Chapter 43
43
I swear, it’s Mafia wedding season.
And I’m ready for the damn finale.
Today is Antonio and Gigi’s special day.
While they’re already married, Gigi wanted a real wedding. The first time she and Antonio said their vows was when he was holding her hostage and she had no choice.
For a while, there was uncertainty if there’d ever be a formal wedding since Gigi said she wouldn’t have one unless Cristian walked her down the aisle. Somehow, Antonio convinced Cristian to agree. From what I heard, it wasn’t with violence but with guilt-tripping.
Only a few months ago, Cristian Marchetti wanted to kill Antonio for taking Gigi hostage. One would’ve expected nothing but bloodshed if the Lombardis and Marchettis were within the same space. But here we are, commemorating love.
I’m sure Cristian still wants to kill Antonio, but he’s refraining for the sake of his daughter.
I’ve met Gigi a few times during Amara’s dance classes. Her curly and dark hair, beauty, and olive complexion bring the image of a Mafia princess to life. Antonio met his match with her, but I can tell he enjoys it.
Genesis is my plus-one. I tried to RSVP no , but telling Antonio no doesn’t mean no.
“Amara wants you there to see her flower-girl walk, so you’ll be there,” he said.
I’m almost positive Damien also had a hand in my mandatory attendance.
Since his visit to the studio, he’s called and texted relentlessly.
I’ve ignored him.
So, he keeps calling and texting.
People might find that stalkerish, but in Damien’s head, that’s his version of giving me space.
Not giving me space would be breaking into my apartment and taking me hostage.
The wedding is in the prettiest courtyard I’ve ever seen. I’ve stepped straight into a fairy tale, ready to witness the Mafia king and queen recite their vows.
When Julian sees us, he stops mid-conversation with Emilio. He briefly looks at me before fixating on Genesis. His gaze wanders down her body as he licks his bottom lip.
Genesis smiles at him.
He tilts his chin in our direction.
“I have a question,” I say when we take our seats near the back.
“Yeah?” she asks, her eyes back on Julian.
“Have you and Julian ever …”
She turns to face me. “Ever what?”
“You know …”
Her red lips curl into a smirk as she waits for me to say it.
“Hook up?”
“He fingered me in the back of a club once.” She shrugs .
I slap her shoulder. “I knew it!”
“Relax. It’s not a big deal.”
“Does anyone else know?” I scan the crowd, as if ready for her to single out someone.
She drops her voice. “Emilio.”
“Emilio?”
“He was sitting in the booth.”
“Julian finger-fucked you in front of Emilio?”
“God, can you say it any freaking louder?” She swats at me. “No more secrets for you, big mouth.”
I grin. “I bet it was hot as hell. I’ve seen Julian’s hands.”
“Ugh, we’re not friends anymore.”
“Too late for that. The day you took me to Serenebelle is the day you got stuck with me for life.”
She blows an upward breath. “The price I pay for a free spa day.”
I laugh, throwing my head back. As I slowly lower it, my gaze meets Damien’s. Dressed in a black tux, he stands as Antonio’s best man at the altar. He stares at me, his face brooding and eyes burning, as if I’m an object he can never let out of his sight.
Everyone hushes, and all attention—minus Damien’s because it doesn’t leave me—turns toward Cristian escorting Gigi down the aisle. I watch the beautiful bride in awe. Not in as much awe as Antonio, who looks hopelessly in love. This man risked death to be with her.
As they recite their vows, I struggle to hold back tears.
This is how a wedding should be.
How a bride and groom should feel.
You should be able to see the love and devotion in their eyes like you do Gigi’s and Antonio’s.
They defied people to marry each other.
Nearly caused a war for their love .
Gigi refused to back down and demanded nothing but true love.
“Gigi is stunning, obvi,” Genesis comments. “But Cristian Marchetti? I’d call him Daddy any-damn-time. His wife is lucky.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s also lucky to have his wife.”
“True, Natalia is hot as hell. If a woman marries an older man, it should be someone like Cristian. Rich, hot AF, and willing to murder your ex.”
I nudge her with my elbow. “That dead ex is the groom’s brother.”
She flicks her hand through the air. “Oh, please. No one liked Vinny, including Antonio.”
“Oh my God, I can’t with you.”
My gaze slips back to Damien.
He’s still watching me.
I shut my eyes, my mistake haunting me.
I should’ve said yes a long time ago.
My stubbornness cost me love.
Cost me everything.
The sun sets around the courtyard, adding to its beauty.
After the wedding, we retreated inside the ballroom to watch the first dance. Cristian and Gigi shared their father-daughter dance, and then Genesis and I went outside again. We need fresh air, and the many open bars throughout the castle-like building and courtyard are nice too. Cristian spared no expense on Gigi’s wedding.
“We’re in Mafia heaven,” Genesis sings out. “Or if we’re being technical, hell. No way is God granting any of them a ticket to heaven. ”
“I should’ve brought Darcy as my plus-one,” I grumble, shaking my head.
“Darcy wouldn’t have been as much fun.” She wiggles her shoulders. “I’m the fun-time one of our group.”
“Genesis, what a surprise to see you here,” a man says, approaching us. He holds out his hand toward me. “Luca. I don’t believe we’ve formally met.”
Luca is hot as hell with dark hair and a seductive smile.
I also recognize him from the blog post I read forever ago when researching Damien.
“Luca is a Marchetti,” Genesis explains, as if giving a report. “Marchettis are nothing but trouble. I wouldn’t speak to him if I were you.”
Luca smirks at her, and I can’t believe she’s speaking to him like that. “Oh, baby Genesis, do I need to shut your smart mouth by making you come on my fingers again?”
I pull back in disbelief. “Wait … you and him?”
Genesis rolls her eyes. “I was, like, sixteen when I let him finger me with his inexperienced hand. I hope your trigger finger has improved since the last time you played with my clit.”
Good thing I haven’t taken a sip of the champagne yet.
I’d have spit it out.
“Genesis,” I tease, “you little finger whore.”
She doesn’t look one bit embarrassed. “Getting fingered doesn’t add to my body count, and I get off. Win-win for me.”
That is a good point .
“How about I pull up that dress of yours and show you how much I’ve improved?” Luca asks, stepping closer. “We both know you love an audience.”
“I’ll pass.” She smiles at him with no shame.
If someone was publicly talking about fingers in my vagina, my entire body would turn the blush pink Damien loves so much.
That’s something I admire about Genesis.
She doesn’t care what anyone thinks of her.
Genesis gestures to me. “This is Pippa. She’s Amara’s dance teacher and strictly off-limits.”
“Wrong,” a stern voice says from behind me.
I whip around to find Benny, Cristian’s son, approaching us.
All these men just sneak up out of nowhere.
Do they learn that in Mafia school or something?
Benny’s hand is clasped around his wife, Neomi’s. While I’ve never met her, everyone knows who she is. She’s also the woman who was accidentally shot in the crosshairs of Antonio’s father calling a hit against Benny.
She’s petite and around the same height as me, and like all the other Marchetti Mafia wives, she’s stunning.
“Don’t let Luca convince you he doesn’t know who she is,” Benny adds, joining our group. “The asshole just enjoys playing games with people.”
I’m quiet for a moment, taking in Benny while also not wanting to appear rude for doing it in front of his wife. He’s the younger version of Cristian. People claim he’ll be as ruthless as his father when he takes over.
Luca points at me with his glass. “You’re the dancer Damien is obsessed with and also his fiancée’s cousin.”
“You’re such a jerk,” Neomi says while Genesis mutters, “Asshole.”
“What?” Luca throws out his arms and shrugs. “We watched the Lombardis for months”—his eyes dart straight to me—“ and you . You’re quite the dancer. Care to share a dance with me?”
“I don’t think Antonio would appreciate me murdering someone at his wedding.”
I nearly drop my glass at the sound of Damien’s voice.
It terrifies me yet is my favorite tune.
It was once my comfort song, and now, it’s my heartbreak one .
He squeezes between Genesis and me, glowering at Luca.
“I was afraid you’d ruin the fun,” Luca says, unfazed. He knows Damien won’t ruin the wedding. “Genesis, we’re back to you, then.”
“She’s good,” Julian says, joining us.
Luca places his hand over his heart. “The Bellini brothers wound me, taking all the gorgeous women here.”
“How about you go dance with Isabella then?” Neomi comments.
Luca shakes his head. “Nah, I stay far away from you Cavallaro sisters. If your father even catches a whiff of me with Isabella, he’ll immediately attempt to draft a marriage contract.”
It’s wild. Not too long ago, most of these men wanted to kill each other.
Insert Gigi, a woman, to tame them.
To end the war.
The power of a damn woman.
Damien snatches my glass, settles it on the table, and captures my hand. “Come on. You owe me a dance.”
Owe him?
I hear Genesis mutter something along the lines of, “Bad idea,” as Damien hauls me away.
“Are you nuts?” I ask while he pulls me into the building and through the crowd. “People will tell Cernach.”
The orchestra plays a rendition of a song I recognize but can’t put a name to. Right before we reach the dance floor, Damien cuts a right to the stone staircase. If it wasn’t for him leading the way, I’d lose my balance from the lack of light. He doesn’t stop until we’re outside on a balcony overlooking the courtyard.
Releasing my hand, he spins me around to face the now-empty altar. “That could’ve been us,” he says in what sounds like agony .
I tremble when he shoves the weight of his chest against my back and holds me in place.
His mouth lowers to my ear. “We could’ve had this a year ago. The ceremony. The vows. The fucking first dance. I had it in my calendar, remember?” A sneer joins his tone, an attempt to hide the pain in his voice. “The day I ask Pippa to marry me.”
I shut my eyes, a tear falling down my cheek, remembering that morning.
How I’d declared I needed a year, and he made a show of scheduling it on his phone.
“You gave it up. Gave us up.” He raises his hand to my neck, giving it a squeeze before stroking the skin. “You walked away out of stubbornness.” He scoffs. “You think you didn’t let Cernach win by leaving me? He didn’t win just that fight with you, Pippa. He won the goddamn war.”
More tears slip down my cheeks.
Heartbreak rises through my entire body as I gulp down sobs.
Regret pours through me like it’s somehow joined my blood.
I did this.
I ruined us.
And now, there’s no way to fix it.
I grip his arm on my chest. “I made a mistake, Damien.”
“A mistake that can’t be changed,” he spits.
“I asked Cernach to change the contract and let us marry instead, but he said no.”
“Why would he? You wronged him, and he’ll make us pay for it.”
Staring ahead, I take in the beauty of the lit-up courtyard and people celebrating this moment of love. I’ll never have this with the man I love.
“Had you not destroyed us, there’d be a ring on your finger,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “Our life might’ve been chaotic at times, but we’d be happy.” He lifts his hand to my chin, holding it firmly. “Look at it. Look at what we could’ve had.”
“I’m sorry,” I say around swallows.
Around sobs.
Around goddamn agony.
My heart is shattering.
The person who put me together before can’t anymore.
I blink through the tears.
“Imagine what we’d have,” he says, as if wanting to continue to make me suffer. “You’d wear a pink gown to our wedding, your hair down in curls, and I wouldn’t be able to take my eyes off you as you walked down the aisle. The woman I cherish more than anything in this messed-up world of mine would have my name, would be mine forever. But you took that away from me.”
He’s taking his pain out on me.
I don’t blame him.
I caused it.
He always said he never wanted an arranged marriage.
Never wanted to marry a woman who didn’t love him.
That’s exactly what he has to do with Riona.
It’s also what I’ll have to do when Cernach marries me off.
He retreats a step when the music changes, and I rotate to face him.
The pain that was in his voice matches the hurt on his face.
That same pain scorches through me as we stare each other down.
“I’m sorry,” I sob, unable to stop myself from walking straight into his arms and shoving my face into his chest.
My chest caves in when he pulls away from me.
I wait for him to leave me like I did him.
To make me suffer.
He backs up and spreads his arm along the railing.
I stare at him, my breathing heavy, as he drops one arm to hold out his hand .
“Can I have one last dance?”
He doesn’t give me a second to answer before pulling me back into his arms. I relax against his hard chest, against the warmth of him, and the song changes.
I know I shouldn’t be here with him like this.
He’s engaged to my cousin, for Christ’s sake.
But one last dance.
This last one .
He brushes his nose against mine and drags his hands down my spine, resting them on my lower back. We aren’t as much dancing as I’m just allowing him to hold me.
“I got you out of your marriage contract with Cernach,” he says, kissing my forehead.
“What?” When I attempt to draw back, he squeezes me tighter in his hold. “How?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
This time, it’s not me trying to pull away.
It’s him.
“What did you have to do for Cernach?” I cry out, my arms falling slack at my sides.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. There’s always a price with him.”
“I told you before that I’ll pay any price for you.” He kisses my forehead again and walks away.
Leaving me alone on the balcony to feel the pain I caused us both.
Leaving me alone, staring at an altar, at what could’ve been our future.
There’s practically a syllabus for Riona’s wedding events .
Engagement announcement party. I missed that one, thank God.
Engagement party. Where I currently am. FML.
Bachelor and bachelorette parties. No, freaking thank you. If Cernach forces me, I’m faking my death.
Rehearsal dinner.
Wedding .
My aunt Fedelma, Cernach’s wife, is behind the packed schedule. That woman calls herself the Irish Martha Stewart. She likes to keep herself busy and away from her husband. Not that I can blame her.
Cernach insisted we attend tonight’s dinner. I’ve yet to mention Damien saying he got me out of the marriage agreement. If I do, Cernach will know we’ve been in contact.
The invitation said the social starts at seven and dinner begins at eight.
We’re here at 7:59. I’ll blame it on too much traffic during our drive from New York to Boston.
“I’m really sorry,” Lanie whispers as I hand The Ritz-Carlton valet my keys.
I offer her a timid smile. “It’s okay, I promise.”
Her shoulders slump.
I can’t blame my naive sister for believing she could trust Cernach. She didn’t hear the stories I did. She saw him open the studio and help our mom.
My mom lingers behind us. I hardly spoke to her on the drive here. I’d have preferred we rode separately, but she doesn’t have a car.
Sometimes, I war with myself on whether to hate or pity her.
Then, I think about how I’d act in the same situation. If a man treated my daughters how Cernach treats us, I’d either kill him or run. I wouldn’t care what it cost me. I’d put them above everything.
She had the guts to stick up for herself many years ago when it was her freedom on the line. Yet she won’t do it for us. I’ll never forgive her for that.
I hate that I search the ballroom for Damien as soon as we enter.
He’s not here yet.
I accept a champagne glass from a server and pretend to listen while my mom introduces me to family members I don’t care to meet. My attention stays on the entrance as I wait for him.
My breath stops when I see him.
He repeats the action I did, his gaze coasting across the room. I know this because his search stops when his eyes land on me.
It’s been two weeks since I saw him at Gigi and Antonio’s wedding.
Since he cruelly reminded me that our heartbreak is my fault.
His eyes are frozen on me, overflowing with hurt, and sadness rushes through me. Our eye contact is quickly broken when Cernach steps in front of me.
“Tardiness is disrespectful,” he says, glaring at my mom, Lanie, and me. “I told you I wanted you here at seven.”
“Traffic was bad.” I shrug. “Sorry.”
I took the longest route I could and went five under the speed limit.
“Lose the attitude, bitch,” he snaps. “Your future husband is here, so I need you to behave.” He snatches my elbow and starts nearly dragging me to a group of men across the ballroom.
My heart twists in my chest.
I feel Damien’s eyes burning into me with each step I take.
“Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen,” Cernach says, his tone much more civil than it was with me. “I thought it was time I introduced you to my beautiful niece Pippa.”
Oh, gag me .
I scan the three men .
A tall man with a broad jawline and dark hair steps closer. “Hello, Pippa.” His accent is thick Russian. “I’m Igor. Your uncle has told me great things about you, but I have to say, he minimized your beauty.”
Cernach releases me, and I allow Igor to take my hand.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
Igor’s hand is smooth as it holds mine. He places a kiss to the top and holds my palm over his heart. Good thing my back is to Damien because I’m sure there’s fire in his eyes. Igor isn’t terrible-looking, and so far, he doesn’t seem like a complete sociopath.
Like Cernach said, he could stick me with the grandfather, who currently has drool dripping from his bottom lip. That man should be in a nursing home, completing his will, not searching for a new wife.
Igor slips his hand up my arm, settling my elbow through his. “Let’s have dinner, so I can get to know you better.”
I continue avoiding eye contact with Damien as we make our way to the table. While plenty of Riona’s friends and family are here, Damien doesn’t have one person. No Antonio, Julian, or Emilio.
Just him.
I’m sure that’ll piss Cernach off since I notice place cards with their names on them. They’d have come if Damien had asked, so he did it to spite Cernach. To show him he’ll do the bare minimum in his marriage.
Igor’s seated next to me, and Lanie sits to my other side. My mom is beside her. My back straightens when Riona and Damien take the chairs across from us.
One person I pity is Riona.
As she sits, she offers me a withdrawn smile.
While I haven’t spoken with her, I know she’s in for a hard marriage.
Her husband doesn’t love her .
He wants someone else.
Cernach is stealing her chance of finding true love.
We start dinner with a toast to the newlyweds. As the first course is served, Cernach gloats over some business deal he recently closed. I tune him out. He could tell me he learned the secret as to why Edward from Twilight sparkled, and I still wouldn’t pay attention.
I stare at Damien. He’s hardly spoken a word to anyone.
Neither has Riona.
“Cernach tells me you’re a dancer,” Igor comments.
I skim my gaze to him and smile. “I am.”
“What kind of dance?” He wipes the corners of his mouth with his napkin.
“Ballet. I teach now actually.”
He stares at me with more interest. “Wow, what studio?”
“Mine. The Ballet Studio.”
“Having your own studio? That’s quite impressive.”
My cheeks warm, and I hate it.
They’re only supposed to do that for the engaged man across from me.
“Maybe someday, I can come watch you dance,” Igor says, snapping my attention back to him.
“Yeah.” I shyly nod a few times while hoping Damien doesn’t lose his shit over that comment.
Igor seems nice so far, but nice guys don’t mingle with Cernach. Damien and Antonio included. I do respect Igor refusing to marry Lanie because of her age. Most guys would’ve jumped at the chance to marry her.
While she’s young, she’s also gorgeous in an innocent way. She’s a skinnier and taller version of me with lighter hair. Plenty of boys knocked on our door, growing up, asking her out, but she’s too consumed with school and dancing than dating.
“Cernach said you’re available tomorrow?” Igor continues. “ Maybe we can have lunch. They have the Boston Ballet here. I could get us tickets.”
Damien slams his knife down on the table before picking it back up. He clenches his hold on the handle—so tight that his knuckles turn white.
“I appreciate the invite, but I drove my mom and sister here. I can’t stay,” I reply.
“Too late,” Cernach says like he’s been listening to the entire conversation. “I already arranged for Enya to drive your car home with Lanie. Igor will drive you home tomorrow after you spend the afternoon together.”
“Oh, you live in New York?” I ask Igor.
He nods. “I have a home there, yes. I have one in all of my favorite cities—New York, Miami, Dubai, and London. New York is my favorite, though.” A smile builds along his lips. “Although it might become more of my favorite if you’re there.”
I can’t even look at Damien this time.
“Aw,” my mom chimes in. “What a sweet thing to say.” She snatches her wine glass. “Now, that’s good husband material.”
I nearly gag at the word husband .
She’s the last person I want to determine whether someone is husband material .
“I actually asked Pippa to help me tomorrow,” Damien says, knocking back the remainder of his drink. “She’s helping me look for a house for Riona and me here in Boston.”
This time, I’m the one snatching my knife, gripping it tight.
House in Boston?
I hold up my hand. “I think you made plans with a different Pippa. That isn’t in my agenda.” I smile smugly at him.
“I don’t think there’s another Pippa Charlotte Elsher around here,” Damien says, fake looking around the room and cocking his head to the side. “You must’ve forgotten. We discussed it at Antonio Lombardi’s wedding when we ran into each other.”
Everyone’s eyes are on us .
Cernach clasps his hands, the noise loud. “I’m sure my Riona wants to select her own house. She and Pippa don’t know each other well enough for her to decide such a thing. Pippa, you’ll spend the day with Igor. Riona and Damien will go house-hunting.” His cold glare whips to Damien. “It’ll give the future newlyweds time to get to know each other.” He leans back in his chair, offering the table a self-satisfied smile. “ Both sets of newlyweds .”