21. Vinnie
“Vincenza! Vincenza, stop!” my father’s voice echoes through the church as Sly carries me into the foyer. My stomach lurches hearing him call me Vincenza and not Sunshine, like he has since I was a child.
Over Sly’s shoulder, I see a look I’ve never seen on my father’s face before—one of disbelief, anger, and rage.
“It is your decision, piccola ladra,” Sly tells me. His pace slows, but he continues walking toward the tall oak doors that lead outside.
I don’t want to stop and face my father, but I know it’s the right thing to do. I can’t imagine what is going on in his head—there is so much he doesn’t know, and considering all that transpired in the last thirty minutes, I know we need to talk. “We should talk to him.”
“Of course.” Sly sets me down carefully, allowing me to find my footing beneath the elaborate skirt of my gown. Reaching down, he laces his fingers in mine.
His touch is reassuring and whispers the unspoken promise of solidarity.
My father comes to an abrupt stop in front of us, his face red and angry as his eyes dart between me and Sly and down to our connected hands. A true moment of realization hits, carving along every feature of his face. I can’t help but feel a wave of guilt slam into me, my heart sinking as the way he sees his daughter shifts before my very eyes.
“Vincenza?”
“Daddy, let me explain.”
His brows furrow together at my use of a term of endearment he hasn’t heard from me since I was a child, and he shakes his head. “Not here.”
Footsteps of wedding guests draw closer, and he gestures toward a closed door off the foyer, opening it and disappearing inside. He doesn’t check to see if we’re behind him.
Tugging Sly by the hand, I follow my father.
As we enter the room, the lights are off, and the space is colder than the foyer. Ornate, antique mahogany furniture lines the office space, along with bookshelves, wingback leather chairs, and an unlit fireplace.
Behind me, the door clicks into place, and I glance over my shoulder to see Sly leaning against it, his eyes on my father.
Placing his palms on Monsignor Jacoby’s desk, my father leans forward, his back grounded as his head hangs. He doesn’t look at us—doesn’t speak for several long, anxiety inducing seconds.
Taking a few steps backward, I lean against Sly. His hand encircles my waist, grounding me. “Daddy, I?—”
“You married a Lucchetti,” he finishes. The low, lethal tone of his voice causes my spine to stiffen. “You’ve embarrassed this family.”
“I love him,” I state, unwavering. Lacing my fingers through Sly’s, I keep our hands intertwined at my stomach.
My father turns to face us. “You have no idea what you’re saying, Vincenza. You have betrayed this family. Your entire life I have warned you against them. There’s a reason we have been at war with them for decades—why the feud began in the first place. The Lucchettis are not a family to associate with, they’re?—”
“They’re my family now, Father. I’m a Lucchetti now.”
“I WILL NOT ALLOW IT,” he bellows. “What he just did out there?—”
“Was to protect the woman I love,” Sly interjects, his voice calm as he addresses my father. Letting go of my hand, he sidesteps and puts himself between us. “You have no idea the things my wife has endured behind closed doors with that pathetic excuse for a man. The man you agreed to marry her off to.”
My father’s eyes meet mine, and I struggle for words, looking down and breaking our eye contact instead.
“You gave your blessing to force her into a marriage with a man whom she not only despised, but who physically assaulted her. All because you trusted the word of your son, who is just as much of a monster as August was.”
“You are a liar, just like your good-for-nothing uncle was,” my father spits, and I can’t believe the words as they fall from his mouth.
He doesn’t believe him. Doesn’t believe us. Or, he’s choosing not to.
He’s ignoring what he saw during the rehearsal, just like I knew he would.
Tears prick my eyes as I look at Sly, and he reaches up, lovingly rubbing my cheek with his thumb.
“Show him, piccola ladra,” he says quietly, his eyes softening. “It’s the only way he will see.”
Forcing back a whimper, I nod and turn around so my back faces Sly. He understands my unspoken request and slowly lowers the zipper until it reaches just above the lace of my panties, keeping me covered as much as possible. Holding the gown to my chest, I lightly shake my arm as I pull it out of the sleeve, releasing the fabric so more of my skin shows.
As it floats from my arm, the fading bruises on my rib cage are exposed, and my father sucks in a harsh breath.
“He’s been abusing your daughter, Maurizio. Right under your nose.” There is no anger in Sly’s voice as he delivers the harsh reality to my father, just sadness—in tune with the emotion plaguing me in this moment.
A pained look morphs my father’s features as he stares at my yellow and brown discolored skin. “I… Sunshine, why have you kept this from me?”
“What was I supposed to say?” Sadness and disbelief seep into my words. “You wouldn’t have listened. You saw what you wanted to see, even when the warning signs were flashing before yours and Mother’s eyes like a neon sign in a dive bar. Every time I wanted to confess, you sang August’s praises and spoke of how much this wedding would be good for the family and for business.”
“You should have spoken frankly about what was going on,” he argues.
I scoff, pushing my arm back into my sleeve. “You would have ignored it, Father.”
“And this?” He gestures between me and Sly, as Sly zips my gown again. “What is this?”
Before I can answer, Sly does. “I have loved your daughter since I was a boy, even if I was too young to recognize the signs until recent years. Our relationship should have never been kept a secret. The love I have for her is more powerful than words can fathom, Maurizio.”
“Then where were you when this was happening to her? If you love her as much as you claim to, why didn’t you intervene?” my father sneers, so angry, spittle flies from his mouth with every word he enunciates.
Remorse flickers across Sly”s face, so I connect our hands again, giving him a soft squeeze. “Gone for foolish reasons. I believed she didn’t want me, and truly loved him. It was only when she came to Ridgewood to find me, that I?—”
“You went WHERE?” my father bellows again, his temper getting the best of him. It feels like he is honing in on the wrong details of the story as he tries to piece it together.
“Ridgewood, Father. California.”
“It’s where I have been these past few months,” Sly adds.
“I took the first flight I could when I heard?—”
The door to the monsignor”s office flies open, practically falling off its hinges from the force of Joseph bursting into the room. It slams back into place behind him.
Pointing his finger toward Sly, he screams, “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU,” as he stomps further into the room.
Instinctually, I position myself between Sly and my brother at the same time Luciano saunters into the room, his hands in his pockets as though this is just another Saturday evening.
“You will do no such thing,” I challenge, mustering every ounce of strength I have to keep the quiver from my voice. “You’re the reason this has happened.”
“He couldn’t if he tried, amore mio,” Sly says under his breath as he presses a kiss to my temple.
“He murdered August, then married you. And you’re casting the blame on me? My friend is dead.”
“Your friend was a woman-beater,” Luciano canters back with boredom.
“Stay the fuck out of this, Luciano,” Joseph spits, then redirects his attention to Sly. “How dare you interrupt the wedding between my best friend and my sister, then have the audacity to killhim. You’re dead, Lucchetti. I will bury you for this.”
Spots of shades of red line my vision—bursts of scarlet, maroon, and ruby. My body begins to quake as I listen to every word my brother says, spewing his lies and accusations while my hearing sounds like I’m underwater.
“How did you bypass my security team, anyway?” I hear my father murmur, his brows furrowing in concern.
Luciano chuckles. “You’re not the only Paladino man they’re instructed to listen to, Father.”
My father says something in response, but I can hardly hear the words. The feeling of the room caving in on me is heavy against my skin, and I feel myself losing control—not even Sly’s touch keeping me firm on the ground. I’ve never felt this level of anger before, and it’s on the precipice of erupting.
I try to keep it bottled, but as Sly rubs his hand rhythmically against the back of my neck, I can’t contain it.
“YOU ARE THE PROBLEM, JOSEPH,” I explode, turning toward my brother, pressing forward until we’re inches apart. “YOU. Not me, not Sly. YOU. You, with your jealousy and your hatred toward me. You’re completely and utterly blinded by the fact that you think Father will overlook you and hand his business to me. You purposely pushed this marriage into Father’s lap, manipulating him into thinking the union would be beneficial, all so you could pair me with a man who would physically abuse me into submission. August is dead because of you.”
My chest heaves with adrenaline, my breaths rigid and painful as I stare up into the darkened eyes of my brother. He looms over me, taking a step forward.
Before I register what is happening, he raises his hand, seconds from slapping me.
Preparing myself for the pain, I close my eyes and cower into myself.
But it never comes.
When I open my eyes, I’m surprised to see our father’s—not Sly’s—hand locked around Joseph’s wrist, stopping him. “You have some nerve to raise your hand to your sister, Joseph. Get out of my sight. NOW.”
Turning quickly, I plow into Sly’s chest. One of his arms wraps around my body, while the other rests on the back of my head, holding me to him. “You”re safe,” he reassures.
A tear seeps from the corner of my eye, and Luciano meets my gaze from against Sly’s chest.
“Get him out of here before I kill him myself,” Sly warns, speaking to my eldest brother. Yet again, I’m surprised and confused.
He just said that like they’re friends.
Luciano nods at Sly and moves in the direction of Joseph, grabbing our brother”s bicep.
“Let’s go,” he says as I bury my face into Sly’s chest again, craving the closeness. Sly kisses the top of my head.
Moments later, I hear the door to the office close.
“Sunshine,” my father begins, but Sly stops his words.
“I think this has been enough for one day, Maurizio. We’re going to go.”
My father takes a step toward Sly, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’d like to speak to my daughter. Alone.”
“My wife is exhausted, both mentally and physically, and I am taking her home. You may speak with her when we return from our honeymoon, Maurizio. I’d suggest you speak with your son first, and make damn sure he has no ill-intentions toward the woman we both love.”
Sly’s hand slides up my back and he drapes his arm over my shoulder as he ushers me from the room. I fight against the urge to look back at my father, and instead hold my breath, expecting him to say something as we walk through the door.
“Breathe, piccola ladra. Everything is alright.” Sly rubs his hand against my shoulder and pulls the door open with his other, holding it so we can both go through together.
“The only thing that feels alright is that you’re my husband. Everything else feels like a jumbled disaster.”
A limo idles by the curb and when we approach, the back passenger door pops open. Sly lowers his hand to my back, urging me to climb in. He helps me lift my dress as I bend and slide onto the soft leather seat.
“Oh my gosh!” I exclaim when I see who’s inside. “What are you guys doing here?”
“We overheard this one on the phone prepping his jet for you.” Raina juts her thumb at Sully. “And there wasn’t a single chance in hell I was going to let Romeo here whisk you off somewhere without saying goodbye.”
Dropping to her knees, she walks on the floor of the limo over to me, tossing her arms around my neck. “I had a feeling he’d do something like that. You picked a good one,” she whispers, masking it with a kiss to my cheek.
When she goes back to her seat, Cecilia crawls over to me next. Wordlessly, she holds me tight for several seconds. “That was terrifying and romantic, all at the same time. I’m so glad he put a stop to that sham of a wedding.”
“Me too. And I’m so glad you’re here.”
“What a whirlwind few hours.” She laughs her nervous laugh, and I know the chaos brewing through her mind. Cecilia is such a gentle soul—a laid-back woman who loves to be in the company of good friends, good books, and surrounded by her favorite comforts. Today was a lot for her.
It was a lot for all of us.
Still hugging her, I look over her shoulder and find Sully watching us closely. Giving him a weak smile, he returns it with a short nod.
“Where are Enzo and Nix?” Sly asks Sully, his hand settled on my thigh. He hasn’t stopped touching me, and I sincerely hope he never does.
“On clean up duty,” Sully replies curtly, his eyes glued to Cecilia as she situates herself on the other side of me, causing me to press into Sly’s side.
She’s none the wiser, fixing her dress as she gets comfortable against the small leather bench seat that’s meant for two.
“Where are we going?” I ask to no one in particular.
Sully scoffs, smirking as he runs a hand through his hair. My eyes catch on the light shining off the faceplate of his watch while he unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves and rolls them up to his elbows. “The tarmac. Your plane leaves in thirty.”
Shock courses through me as I turn to Sly.
A boyish grin pulls at his lips, and he pulls my hand into his. “We were just married, amore mio. We’re off to our honeymoon.”
I look at Raina, then Sully, and finally at Cecilia. All three of them smiling and nodding their heads.
My mind reels, still trying to catch up. “But I have nothing with me. My suitcase?—”
“Will arrive shortly after you do. I’ll make sure of it,” Cecilia says matter-of-factly.
Pulling my hand to his mouth, Sly kisses my knuckles, brushing his soft lips against them before leaning over to whisper in my ear. His warm breath on my skin sends a shiver through me, and naturally I lean toward him.
Brushing the hair from my face, he skates his tongue along the velvety edge of my ear, his voice sending a current of arousal straight to my core. “Don’t worry, piccola ladra. Where we’re going, you won’t need clothes.”