Chapter 25
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is half-styled, pinned up on one side while the hairdresser works on the other, weaving tiny white flowers through the intricate braids. The makeup artist hovers nearby, brush in hand, waiting to add the final touches to my face.
"You look beautiful," Hazel says, squeezing my shoulder gently.
I try to smile but can't quite manage it. My wedding day. The words feel hollow, empty of the joy they should contain.
"Something borrowed," Bella announces, fastening a delicate diamond bracelet around my wrist. "This was my grandmother's. She wore it on her wedding day."
"Thank you," I whisper, touching the sparkling stones. My cousin's eyes meet mine in the mirror, filled with concern she's trying to hide.
The bedroom buzzes with activity around me.
Zoe arranges my veil on the bed, careful not to wrinkle it.
Melania sits in the corner, fingers flying over her phone screen, occasionally glancing up with a tight smile.
They're all here, supporting me, even though none of them believe this marriage should happen.
"Tilt your chin up, please," the makeup artist instructs, and I obey mechanically.
"Not too much blush," I hear myself say. "They have told me that it doesn't suit me."
"Screw what others like," Melania mutters from her corner, not looking up from her phone. "It's your face."
A surprised laugh escapes me, breaking through the numbness for just a moment.
"Melania!" Zoe scolds, but I catch her smile in the mirror.
"What? I'm just saying what we're all thinking." Melania shrugs, finally setting her phone down. "This whole thing is?—"
"Mel," Hazel cuts her off with a warning look.
The room falls silent except for the soft click of the hairdresser's scissors. I know what Melania was going to say. This whole thing is wrong. A mistake. A sacrifice.
"It's fine," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "We all know why I'm doing this."
The hairdresser steps back, admiring her work. "All done, Miss Feretti."
"It's beautiful," Bella says, but her smile doesn't reach her eyes.
I touch one of the tiny flowers woven into my hair. "What are these called?"
"Baby's breath," the hairdresser answers. "For innocence and purity."
I almost laugh at the irony. There's nothing pure about this marriage.
"Time for the dress," Hazel announces, moving toward the garment bag hanging on my closet door.
My stomach twists into knots.
Daniel.
His name sends a jolt through me, like touching a live wire. I haven't seen him since yesterday, when Damiano reassigned him from my security detail. "Wedding preparations," he'd said.
"Are you okay?" Hazel asks quietly, noticing my expression. "You're pale."
"I'm fine," I lie. "Just wedding nerves."
Zoe exchanges a look with Hazel that I pretend not to notice. They know. Of course they know. Zoe caught us kissing, and I told Hazel everything about our night together.
"You don't have to do this," Melania says suddenly, her voice cutting through the room. "There are always other options."
"Melania," Zoe warns again.
"What? Someone should say it." Melania stands up, crossing her arms. "This isn't the Middle Ages. Women don't have to marry for alliances anymore."
"It's complicated," I say, the words feeling inadequate.
"It's bullshit," Melania counters, but her eyes are kind. "But it's your choice."
The makeup artist finishes with a final sweep of powder and steps back. "Perfect," she declares.
I look at my reflection again. The stranger staring back at me is flawless. Hair arranged in elegant waves and braids. Makeup enhancing my features while looking natural. Eyes empty of everything but resignation.
The perfect Feretti bride.
I check my watch. Fifteen minutes until Damiano returns to escort Lucrezia to the church.
The mansion feels empty with most of the security detail already at the church. I move through the hallways like a ghost, my footsteps silent on the marble floors. My Glock presses against my lower back, a constant reminder of what I'm risking.
Everything. I'm risking everything.
I pause outside Lucrezia's door, listening. Female voices drift through the wood. Her bridesmaids helping her prepare. My jaw clenches at the thought of her dressing for him. For Bruno fucking Sartori.
I don't knock. I push the door open and step inside.
The room freezes. Five pairs of eyes lock onto me—Lucrezia, Hazel, Zoe, Bella, and Melania. The hairdresser and makeup artist shrink back against the wall.
"Daniel?" Hazel recovers first, stepping forward. "What are you doing here? Damiano reassigned you."
I ignore her, my eyes fixed on Lucrezia. She sits at her vanity in a silk robe, her hair adorned with tiny white flowers, her face a perfect mask. Only her eyes betray her. Wide, shocked, a flicker of something I can't name.
"Everyone out," I command, my voice low and dangerous.
"Excuse me?" Zoe steps forward, protective instinct flaring. "You can't just?—"
"Now." The word cuts through the room like a blade.
Melania stands, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Come on," she says to the others. "Let's give them a minute."
"But—" Bella protests.
"Now," Melania echoes my command, already herding the makeup artist and hairdresser toward the door.
Hazel hesitates, looking between Lucrezia and me. "Lu?"
Lucrezia hasn't moved, hasn't spoken. She stares at me like I'm a ghost.
"It's okay," she finally whispers, her voice barely audible.
Hazel nods once, sharp and decisive. "Five minutes," she says to me. "That's all you have before Damiano gets back." A lie. I know how much time I have.
They file out, Zoe last, her eyes warning me not to hurt Lucrezia. The door clicks shut behind them.
We're alone.
"You can't marry him," I say, the words bursting from me like bullets.
Lucrezia stands slowly, her silk robe flowing around her. "Daniel?—"
"No." I cross the room in three strides, stopping just short of touching her. "Listen to me. You can't do this."
"I have to." Her voice is steady, but her hands tremble. "You know why."
"Fuck why." I reach for her, cupping her face in my hands. "Fuck the casino. Fuck the Russians. Fuck all of it."
Her skin is warm under my palms. Those flowers in her hair make her look like something from a dream. Too beautiful, too perfect to be real. But the pulse hammering in her throat is real. The slight catch in her breath is real.
"Daniel," she whispers, her hands coming up to grip my wrists. Not pushing me away, just holding on. "It's too late."
"It's not too late until you say 'I do.'" I lean closer, our foreheads almost touching. "Come with me. Right now."
Her eyes widen. "What?"
"I have a car. Untraceable. We can be out of New York before anyone realizes you're gone."
"You're insane." But there's a flicker in her eyes—hope, maybe. Or fear. "Damiano would hunt us down. The Sartoris would never stop looking."
"Let them try." I stroke my thumb across her cheekbone, smearing a bit of her perfect makeup. "I was Special Forces, Lu. I know how to disappear."
She shakes her head, but it's weak, uncertain. "They'd kill you."
"Some things are worth dying for." I hold her gaze, letting her see everything I've tried to hide. "You're worth dying for."
The door opens behind me. My hand instinctively moves to my weapon, but it's just Zoe.
"Daniel," she says, her voice low and urgent. "Damiano just called. He's five minutes out."
I don't move, my eyes still locked with Lucrezia's. I can see the war raging behind her eyes—duty versus desire, family versus freedom.
"Lu," Zoe says, stepping further into the room. "Is this what you want? Him?"
Lucrezia's breath catches. A tear slips down her cheek, ruining the perfect makeup. "I can't?—"
"You can," Zoe interrupts. "If this is what you want, you can."
I turn to look at Zoe, surprised. Damiano's wife, standing here, encouraging his sister to run away with me.
Zoe meets my eyes, determination hardening her features. "Take care of her," she says. "I'll try to fix things here."
"Zoe," Lucrezia whispers, "they'll never forgive?—"
"Let me worry about that." Zoe crosses to the closet, pulls out a coat. "Put this on. Over the robe. Now."
Lucrezia hesitates for only a second before slipping the coat on with trembling hands.
"Your brothers love you," Zoe says, helping Lucrezia button the coat. "They'll be angry, yes. But they want you happy more than they want this alliance."
"The casino—" Lucrezia starts.
"Is just a business," Zoe finishes. "Family is what matters. You are what matters."
I check my watch. "We need to go. Now."
Zoe nods. "There's a service elevator at the end of the east wing. The one the staff uses. No cameras." She looks at me. "You know where it is?"
I nod. Of course I know. I've memorized every inch of this place, every exit, every blind spot.
"Go," Zoe says. "I'll tell them you weren't feeling well. That you needed air. I'll buy you as much time as I can."
Lucrezia throws her arms around Zoe, hugging her fiercely. "Thank you," she whispers.
I move to the door, checking the hallway. Clear.
"Lu," I say, holding out my hand.
She takes a deep breath, then places her hand in mine. Her fingers are cold, but her grip is strong.
We slip into the hallway, moving quickly and quietly toward the east wing. I keep us close to the wall, away from the security cameras I know are watching the main corridors.
At the service elevator, I punch the call button, scanning our surroundings. The mansion is eerily quiet, most of the staff already at the church.
The elevator arrives with a soft ding. I usher Lucrezia inside, then follow, hitting the button for the garage level.
As the doors close, Lucrezia looks up at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and exhilaration.
"Are we really doing this?" she asks.
I pull her against me, one arm around her waist, the other hand cupping her face. "Only if you want to."
She nods, determination replacing the uncertainty in her eyes. "I want to."
The elevator descends, carrying us away from the life she was supposed to have, toward something unknown but chosen. Her choice.
Finally, her choice.