Chapter 9 #3
“Well, no, because Carmine isn’t letting me at him, but maybe he’ll let you after the reception. You’re brothers, after all,” she suggests.
I nod slowly. “Yes, he did promise me after this that I can talk to the shooter, or the driver. Whoever it is.”
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Damian cuts in.
“Why not?” I ask. “It’s not the first time I’ve interrogated someone.”
“I can’t be there,” he retorts. “I have to stay with Rosalie.”
Rosalie glances between us. “He’s done just fine without you this far,” she reminds Damian.
I gain a little bit more respect for her in this moment.
Still, I can sense Damian’s anxiety, and I wonder if the sexual exchange between us has anything to do with it.
The last thing I need is him trying to keep me from my job. My family. Carmine is already doing a damn good job at trying that.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure him.
Damian nods stiffly, and looks out of the window, not saying anything else for the remainder of the ride to the reception.
The car is silent until we get to the banquet hall. It’s decorated similarly to the cathedral. Except that there are guards on every corner of the building, inside and out—they had been a little more inconspicuous at the church.
I highly doubt that will actually stop someone if they want to get to us.
Nevertheless, we have to do the reception. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t, but clearly, nothing is up to me.
My jaw tenses. I take a deep breath, and then get out of the car. I hold the door open for Rosalie, and then take her hand to help her up.
Neither of these things I have to do, but they look nice for the cameras. Plus, something about the sadness in her eyes as we drove got to me.
As much as she says she’s a willing participant, I have a hard time believing it.
I continue to hold her hand as we head into the reception. We’re introduced as “Mr. and Mrs. Dresvanni.” I’m surprised, considering I wasn’t expecting that Rosalie would take my last name. Apparently so.
It’s much like the rehearsal, except people are clearly on edge. Everyone I talk to asks me about the rehearsal, in some vague way at least.
The focus should be on us as a couple, but it’s difficult when everyone is wondering who exactly shot us up the last time they were here.
I don’t blame them. I want to know that too.
“It’s time for your first dance,” Patricia tells us.
I nod and take Rosalie’s hand just like we practiced. I see the uncertain look in her eyes, but she keeps the soft smile on her face all the same. I keep my face relaxed and try to look at only her as we head to the middle of the dance floor.
A long and overly romantic classical song comes on over the speakers as I pull her close to me. I touch her waist and hold her hand firmly and pull her in even closer than she originally stands.
She gives me a look of surprise that quickly fixes itself and she moves along with each of my steps.
“Were you looking at your ex during the ceremony?” I ask her quietly as I move my head to the side of hers, tilting it down toward her ear.
Rosalie stiffens just a bit. She’s quiet, like she’s debating on her answer.
“You can tell me, it’s fine,” I insist.
She sighs. “I was,” she admits. “I can’t believe Eivor put him on the guard team for this.”
“It does seem like a risky move,” I agree. “Unless, he would do anything to protect you.”
Rosalie is quiet for another moment, and I sense a sadness in the way she moves along with my body. Even so, dancing with her is natural, easy. I don’t find it difficult in the slightest.
She might not feel the same. Her pulse is racing. I can feel it in her palm.
“He might,” she finally tells me.
I hum out in response before letting her glide away from me for a spin that gets a few reactions from the crowd before drawing her near once more.
She smells good. Floral and sweet. Not like the soap I used to shower this morning in the safe-house.
It’s enough to distract me from the fact that everyone is staring at us. As though this dance is a grand romantic gesture, rather than simply tradition.
“Why did you break up?” I whisper into her other ear after changing sides.
“Why do you think?” Rosalie asks in return, but doesn’t make me answer. “This.”
“Ah. So, you broke up with him to marry me. I thought you weren’t forced into this.” I can’t help but smirk a little. The idea that Rosalie might be just as miserable as me actually makes me a little giddy. She has been so high and mighty about it all.
“I wasn’t,” she snaps at me, and the dance falters for a second. “I still…I still had to break up with him in order for it to work.”
“He wasn’t willing to share?” I ask her.
Rosalie huffs softly, and hides her face in my hair for a moment. I feel her breath grow heavier. “I wasn’t sure you would be,” she admits. “Plus, it’s just easier this way.”
“Pretending that it’s real? I wouldn’t call it easy,” I mumble as the song comes to an end.
“It’s what we need to do,” Rosalie reminds me. “What Eivor expects.”
I purse my lips, and lean down closer to her face after pulling back. “Maybe,” I tell her. “And just so you know, I don’t care if you’re with your ex.”
Her eyes light up a bit. “You don’t?”
I shake my head lightly. “Why would I?”
A curious look overtakes her. “Is something going on that I don’t know about?” she asks.
My heart lurches into my throat.
All this time I hadn’t quite realized that being so open about not caring if she sees other people while we are married might give away my own interests.
“No,” I lie.
It’s only a partial lie.
Sure, I sucked Damian off and he gave me a hand job, but it isn’t like there’s anything more there. Or it’ll happen again. Right?
She squints at me for a second.
The song is over. People are waiting.
I lean down further and press my lips to hers soft and sweet. Just enough to make the crowd happy.
Then we walk off the dance floor as they clap for us.
Rosalie is taken by Eivor for a dance with him before anything else can be said. The evening goes by quickly, but not quick enough for me.
All I can think about is getting my chance to talk to the scumbag who was part of the plan to kill us.
The cake cutting, dinner, the endless mingling… all of it is in the way of me getting out of here.
Eventually, everyone is so drunk or caught up in talking to each other that I’m finally able to sneak out with Carmine.
“Where are you going?” Damian asks me just as I get to the exit of the reception hall with Carmine at my side.
“To talk to the fucker who shot at us,” I quip under my breath.
“Probably the same guy who planted that bomb that nearly killed Nikolas.” Nearly killed you, is what I want to say.
Frankly I don’t give a damn about Nikolas, I barely know him.
Kid hasn’t said a single word to me tonight…
but Damian? I don’t even want to think about it.
Damian puts a hand on my shoulder and my entire body covers in goosebumps.
Well. That was unexpected.
“I should be there,” Damian insists.
Carmine shakes his head. “You’re needed here to keep an eye on things, protect Rosalie.”
“Why doesn’t Rosalie come? She’s just as much a part of this,” Damian tells us. I can see that he’s just grasping for straws though. He doesn’t care if Rosalie comes or not. He just wants to be there.
The reason why is uncertain, though. Is it for me or some other reason?
“The bride can’t go missing,” I remind him. “Besides, she’ll get her chance to talk to him if she wants it. Just not tonight.”
Damian’s jaw shifts. “Alright.”
He may as well have said fuck you.
I eye him from head to toe.
“Come on, Tommy is waiting in the car,” Carmine says and motions me out.
My eyes lock to Damian’s, and I try to understand him in this moment. Try to sus out what his motive is. Does he just want to be kept in the loop, or does he think I might get hurt?
I shake my head at him, and watch as his face falls into something more relaxed. Trying to tell him without actually speaking that I’ll be okay.
The door opens and Carmine leads me out into the main area before we step into the cold.
I follow him to the car that Tommaso is driving and slip into the back.
While seated in the back, I take off my bow tie and let my hair down, undoing the pins that hold it back and tucking them into one of my tux pockets.
It’s not long before we’re finally back at our estate.
“You’re keeping him here?” I ask curiously.
Carmine walks quicker than me up the icy stairs. “We have what we need to interrogate him here, plus, there’s no one better guarded.”
I nod in agreement. “Better here than at the Fiorelli’s estate, clearly they need our help more than we need theirs,” I scoff. This whole marriage is far more of an advantage for the Fiorelli family than us.
“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Carmine replies. “Let’s keep our focus on getting all the information we can out of this guy. Do not get distracted. He’ll try to use the wedding against you.”
I nod stiffly. “I know what I’m doing, Carmine. I’ve done it before.”
“I know, but this time it’s much closer than ever before. They want you dead, Alessio. Usually they target the head of the family.”
“Maybe that’s saying something that they’re a targeting me this time,” I tell him as we head down into the basement with several arms guards following in front and behind us.
“Don’t start now,” Tommaso grumbles. “Let’s just get to this guy before he tries to kill himself or something.”
I roll my eyes.
The basement is comprised of three rooms with solid concrete walls and doors so heavy that it takes two guards to push it open once they’re unlocked by both key and keypad.
“You’re the one who always starts shit, Tommy,” I remind him before we step into the dimly lit, cold, windowless room.