4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Mariella
“ Y our daughter’s suitcases were transferred to Signor De Marco’s town car. She’ll be taken to the airport in half an hour,” Fausto, my father’s right-hand man, tells mamma in his usual cold, stern voice. “Time to say goodbye. Your car is waiting out front.”
I never liked that man. None of us do. Mamma nods, and he turns to leave, throwing me a withering glance over his shoulder.
The door closes behind him, leaving us in the small room at the back of the church.
Even an hour after the debacle, the air remains thick with tension.
Thank the heavens Father is no longer here.
I’ve never seen him so enraged. If not for the Don, he would have wrung my neck for humiliating him in front of the entire la famiglia .
“You should be happy. You don’t have to marry Conti now,” Mia says cheerfully.
Of the five of us, she’s always been the boldest, facing challenges head-on. But even she wouldn’t dare disobey our father. After Isa and me, she’ll be next to be married off.
Mamma shoots me a worried glance. “The Contis will never accept you now. And your father will have a hell of a time securing another match for you. It’ll make finding husbands for your sisters harder too. He’ll be unbearable.”
She rubs her forehead, the furrows deepening, if that’s even possible.
I hadn’t thought about any of that. While I’m relieved my marriage prospects have taken a nosedive, the fallout from my father’s wrath wasn’t on my mind.
This is going to be ugly. I just know it.
I feel awful having dragged my sisters and mamma into this mess.
“I don’t ever want to get married,” Ariana, the youngest of my sisters, says, chewing on an apple. She’s only fourteen and dreams of becoming a vet or a zookeeper.
“Hush now,” Mamma admonishes.
“It’s not like you’ll have a choice,” Sienna, who’s sixteen and already disillusioned about the life of women in the Mafia, replies at the same time.
“I’m sorry, mamma ,” I say, my stomach twisting with remorse. “I never wanted to make your life harder.”
Knowing Father, he’ll blame her for what happened today because she never gave him a son. As if that was her fault.
She shakes her head, forcing a smile. “Getting sick was beyond your control, Mari. What’s done is done. We’ll deal with it.”
Her tone isn’t as convincing as she would like her words to be.
I hang my head. She’s scared, because of me. She’s the one who’ll take the brunt of Father’s anger.
“Girls, we need to go. Say goodbye to your sister.” She claps her hands, her telltale sign for us to get into gear.
She steps closer and holds me by the shoulders, kissing my cheek.
“The dust will settle on this. Give it a few weeks and people will forget. Having you in Rome will help. Keep your head down.”
Then she looks at me, and I follow her gaze. Shoot, I’m still wearing my wedding dress. In all the chaos, it slipped everyone’s mind.
“Isa, help your sister get changed quickly, and then meet us at the car. Come on, girls.”
She squeezes my shoulders again and steps to the door, waiting for each of my younger sisters to give me a hug.
“Be good,” she reminds me again before leaving, Mia, Sienna and Ari in tow.
Isa pushes from the wall in the corner where she’s been tapping her foot nervously. She’s been quiet the entire time, clutching at the necklace Luca gave her before he left. She walks over to the window where I’m standing and gives me a tight hug.
“Mari, I’m scared for you,” she whispers, pulling me closer. “I’ve never seen Father so furious. He won’t let this slide.”
Rubbing my throat when she lets go of me, I swallow hard.
“I know. I’m scared for me too,” I whisper back. “If Signor De Marco hadn’t stepped in, I’d be dead now.”
The truth of that statement hits me like a ton of bricks.
“If not by our father’s hand, then by Renaldo’s. I humiliated him in front of everyone important.”
My stomach lurches all over again. If I had eaten anything since entering this room, we’d have a repeat of what happened earlier.
“He declared the wedding was off right after you fainted. With any luck, Father won’t be able to smooth things over.”
“I don’t know, Isa. Father could convince Eskimos to buy ice. There’s a reason he’s in line to be the next consigliere.”
She sighs. “He can be so charming. Too bad we never see that side of him.”
Isa takes a step back and begins rolling up the plum fabric of her dress.
“What are you doing?” I ask her, watching her with a raised brow.
She pulls something from her garter and holds it out to me.
“Giving you this before I forget.”
This is a small, unassuming-looking cell phone.
“So we can stay in touch,” she tells me with a proud smile.
“You’ve got one too?” I ask. Why I’m not sure because the answer is obvious. I’m just a little stunned.
She nods her head. “Of course.” Pointing at the phone in my hand, she adds, “I’ve programmed my number into it already.”
I look down at her still exposed leg, and she shrugs her shoulders.
“I strapped it to myself so it wouldn’t be found in your luggage. Father had it inspected before it was loaded this morning.”
Of course he had. Antonio Accardi leaves nothing to chance. God forbid, anything inappropriate, like a dildo—not that I own one—comes from his house. Anything that might make him look bad is a risk he won’t take.
And I suspect my luggage would have suffered the same fate once it reached the Conti estate. Control-freaks, the lot of them.
“How did you manage to get them? It’s not like we can leave the house.”
“Luca taught me a thing or two while we were together.” She says the last part wistfully, a sad smile on her face.
I hug her tight. Even five years after Luca disappeared, she misses him. He was meant to be her happily ever after.
“Father nearly caught me with the bag. Luckily, he was on the phone and couldn’t ask questions,” she adds, resting her chin on my shoulder.
A knock on the door makes us both jump apart. I hide the phone behind my back as Isa grabs my other hand as we turn.
Fausto enters, carrying a duffel bag. He drops it by the door.
“Your mother sent this for you to get changed into. Hurry!”
He studies us for a moment, his gaze zeroing in on our clasped hands before bouncing between Isa and me.
Oh god. He knows, doesn’t he?
My heart pounds, heat rushing through my body.
Fausto’s eyes narrow, and I stop breathing, my grip tightening around the phone.
He opens his mouth, his gaze now locked on me. I press the phone closer to my back, praying it won’t slip and clatter to the floor.
Just when I brace for one of his scathing lectures, he shuts his mouth, but his piercing stare doesn’t waver.
Sweat beads on my forehead, but I don’t dare wipe it. I have no free hand anyway.
The seconds drag on until, finally, Fausto shifts his focus to my sister.
“Five minutes, Isabella,” he says. Then, without another word, he turns and walks away.
When he’s gone, Isa and I let out the breath we were holding.
I clutch the phone to my chest, feeling my heart hammering wildly beneath my fingers.
“Phew. That was close,” I say, still breathless.
“I’d hate to have made it this far without them finding the phone, only for my plan to fall apart at the last minute. Make sure you hide it well,” Isa pleads.
“I promise. This is our only way to stay in touch. I won’t risk it being found.” I hug her again. “Thank you, Isa. I’m so glad we still can talk.”
“Me too, sis. But only at night, when the house is asleep.”
Isa walks over to the bag, unzips it, and peeks inside.
“Looks like mamma picked something unassuming and comfortable. I’m glad she doesn’t make you dress up.”
“That’s because she doesn’t want me to draw any attention. Ah well, blending into the background is much more my style anyway.”
“Don’t undersell yourself, Mari. You are beautiful. And who knows what will happen in Rome now that you’ll be living in Mateo De Marco’s house. He might finally notice you.”
I laugh at that.
“Oh Isa. I love your optimism. I’ll be in the servants’ quarters for sure and not see him at all.
“Besides, I’d only turn beet-red and stutter if he actually talked to me. I’ve had enough embarrassment to last me a lifetime. I don’t need more.”
Isa motions for me to turn around and finds the hidden zipper of my wedding dress. She pulls it down until the back falls open.
Trying to lighten the still heavy mood, she teases, “What a way to get out of this marriage though, Mari! And the dramatic wait until the very last second.”
My shoulders tense, making it hard to shrug off the dress.
“Better late than never,” I mutter, the heaviness inside me not budging.
The dress, which I had no say in choosing, drops to the floor, pooling into a pile of creamy white silk.
“I was so desperate for a way out that I actually planned to fake fainting,” I confess quietly as I step out.
“Did you? After the vomiting?” Isa asks.
“Pretend, you mean?”
I rid myself of the high heels too. That feels so much better! I hadn’t even noticed how much my feet were hurting.
“Yes,” Isa replies, keeping her voice low.
“No, I didn’t pretend. I think I fainted from pure mortification.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “Isa, I vomited on a priest!”
She chuckles again. “I know! This will be talked about for years.”
I groan. “God, I hate being the center of gossip.”
There’s a moment of sobering silence, and all jest fades.
“I made us and the Contis a laughingstock. I tarnished both our reputations. There will be consequences. If Father somehow convinces the Contis to give this union another chance, Renaldo will make me pay for his humiliation for the rest of my life. Maybe it would have been better to let Father kill me.”
“Don’t say that, Mari. For now, let’s focus on the fact that you’re safe.”
Yes, I am safe.
But for how long?