Chapter Twenty
I wake up feeling on edge. My skin is cold and clammy.
It feels like it’s buzzing, my brain feels exhausted, and my body still aches a little.
The surrounding air feels eerily calm, you know, that uncomfortable calm just before all hell breaks loose, which doesn’t fill me with anything but dread.
It’s the morning of the wedding. I peel myself out of bed and shower, trying to wash the day off me before I’ve even started it.
When I head downstairs, the house is a bustle of movement and chaos.
People milling around, I feel like I’m walking around in slow motion compared to everyone else.
Marianne is barking orders, where people need to be, what time vehicles need to leave and arrive to transport the staff to the event.
I haven’t done anything. Vittorio and Marianne have planned it all, even down to the dress.
I don’t care about any of it. It’s a means to an end, isn’t it?
I never grew up imagining my wedding. Alfredo took my innocence before I even knew what I wanted from a man or a wedding. But Vittorio wants this to be special; he wants the world to know I’m his, and he is mine.
He wants to take my name, abandoning the Ricci name altogether.
Vittorio Bianchi. It has a nice ring to it, and it will send a message to everyone out there.
Especially his father and brother. Bellino has been quiet, too quiet.
But it’s the calm before the storm. I know he’ll come for me.
It’s inevitable, but when and where? I don’t know.
I don’t even know whether they will attend the wedding.
I’m not sure if I would want them there.
I suppose if they were, they could just kill me.
I’m sure Bellino will love to murder me, a vision in white, blood cascading around my lifeless body like a Renaissance painting.
Especially if he could do it in public, but who knows?
Marianne has informed me to grab my overnight bag, and the boys will be ready to drive me to the venue.
I throw in everything I think I’ll need, but I don’t even know where I’m going, and the more I think about it, the more I feel this could be a set-up.
What the hell am I thinking? I’m not going through with this. It’s too fast. I can’t.
There’s a knock on my door. I blow out a breath as I crack it open. Matteo stands there, black tux and earpiece in. He glances down at me, his eyes searching for something. He looks handsome, and I give him a soft smile.
“You don’t have to do this,” he croaks.
“Yes, I do.” I hold my bag out for him to take, and I step past him.
“Arianna, wait.” He grabs my arm, stopping me from heading down the hallway. He drops my bag, and as he pulls me towards him, his other arm reaches up as if to cup my face. His hot hand tremors as he slides it up my cheek.
I whip my head at the last second. His face crashes into the side of my face before I pull away. My nostrils flare as I stand there dumbfounded. On my fucking wedding day. Is he shitting me? I lean down, snatching my bag off the floor, and turn on my heels.
Storming down the hallway, when I reach the end, I turn and look over my shoulder and glare at him. “That won’t happen again,” I snarl.
My eyes bore into him with fury. His eyes widen, his posture sags. He looks defeated. His eyes are glassy, but he straightens himself and nods, before he follows after me and falls into step behind me.
When I reach the car, Luca is there with the boot open. He glares at me, clutching my own bag, then at Matteo. Luca steps forward, taking my bag from me and placing it in the boot. He nods and opens my door, then scowls at Matteo as he gets in the driver’s seat before Luca slides in beside me.
I stare out of the window, trying to concentrate on nothing, but everything floods my mind.
The scenery whizzes past as my mind tries to match the speed, filling it with regrets, possibilities, and the men in my life—past, present, and future.
What the fuck is this? A mental breakdown on my wedding day?
It doesn’t bode well. Is it some kind of omen?
We pull up at a manor house that’s absolutely stunning.
I break from the fog that’s descended on me to appreciate the beauty of it all.
The imposing iron gates, surrounded by natural stone walls.
The neatly trimmed lawns and hedges surrounded by wildflower borders, the dull buzz of insects buzzing from plant to plant.
The place looks serene. The humming sound is loud above the noise of the engine.
Until the screech of the gates sounds before they creak open.
As Matteo drives onto the grounds, our eyes meet in the mirror, and I have to look away.
I’m angry, so fucking angry, you pick the day of my wedding to finally make a substantial move.
He’s been distant for the last week while the wedding has been being arranged. I made a promise to Vittorio; once we were married, I would be his and his alone and now this foolishness. If Vittorio finds out about this, Matteo will certainly lose his job.
Pulling up outside the house, a woman with a clipboard walks towards the car, but Luca jumps out, stopping her in her tracks.
She shows him the board, and he steps back, opening the door.
I climb out of the vehicle, and she smiles at me and reaches out her hand, informing me she’s the wedding coordinator and to follow her.
I turn to see Matteo staring out of the other window before Luca grabs my bag and steers me inside.
I follow her through hallways and corridors before we reach a set of double doors at the end.
When she pushes them open, the room is spacious, light and airy, simplistic but elegant.
Marianne is waiting inside with a glass of champagne.
She’s having her hair and makeup done as another person gestures me towards the empty seat next to her.
“I’m going to check on the groom. Have fun, ladies. I’ll see you all soon.” The planner smiles.
I see Luca standing in the corridor. He gives me a small nod, and I relax a little, knowing at least he has my back. She clicks the door closed when she leaves.
I survey the room. I wander around checking the main door, the bathroom, and the external doors and windows before I walk over to Marianne.
I take her hand in mine and give her a tight-lipped smile as I squeeze.
I want to say so much, but I also feel that if I let my walls down, they may crumble, and I need to make it through this.
I need to stay focused. Today isn’t the day to relax and enjoy life.
I step over to the chair and get primped and preened, my mind keeps wandering while keeping an eye on the windows and the exits.
I’m sure brides shouldn’t normally feel this way on their wedding day.
Marianne coos over me like I’m the daughter she never had, and I’m probably the nearest thing to that for her.
My mother was never really a mother. I don’t think I even remember her anymore.
And when I think of my father, the only fond memory I have is of him lying on the floor surrounded by blood with my bullet through him.
Let’s hope my and my husband-to-be’s relationship is better than the majority of the others I’ve cultivated.
My phone buzzes, and Marianne hands it to me. I stare at it. It’s Vittorio. I take a deep breath. “Hello.”
“Well, don’t you look beautiful?” I can hear the smile in his voice.
I smile back. “How the hell would you know?”
“I know you do. So anyway, business first. The Syndicate are attending. There is security on the premises, and we’ve reached a truce, of sorts. There will be no bloodshed today.” There’s a pause. “That goes for us, too.”
I huff out a laugh. “You think they can be trusted?”
“Fuck no. That’s why I organised the security myself, and they’ve been given strict instructions to shoot to kill if anyone dicks around.
They’ll also be searched and stripped of weapons on arrival.
Apparently, they still want to allow people the illusion that you’re trying to make it into the Syndicate, and they’re allowing you to try. ”
“Well, how wonderful of them,” I chuckle.
He huffs out a laugh. “Well, there’s a gift from me at the bottom of your dress bag. I think it will go perfectly with your dress. I’ll see you soon. I’ll be the handsome one waiting at the end of the aisle.”
“Vittorio…” I’m cut off as he hangs up. I take a breath as the hairstylist wrestles my hair into an elaborate updo, with wispy tendrils skimming my face and shoulders.
I stand staring at myself in the mirror, the makeup stunning, the hair gorgeous, but is it really me? I sigh as I walk towards the dress.
“Leave us,” I say coldly to the hair and makeup people and sigh as the room empties. “Have you seen it?” I ask Marianne, waiting for a reaction, but she shakes her head.
“That is all him.” I don’t know why the sentiment makes me feel nervous.
He picked the dress. For most girls, it’s supposed to be a monumental thing, shopping for the dress with family and friends.
It’s a whole ordeal. But for me, it’s just a dress, on a day that is irrelevant in my life, the way I live it’s a means to an end.
I would have walked into the town hall and got married in my suit.
What matters to me is whether this marriage will work.
If he is on my side or if I am totally alone.
If I’m alone against the rest of the Syndicate, I might not see tomorrow.
It’s all a game of chance. Will they try to kill me today while my guard is down?
Will they succeed in eradicating my lineage?
I step up to the dress bag, and I can see Marianne eyeing me. She’s holding her breath, waiting for me to open the bag and see the dress. Marianne gasps from behind me as I step up to the bag.