
Massimo handed me a bouquet of white flowers.
”I hope you like them, they are peonies, my wife”s favorite flowers. She used to say they symbolized abundance, wealth, good fortune, and prosperity, exactly what I want for my son and for you. It”s my way of having her present at the ceremony.”
”Thank you, they are beautiful.”
”Per favore, call me by my first name, you are almost my daughter.” ?Not in this lifetime, ? I thought.
”As you wish,” I forced the response.
Right now, my father must be turning in his grave wherever he was. ”I”m sorry, dad, it”s necessary,” I excused myself.
The first chords of the string quartet reached my ears. Massimo asked for permission to lower my veil and I consented. I didn”t have to stoop. The Capo was a tall man, which made me think of the biker from the warehouse. He truly matched my level in terms of sexual matters.
As soon as my face was covered, he placed one of my hands on his arm, the other held the flowers.
My palms were ice cold and sweaty, the result of nerves. I might have had a reputation for being as cold as steel, but I also suffered from bouts of nerves. Composure under pressure was not my greatest virtue. I had to work hard on that too, as I was quite volatile.
Two little girls, daughters of a cousin of my future husband, carrying little baskets full of petals, were encouraged to go ahead of me by a woman from the wedding planning team.
The brown curls of the children fell over their beautiful organza dresses. Their smiling faces set off to make their entrance down the white carpet.
My future father-in-law patted my hand. I hadn”t realized I was gripping his arm tightly. I tried to relax.
Massimo called out to someone. I saw the silhouette of a child, the same one I had noticed sitting off to the side next to the ring pillow.
”Adriano, vai,” my future father-in-law urged. I couldn”t see very well with so many layers of tulle in front of my eyes; I should have asked for a less dense veil. Still, I saw the gesture; the little boy lifted his chin and I felt his scrutinizing gaze on me.
He turned briskly and followed behind the girls.
”Scusa, he still has to get used to the idea that his father is getting married.” The impact of that statement was like what the dinosaurs must have felt when the meteorite hit the Earth.
I blinked several times under the veil.
”What? How?” I swallowed hard.
”Didn”t I tell you? Sorry, sometimes there are details I forget. I have a grandson, let”s just say it”s a recent development, I hope you don”t mind, you look like you like children.” ?”Of course, at someone else”s house, ? I thought. ”My son will fill you in, don”t worry. The time has come. Are you ready?” My legs felt like jelly.
A child! A child! That was not in the contract, nor in my plans! I felt like screaming at him.
Massimo patted my hand again and started walking before I could utter the stuck reproaches in my throat. I felt bile rising and falling at the same pace as we descended the steps. As clear as the day was, I still couldn”t see well through the layers of tulle. I should have tried on the veil beforehand, though perhaps it was better this way. Not seeing clearly wrapped me in a sort of bubble, camouflaging the expression on my face, which was not that of a happy bride.
I focused on not tumbling down the stairs while my future father-in-law acted as a guide dog.
There were many eyes on me, specifically four hundred and sixty. Ten belonged to my sisters and my men; the rest to the Capuletos, their family, and friends. I wanted something discreet, but Massimo said his firstborn wasn”t getting married every day and that he would foot the bill for the wedding.
I couldn”t even concentrate on the notes floating above our heads, the contained ”ohs” at seeing the design, or the compliments on the sparkle it emitted.
The only thing I could clearly hear was the frantic rhythm of the heartbeats threatening to thrust my heart through my neckline.
The petal-laden path came to an end, as did the movement of our feet. We had just stepped onto the altar, and Massimo positioned himself in front of me, blocking any view I might have of my future husband.
I bit my lower lip and prayed he wasn”t cross-eyed. I don”t know why I thought of such a thing, but I did. I had envisioned a thousand faces for my enemy, and I was sure that none would resemble the man behind my future father-in-law.
The absolute silence fell as the lower part of the veil was lifted.
Was it moving slower than usual, or was it just me seeing everything in slow motion?
I squeezed my eyes shut as the veil reached my nose. I was so agitated I thought I might faint at any moment, and I had never fainted outright. Although, of course, I had never been married either.
I felt the heat of the sun on my face and two kisses again claimed my cheeks before Massimo stepped away to leave me alone with his son. I carefully parted my eyelids, and upon focusing, I almost burst into laughter.
My wicked mind had given my future husband the face of the biker I”d been with hours earlier!
I closed and opened my eyes several times, but his face remained there, serious, lacking the sparkle it had last night. It couldn”t be, my mother hadn”t let me have more vodka.
The one getting cross-eyed was me from staring at him so much, until I realized I couldn”t see any face but his. God, he really had affected me!
I raised my right hand and slapped myself so hard that the sound echoed through the amphitheater, followed by the surprised gasps of the guests at what I had just done. I hoped they would think it was a Russian custom and not a blatant need to snap out of seeing the guy I”d slept with the night before my wedding.
My cheek burned; I hadn”t been gentle. R Capuleto gave me a toothless smile and turned his face to the crowd.
”Relax, everyone, it”s nothing, my future wife just can”t believe this isn”t a dream. She”s very excited that I”ve shown up.” ?The idiot! ?
Laughter rippled through the crowd. When he turned back to me, his expression was stone-cold.
”You!” I muttered. I was about to deliver the same punishment to him, or worse.
”Hello, cupcake, I almost didn”t recognize you with all your clothes on, thought you were a meringue topped with glitter instead of the bride.” He looked me up and down with disdain.
”Is this some kind of joke? Because it”s not fucking funny,” I growled.
”That mouth...” he scolded, clicking his tongue.
”Where”s your boss? Did he send you here so I could make a fool of myself? Is that why Capuleto agreed? So that I”d marry a drug dealer instead of his son? Is this some kind of twisted revenge?” I said through clenched teeth.
”No, darling, the only son of Massimo Capuleto here is me, and soon I”ll be your husband.”
”You can”t be my husband!”
”Why? Because you came like a bitch on my mouth, my hands, and my crotch last night? Because you thought you were screwing one of my workers instead of me?” A slight cough warned us that we were not alone and that the priest had turned beet red. I felt heat climbing up my face. ”Scusa, padre,” apologized that fool.
A thousand thoughts crossed my mind, but one… one took the cake.
”Tell me something. Did you know it was me?” He offered me a despotic smile.
”From the moment you walked through the door.”
I wanted to scratch him, spit in his face, shove the damn bouquet up his ass, and wipe that cynical smile off his face with a bite that would tear out his tongue. How could he let me believe it wasn”t him and do all that he did last night?
”So, what”s it going to be, Koroleva?” he dragged my last name across his tongue. ”Are you leaving or staying?” Neither he nor anyone else was going to ruin my plans, no matter how much of a bastard he was.
I offered him a venomous, cynical smile.
”I can”t wait to give you the ”I do,” Capulleto,” I stressed the ”L”, making sure he noticed that I purposefully mispronounced his name, turning it into an insult.
He looked at me defiantly before turning to the priest and nodding.
The ceremony continued.