53. Serafina
CHAPTER 53
Serafina
S leep has become a luxury that evades me night after night. Most nights, I alternate between lying wide awake in my bed and sitting on my velvet couch, racking my brain over what Lucas wants from me. I gaze up at the twinkling stars, pleading for answers that never come.
In the few moments I have to myself, I’ve tried reaching out to him, but every text, call, and email goes unanswered. I've even turned to Nora for help, but she insists she is in the dark as well. My brothers are equally tight-lipped on the matter.
As morning arrives for the last time in this house, I stand in front of the mirror, my reflection mocking me. The white dress clings to my curves, suffocating me like a too-tight hug. I try to calm my nerves by taking deep breaths as I adjust the lace veil, but my fingers still tremble. Anger bubbles up inside me, swirling with confusion and that damned flicker of excitement I can't seem to extinguish. Today is the day I must marry the man I thought I knew but who turned out to be someone else entirely. A man I both hate and ache for every damn day.
"You look beautiful, Miss Serafina," our house manager, Linda, coos, her voice a distant hum. With no time to plan for a proper wedding party, Linda has graciously stepped in as my last-minute bridesmaid for the ceremony.
"Grazie," I mumble, not really feeling it. My heart pounds against my ribcage, each beat echoing the war within. Despite my outward anger, a small part of me wonders if this dress, with its lace-trimmed strapless sweetheart neckline and sarong-style crepe sheath skirt, is the one I would have chosen had he kept his promise and joined me in Mexico to begin our life together. My heart beats wildly in my chest, torn between feelings of hatred towards the same man I still long for verses what could have been.
I smooth out a wrinkle on my dress, feeling a flutter in my stomach and a skip in my heart as I imagine what it would have been like to have a true marriage, built on love, trust, and respect, with Lucas. But I quickly push those thoughts away.
I can't afford to feel that way anymore. Today, I must go through with this arranged marriage to appease my parents. Today, I chose to trust that my family has my best interest at heart. But tomorrow? Tomorrow I will find a way out of this mafia life even if it kills me.
"Just one more touch," the makeup artist says, brushing a final sweep of blush across my cheeks. I nod absentmindedly, my mind elsewhere.
"Miss Mancini, there's a delivery for you," a deep, raspy voice interrupts, pulling me back to reality. I turn to see a young man holding a large pot with lush multi-lobed green leaves splashed with cream, light green, and white, standing tall and proud as if to show off their beauty. A variegated philodendron Florida beauty. Another one of my wish list plants.
"Who sent this?" As I approach the young man, my frown deepens. The vibrant green plant rests in his outstretched hand, but no card or note is attached to it. I scan his face for any hints of recognition, but he simply shrugs and offers the plant to me again.
"Just leave it there," I dismiss the delivery man with a wave of my hand, and he gently sets the potted plant down before exiting the room. The makeup artist also promptly leaves; I am left alone with the mysterious gift, staring at it in confusion. I can't help but remember the monstera that mysteriously arrived at my office months ago. Could this be from the same person? My mind races with questions and suspicions, causing me to glance over my shoulder nervously. Should I be worried?
"Serafina, we need to go soon." The soft tapping of the house manager on my door breaks through the stillness, her voice tinged with urgency.
"Almost ready," I reply, but my eyes remain glued to the plant. It's beautiful, almost serene—a stark contrast to the chaos inside me.
"Va bene," I say, tearing myself away from the mystery gift and straightening my shoulders. One last glance in the mirror—mascara thickening my lashes, lips painted a soft rose. Perfect bride. Perfect lie. Time to play my part. Time to face Lucas. The anger simmers beneath my skin, but underneath, hidden away still, is that stubborn spark of love that refuses to die. I hate it. I hate myself for it.
"Let's go," I whisper as I begin to exit the room. My heart heavy, steps light. One foot in front of the other. Ready or not, here I come.
My father stands outside the door, his presence a calming force amidst the chaos. "Pronta, Tesoro?" Dad's voice quivers as he calls me his treasure and asks if I'm ready, cracking through the tension in the hallway. I glance at him, the weight of his sorrow etched deeply into his face. He looks older today, more fragile than I've ever seen him.
"Sí, Papà, let's get this over with," I murmur, threading my arm through his, and we make our way towards the ceremony in our estate gardens. My heart pounds against my ribcage, each beat a reminder of what awaits me at the end of the aisle: Lucas, the man I love, hate, need, and fear, all wrapped into one complicated package.
"è tutto per il meglio," he assures me that it's all for the best, but even as he speaks, his eyes betray him. They're filled with a pain that mirrors my own. He doesn't have answers, just like me.
The large wooden doors of our stately home creak open, revealing a stunning white tent set up for the wedding outside. Gasps can be heard from the guests gathered inside the tent, and I feel my breath hitch in my throat. The room is overflowing with people, most of whom I choose to ignore for now. I have no doubt that they are all business partners and associates; I don't expect to see a single familiar face among them. All eyes are focused on me, waiting for my entrance and silently judging me. The soft glow of candlelight illuminates the aisles, creating a warm atmosphere that contrasts with the heaviness in my heart.
"Showtime," I whisper to myself, forcing a smile that doesn't reach my eyes. The heels of my powder blue Jimmy Choo pumps, meticulously adorned with sparkling Swarovski crystals, click against the wooden floor. Each step feels heavier than the last, but I push through, determined to give my parents the act of their lives.
"Ti amo, figlia mia," Dad whispers, voice barely audible. I squeeze his hand, a silent reassurance that I understand. This isn't what either of us wanted, but here we are.
"Ti amo anch'io," I softly tell him that I love him too, my voice steady even as my world crumbles around me.
Then, suddenly, we're at the altar. Dad releases my arm, stepping back with a look that shatters my heart. I turn to face Lucas—my Lucas. His grey eyes lock onto mine, swirling with a storm of emotions I haven't seen in him in so long. There's no turning back now.
"Serafina," he whispers, so low only I can hear. My name on his lips sends a shiver down my spine. Anger, love, confusion—it all crashes over me in waves. "I promise it'll all make sense soon. Just trust me."
My thoughts swirl, fighting for attention and longing to be spoken out loud. But there is no time for that now. Instead, I turn to the officiant as his monotonous voice drones on. I focus on regulating my breathing, willing my body to take in deep, calming breaths. It's a task that usually comes naturally, but now it requires concentrated effort.
The scent of freshly cut grass drifts through the air, mingling with the delicate fragrance of roses from the surrounding gardens. My mind races, trying to keep up with the chaotic blend of emotions and sensations. But I push it all aside and fix my gaze on the officiant, determined to ignore the chaos within me.
"Do you take this woman…" the question hangs in the air, almost mocking in its simplicity.
"I do," Lucas says, his voice steady, resolute.
"Do you take this man…"
"Yes," I manage, though it feels like a betrayal to every part of me that's screaming to run.
"By the power vested in me… you may now kiss the bride."
Lucas steps closer, his hands gentle as they cradle my face. Our first kiss as husband and wife. His lips meet mine, and it's like coming home. That familiar pull, the electricity sparking between us, ignites something profound within me. I try to suppress it, to remain detached, but it's useless. My eyes betray me, showing him everything I'm trying to hide.
"Te amo," he breathes against my lips, his eyes mirroring the same desperate love I feel.
"Why, Lucas?" my voice is barely a whisper, drowned out by the applause and cheers around us. But he hears me, his eyes darkening with unspoken secrets.
"Later." He promises, a vow hidden beneath layers of complexity.
We turn to walk back down the aisle, hand in hand, bound together yet more divided than ever. And in that moment, the questions multiply. What are we doing? Why are we here? And who sent that damn plant?
Lucas' grip on my hand tightens as we begin to walk down the aisle, the applause echoing around us like a distant storm. My heart's a drum in my chest, pounding out a rhythm of confusion and longing. I glance up at him, those grey eyes giving away too much, just like mine.
"Serafina," he whispers, squeezing my hand. It's meant to be reassuring, but it only tightens the knot in my stomach.
"Hmm?" I manage to say, my voice barely audible over the cacophony of claps and cheers.
But then I see her. Paz. Sitting there in the second row, her gaze locked onto mine. Her presence hits me like a punch to the gut. What is she doing here? My steps falter, but Lucas' grip steadies me.
"What the actual fuck?" I mutter under my breath, my eyes narrowing. Beside her sits a man I've never seen before. Tall with sharp features and an air of authority that makes my skin prickle. He's not from our world, not from the Mancini or Enriquez circles.
"Keep walking," Lucas murmurs, his voice low, almost a growl. "We'll deal with this later."
"Later" seems to be the word of the day. Later, we'll talk, and later, we'll figure it out. But right now, it's all a mess. A beautiful, chaotic mess wrapped in wedding vows and stolen glances.
"Do you know them?" I ask, my curiosity clawing at the surface despite everything else.
"Not here," Lucas replies, his jaw tight, his eyes flashing a warning. "Just smile, Principessa." He adds, his tone softening just a fraction.
I plaster on a smile, though it feels more like a grimace. Every step feels like walking on shards of glass, each one driving deeper into the wounds I thought had healed. My mind races, trying to piece together why Paz would be here, who the mysterious man is, and what it all means.
As we reach the end of the aisle, I turn around to take one final look at Paz. She gives me a slight nod, almost imperceptible but enough to send another wave of questions crashing through me.